How to Become a Boxer in 8 (Not-So-Easy) Steps

Wednesday, June 19 2013

“Look Ma, No Hands”

Sign up for HaymakersForHope. Receive a free gym membership to Redline Fight Sports.
Quit drinking.
OK, drink occasionally.
Box four or five days a week.
Start sparring. Spar against a guy who apparently fights Mixed Martial Arts (MMA) professionally. Wish that you had known this before MMA Guy beat you up for two minutes straight.
Realize you need to eat better. Glance longingly at each Dunkin’ Donuts you pass. Eat spinach.
Dread going to sparring class on Mondays, partly because MMA Guy might be there, and partly because a new guy could show up and not show restraint. Lament the fact that other MMA guys enjoy trying their hand at boxing. Compared to getting kicked in the face, boxing is a meditative pursuit akin to bird watching or Hacky Sack. “They’re just punches,” says one of them. Make a mental note to never hang out with an MMA guy.
Finally, endure the following phases, culminating in your fight:

4 months before the fight: Boyish enthusiasm 3 months: Confidence 2 months (following your 2-round sparring match against your future opponent): Reassessment 1 month: Self-assessment. Analyze your strengths and weaknesses and decide what style of fighter to be. 2 weeks: Impatience. 1 week: The most nervous you’ve ever felt. 3 days: Relieved that you got your final sparring session out of the way. Sore from an MMA guy’s left hooks to your kidney. 2 days: Confident. Boxers are supposed to be confident, right? Day before: Pleasantly surprised. At how relaxed you are. You were much more nervous a week ago. You realize that the hard part is over. The training, the sacrifices, the fundraising – that was the hard part. The fight itself is your reward. All you have to do now is go out there and have fun. MMA Guy wasn’t the only one who gave you that advice. Have fun. Don’t think. Be confident. Trust your training. And don’t forget to breathe. Always breathe. Fight Night: Fun. Confidence. Fun. Confidence. Keep those butterflies to a minimum. Show up at 4:30pm to the House of Blues and wait in line to weigh in with the other 25 Haymakers fighters. Hop onto the scale and flex (fun, confidence). “Don’t do that,” barks the USA Boxing official. “Stand still.” Recall that you are not Floyd Mayweather. Finish weighing in. Eat dinner. The next few hours will be some of the most memorable of your life. Enjoy all of it. The rival trainers milling about whispering who’s training who. The rising murmur of the crowd as the first fight draws near. Warming up backstage on a linoleum floor. Entering the ring to a 30-second song clip of your choosing (I made a clutch decision to switch from “Harlem Shake” to “Remix to Ignition”). Finally, try to give the crowd a good show, and don’t embarrass yourself in front of your friends, family, and 1500 strangers. But seriously, regardless of the outcome of your fight, always tell people about the time you put your ass on the line for the fight against cancer. A cure it is not. An effective way to spread awareness and raise funds for cancer research? I think so. And it doesn’t hurt that when people ask me now why my wristband says Haymakers For Hope, I tell them about those four months when I was a guy who boxes. Boxer Guy.