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Boxing

I few years ago I found myself fortunate enough to receive a free ticket to a boxing match, where adults to very small children were competing. Master Barry of the Enchanted Mountain Martial Arts Academy was kind enough to include me in the outing. This was the first ever boxing tournament I had been to in my life, and I realized several things while watching these young lads smash each others’ faces in.

The little kids were terrifying. I wouldn’t want to box them and I’m twice their size. They have way too much energy — I got winded just watching the little tykes. Their arms kept a swingin’ away and I was worried a mother or two would be bringing her child home in a body cast. Fortunately, this did not happen.

Having concluded I must ban any children of mine from boxing, I conversely decided boxing is the sport for me. I found the undeniable best reason to participate. I would be treated like royalty.

After trying to smash someone else in the face and body for a minute or two, I would waltz over to my “throne,” which minutes before had not been there. Without me even needing to think about it, someone would place a stool in the corner for me. I would not even have to remember how to breathe or blink, my team would do that for me. And sure, it’s not grapes that are being placed in my mouth, but I’ll take a squirt of water. I literally won’t have to lift a finger … which I wouldn’t be able to do anyway because I’ll have on giant massive gloves weighing down my arms.

People will give me pep talks every one to two minutes. Who doesn’t like a boost of positive thinking? I mean, that’s awesome! While all this is going on, my public will be shouting my name and cheering me on. After my victory, my lackeys will even take care of de-gloving me. It’s going to be amazing.

This, however, is where the downside of the job comes in. As you can imagine, getting smashed in the face multiple times presents a few risks to your health. As was explained to me, two of the most concerning are a detached retina or a concussion. According to the medics, all one needs to do in order to rule these out after the day’s match is to yank your nose to and fro several times.

The downfall to this, as I see it, is that it wouldn’t actually provide a definitive diagnosis of retinas floating about or concussion. It also seems that if a nose had in fact been broken in the process of boxing, the tugging would probably not feel so great. I know I would have the urge to simultaneously grab the medic’s nose and start pulling it every which way, maybe to deduce he/she didn’t have brain damage or food poisoning, or something of that nature.

Let’s not dwell on the bad though. Let’s talk about something else that is unbelievably fabulous about a boxing tournament. The ropes.

Those ropes were the source of most of my enjoyment that day. Daydreams filled my head, as I envisioned myself sprinting back and forth inside a ring to see how hard I could bounce off the ropes, transforming myself into some kind of human projectile. I thought of about 20 different “moves” I could do with the assistance of those ropes. I’m thinking maybe I’ll start my own Cirque du Soleil deal using a boxing match ring instead of … you know … all that other stuff. Sprinting and bouncing and jumping … it’s going to be … almost certainly only entertaining to me.

Some of the contestants seemed to dread the ropes. They approached the ring as if this was the first time they’d ever seen such a contraption. I’m not sure they had ever encountered a fence. You could see the decision making going on by their facial expressions.

Some boxers almost got stuck as they hunkered too low. One rolled into the ring as if he was on fire and desperate to put it out. It was amazing acrobatic stuff with those ropes … something I might be putting in that Cirque du Soleil spin-off I’m working out in my head. You know you want to see it.

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