Science is getting it's well deserved props lately, so I decided six months ago to take up the sweetest of all Sciences: Boxing. I've always wanted to learn how to throw a punch and build up my self confidence. Ya know, just in case someone kicks sand in my 68 year old face. Anyway, our gym had a class that I jumped into with the hopes and dreams of a ten year old. Olympic gold is my motivator.
The classes lasted six weeks, culminating with a three round match against a fellow student. After weeks of pounding the heavy bag with lightning left jabs, punishing right crosses, uppercuts from both dazzling hands and my power punch, a crunching right hook, I was ready for my first match. And what a fight it was. My footwork was prodding and forceful. My body slipped punches with quick weaves and unpredicted dodges. My hands were fast and piston like. Needless to say I won handily and at the end when my hand was held high, I was gracious in victory, which will be my trademark. I put my arm around my dejected opponent, the tallest twelve year old in the class, and then I whispered in her ear, "You've got game kid!"
I introduce to you extra middle weight, Gentleman Bobby Cranelegs (1-0)!
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