The Spar
Mary waved Aaron over with her hand, almost as if she had a secret to tell him. My first thought was that she was going to throw him in with the barefoot guy who came in wearing a shirt that was mimicked after the famous Alberto Korda photo of Che Guevara but instead had Cornelius from Planet of the Apes wearing the beret.
“Do you wanna go in the ring and work your offense against Andrew?” she asked him.
Aaron smiled and looked at me. Before he could even say anything in response I opened up my mouth.
“Of course he wants to,” I said and followed with a bunch of rambling which probably made me look a tad insane.
Aaron mentioned that he didn’t have his mouthpiece.
“I’m not gonna hit you back,” I reminded him. This was a regular exercise. One person would go in and work defence by blocking punches and moving away while the other would follow and strike when opportunity arose. Aaron had done this before, working both offence and defence with a thin Asian named Alvin. However, during that practice I noticed that both Alvin and Aaron would be aiming for each other’s gloves instead of the face. Aaron wouldn’t repeat that this time. He would aim for my face and I had to take the risk that he would go full force. And if he did, I would have to restrain myself from hitting back, since he wouldn’t be wearing the headgear.
While we waited for our time in the ring, Aaron got on the large red 20oz gloves while I had to settle for black bag gloves. While the barefooted guy’s barefooted girlfriend went wild on Jodie in the ring (Where she got all that energy I have no idea), Aaron and I were chatting. It was something we regularly did. We wouldn’t have detailed conversations, just shoot quiet jibes off to one another.
"I’m gonna bust you up."
"I’m gonna bust your lip"- a line which originated when Aaron misread the lines on a Mr. T shirt that I owned.
We would jokingly call each other names of boxers from yesteryear.
"Ready to rumble, Sugar Ray?"
"Ready to go fall, Smokin’ Joe?"
I felt it helped ease any tension that might be in the air. Before a spar I always get small butterflies in my stomach. But the joking around and laughter made me feel at ease. Besides, this was Aaron, he probably wanted to punch me, but he wasn’t out to give me a facial fracture.
“That headgear looks too small,” he said.
I pulled it off.
“Shut up. I have a large head.”
In truth, the headgear I had on didn’t feel right. Plus it was still sweaty from whoever used it before me. I quickly searched and found for one that was comfortable and didn’t feel like it came out of a swimming pool. Once that was on, Jodie and the barefoot girl had finished their rounds and I hopped into the ring, bouncing on my feet while Aaron watched me. Mary instructed me move around the ring and for Aaron to cut me off.
The bell rang and so it began. While normally I would extend my arm as a common courtesy, I didn’t do it this time. Instead, I was on the balls of my feet, waiting to see what kind of move Aaron would make. He quickly moved in and instantly reminded me that he was a southpaw. His jab got me good in the face and I danced away.
Catch me if you can!
However that’s what he did. I would dance away and within a few seconds of standing still Aaron would be within range, firing at me. After moving away again he’d have me at the ropes or in the corner and after landing some good shots I’d be able to escape. When he had me in a corner, Mary would shout for me to get out and dance away. I tried to clinch Aaron and throw him against the ropes but as I moved forward he probably had an idea of what I was trying to do and got me good on the chin. I felt one of my legs go and I had to balance myself with the ropes. Had Aaron capitalized on that sudden weakness he would have had me down on the canvas. But he restrained himself and I danced out of the corner. This was different from any other sparring experience I had before. While that one kid I fought 10 months ago was also a southpaw, in that situation I was fighting back and using the long reach of my arm to keep him away. Also during that fight I was pretty flat-footed and not playing the matador to his bull.
With Aaron though, the bull kept coming forward. And the bull was landing better and harder shots than that kid ever did. I could feel my nose getting flattened when his glove came into contact with it. I was getting mad. He was landing jabs and power shots while all I could do was keep my hands up like Ali did in Zaire against Foreman. I couldn’t clinch and I couldn’t hit back. That was what made me really mad.
At last the bell rang and we could stop for one minute. I got water from Mary while she told me that Aaron was getting mad because of my dancing.
“Aaron wants you to stand still so he can land those shots,” she informed me as she gave Aaron water.
“He’s getting mad?” I asked. “He keeps hitting me and I have to take it. Trust me, I’m more mad then he is.”
Mary laughed, understanding my frustration.
As we stood in opposite corners my mind went into working a strategy. Aaron knew me well and wouldn’t fall for any psychological talk I could throw out there. But maybe if I did something in action he would be a bit more cautious. I would charge him, make it look like I forgot I wasn’t supposed to fight back.
The moment I heard the bell go I dashed. For a split second I wondered what would happen if Aaron was able to land one good shot on my chin and floor me?
“Whoa,” Jodie exclaimed as I dashed towards Aaron.
I stopped myself when I knew that I was within range of Aaron’s jab. He seemed unfazed by my actions. So much for psychological warfare.
Aaron kept moving forward and blocking my movement. Whenever I was able to get myself away from him it would only be a few seconds before I was right where he wanted me. I couldn’t clinch and I could block. Every time I moved to my left to try and get away he’d be there with more jabs. Where the hell was he getting this energy from anyway? He admitted to me earlier when we were on the bags that he felt like he was going to puke yet here he was landing good hard shots. Even his movement was surprising me. During shadowboxing he seemed stiff yet in the ring he was loose, cutting off the ring and knocking my head back so hard that I could feel the muscles in my neck stretch.
I knew that there had to be more to my defence than dancing, especially against southpaws. I put up my hands almost like an X. An awkward strategy but I had to think of something quickly. If I could stop his jabs with my right hand and block power shots with my left, I might be able to get hit less.
Aaron fired a jab that landed between my hands and my nose, flattening it again. Later in the round he would land a punch that would twist my neck so that I could see the park outside of the gym.
My dancing was still going strong. The only way for him to hit me was for him to catch me. No matter how strong he was going in these two rounds, he would have to slow down.
But he didn’t. He kept coming forward landing shots on my face and arms whenever I covered up. Another thing I noticed afterwards was that he didn’t throw any body shots when I was covering up. Had he thrown a hook to the body that might have changed everything dramatically.
Just when it seemed it couldn’t end here the final bell rang. I raised my gloved hand for Aaron to tap but instead he hugged me and I did the same.
“Good job, Andrew,” he said with laboured breath. I could tell that he was smiling but I could also hear how exhausted he was.
“Good job, Aaron,” I congratulated in return. I felt even more drained than he sounded. Aaron climbed out of the ring while I sat on the ground and lay on my back.
Mary once again commented on how I was making Aaron mad with my constant movement.
“Yeah, but imagine being hit so many times and not being able to hit back. Trust me, I was getting madder than he was.”
“You’ll get him next time,” she smiled.
After ten seconds on my back, I got up out of the ring and pulled off the gloves and headgear. I got a drink of water and met Aaron on the side of the ring. Both of our shirts were wet with sweat and my forehead was dripping.
“You little bitch,” I told him with a smile, “why the hell didn’t you tell me you could hit so hard?”
He laughed and told me that he didn’t.
Aaron was being modest about his punching power. While Mary had told him he still needed practice regarding his footwork, when it came to punching power Aaron certainly had plenty to go around. I’d never been against the ropes and had my head knocked back the way he did to me. And his punches were a lot quicker than I had expected. He had me constantly moving. Usually when I sparred someone and had to work defence I would do a crappy version of the Ali shuffle to distract them and get a laugh. Aaron had me too worried to do anything that might leave me open. I was really impressed with what he did.
While we watched others spar, I moved a finger in my mouth to make sure all my teeth were firmly in place and to see if my gums were bleeding. My nose was a bit sore but he hadn’t gotten it to bleed so I was fine.
We put off stretching, sit-ups and push-ups.
“I did them before I got here,” lied Aaron.
“Yeah, and I did mine on Tuesday, so I’m good.”
Mary didn’t seem to mind. We did everything else that was asked of us and she could probably tell how drained we were.
In the locker room I had trouble getting my shirt off. Once I did get it off I saw the large patch of sweat at the back. Probably the most I’d ever done in the gym.
On the way out, Aaron and I gave Mary our monthly dues.
“Can I ask you a question?” I asked her.
“Sure,” she said.
We were in the office so I took a seat opposite of her. “I’m taking journalism at the college downtown and I was wondering if I could interview you.” My plan was just to do a short interview with Mary regarding an upcoming bout where she would be a referee instead of a combatant.
She extended her arms towards me. “I’m going to Ecuador to fight in the Pan Am games,” she informed me.
“Yes!” I exclaimed. That would be much better than some story about her refereeing.
“Just email me the questions and I’ll get back to you,” she informed me.
As we walked out towards the car, my nose started to get stuffed up again. It hadn’t bothered me during the spar but now I could only breathe out of one nostril.
On the way home Aaron and I stopped for Gatorade-an electrolyte refill.
“See, isn’t this nice?” I asked as we exited the store. “Twenty minutes ago you were punching me in the face and enjoying it, now we can be friends again.”
On the way home I kept discussing the spar, explaining how Aaron seemed to be more of a slugger than a puncher. I compared him to Marvellous Marvin Hagler, who dominated the middleweight division in the 80’s. Aaron had no idea who I was talking about. I kept telling him what a good job he did but reminded him that he wouldn’t have been as successful had I been allowed to hit back.
The next day I felt even more drained. It was about nine o’clock by the time I dragged myself out of bed.