October 6, 2006


Fighting Penguins

This was supposed to be posted this morning - I'd make a lousy journalist if I missed deadines like I miss bloglines. My oldest kid had been grounded off the computer, which meant as soon as I left the house last night, he hopped on.

And while I was with writer-fighters, he was wreaking havoc with my computer, apparently armed only with MSN. Webgod Jeff has been here for hours trying to unravel the mystery that is this damned machine.

To the fight: Okay, this was my first up close boxing match. I've only ever flicked past it on TV ('turn it! turn it now!'). As 350 people crammed around the ring, it crossed my mind that it is a rather odd thing that unites people for the purpose of watching someone get the crap kicked out of him.

The publicists from Penguin went first as the undercard. I didn't recognize Stephen Myers at first without his glasses. Then it dawned on me that perhaps he didn't know where he was. The other guy didn't care too much about such details. With their headgear, mouthguards and gloves on, everything was pretty much covered, except their noses. So guess where most of the punching occurred.

Two minute rounds sound short. I now know from experience that even one minute seems like an eternity, and makes you sweat in a very unladylike manner. These boys weren't concerned with the ladylike part, but they were fighting for real. I was wincing for real.

The main card took the ring to huge cheers, an hour and about 4 beers later. I'd seen Craig Davidson downstairs warming up, and was impressed with the changes in even the couple of weeks since I fought him. I'm sure he was cherishing that match by this point.

His opponent, Michael Knox climbed into the ring first. I gulped. The lad looked like a serious fighter. He's been advertising that he's a poet, but I think that was just to fake people out. This guy doesn't look like a poet, unless it's a mad- as- hell poet.

And again, with the punching in the nose. I'd bought a couple of Craig's books for my trainers, and asked him to sign them ahead of the fight. I didn't want blood on them.
You laugh. Craig had a bunch of blood going on by the second round.

These were sanctioned matches, with a referee and everything. These guys took an incredible pounding in the name of their art. I'm thinking they should cut up the canvas floor of the ring and sell the bloodstains as art too. Craig as multi-media.

I'm still boxing, but I'm not heading into a ring anytime soon. That whole nose-punching thing made me look away. And in boxing, if you look away, the poet wins.

1 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Knox is a poet. I assure you.
Okay, he's mean and he's built, but his first book just came out in the spring. The reason you didn't hear about it is because he's an, um, poet.

January 08, 2007 2:13 PM  

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