A Boxer's Courage
There was no feeling quite like it, that ring, that moment. He stared his opponent in the eyes before the bell rang. His coach was talking to him. His knees shook in excitement and fear. He wondered what he’d gotten himself into as he tried to relax his body.
This was boxing. This was the thing he loved the most.
He only wished he was good at it.
The fourth round had just started. His legs could barely move, detached from his body due to the amount of blows he’d taken. With his back against the rope, he struggled to find an opening, anything at all. Maybe he could get lucky, land that one punch and knock out his opponent through sheer chance. But he knew better.
He wasn’t born with the body of a boxer. His punches held no power, his feet held no speed, and his body could take little pain. All that he had was his mind, which was beyond useless at that point. He had already accepted defeat.
Eventually, the final punch found its way past his guard, finding the chin.
The fight was over. All that hard work he’d put in, completely wasted as he fell down on the canvas. The referee rushed in between the fighters. He began counting.
One… Two… Three… Four…
He did his best to get back up but he knew there was no point.
It was clear to everyone the fight was already over. His knees continued to shake despite him being on the ground. That’s when his coach threw in the towel, surrendering from the fight. He didn’t need to see his fighter get punished any further. Their opponent simply outclassed them.
He remembered how bright the lights were in the ring; he could barely even see the small crowd that had gathered to watch him. But the thing he remembered most was seeing the light fade. The noises, cheering, all phased out.
His name was Jack Thorgan. A lightweight boxer with a record of four wins and two losses. Though clever on his feet and excellent at fighting his opponent from long range, he had crumbled under the pressure of his opponent tonight. This was a familiar script. Though he was a diligent man who had never feared hard work, his body was not ideal for boxing. His punches had never been enough for a knockout and he spent most of his fights running. To him, his style was pathetic.
Eventually, Jack woke up. His coach helped him walk to their dressing room, where he changed out of his shorts and undid his boxing tape. He remembered vividly the quiet of the room.
“Go home and rest, kid. You have a long day tomorrow,” his coach told him.
“I’m sorry,” Jack said.
“It happens. The better man won today.”
Jack walked back home to his apartment, freezing as he ushered himself through the pouring rain. Australia had never been kind to anyone during its winter. He thought back to what his coach had said. That “the better man” won. What makes a better man?
He managed to take the train back home and soon found himself at the door to his apartment. As he fumbled through his pockets to search for a key, he could no longer take it. Jack rested his head on the door, letting out a sigh. It wasn’t a feeling of sadness that he felt; it was disappointment. Jack had worked so hard for that match—he gave it his all. Only to lose without even putting up a fight. Tears began building but he told himself there was no reason to cry. Every great fighter lost: Ali, Leonard, Tyson, and so many more.
But they all had talent and confidence. It wasn’t a privilege that Jack could yet afford. He opened the door and entered his apartment. He smiled seeing that it wasn’t a complete mess. He took off his jacket and sat on his chair, turning on the TV. Jack considered himself fortunate to have made it back in time. Tonight, his favourite fighter was going to defend his world title.
Alejandro Lopez, the undefeated Mexican champion that had conquered four weight classes, starting from super bantamweight to where he was now. Lopez had already claimed three belts within the lightweight division—the WBA, WBO and the IBF—with his astonishing record of seventy-three wins and no losses. Three of the most prestigious boxing titles all held by one man.
Jack looked up to him, the perfect boxer. He managed to catch the last minute of round one. Lopez expertly moved in and out of his opponent’s range. Catching his opponent off-guard, finding every opening whilst punishing any mistake with a counter. His boxing was beautiful, elegant, graceful even. Everything about it screamed greatness. His punches, footwork, angling, hand speed, distance management. It was enough to make a boxing nerd like Jack jump out of his seat and forget everything else in his life; pulling him into the fight, as if he was there. Appreciating every single moment and knowing it could be the last, since all they needed was one good punch to finish the fight.
Suddenly, Jack was pulled back into reality when his doorbell rang. He isn’t expecting anybody. No take-outs tonight either with his current financial state. His coach perhaps, or his friend Lynn?
He went to open the door slowly, peeping his head through the gap between the door and the door frame to see who it was.
“Hey. How can I help you?”
“Hi, is this Jenny Thorgan’s house?” a lady asked.
“I’m sorry, my mother passed a while ago,” Jack replied. “Do you have any business with her?”
“Yes, I do…” the lady said reluctantly.
Jack could see someone hiding behind the woman. A little girl wearing a purple shirt and black shorts.
“Hi… My name is Emilia. This is Emily. Your mother was listed as her godmother,” the woman explained. “I’ve been taking care of her for a while as her aunt but… I just don’t have the ability to take care of her.”
Jack smiled at the sheer ridiculousness of the statement. What made her think that he was any more suited for this than her?
“What about my father? Connor Thorgan?” Jack asked. “Couldn’t you contact him? He’s not exactly hard to find nowadays.”
“I tried. But it’s been very difficult to reach him.” Emilia explained.
“Classic,” Jack scoffed. He almost laughed. Connor ran from his responsibilities as a father, cutting all contacts with their mother and moving on to a different life, again. You almost couldn’t write it.
“I see. But… I’m sorry, I can’t—”
Jack made eye contact with the girl. A clear sadness in her eyes. He could see her mouth something to him.
“Please…”
His mind was momentarily frozen. What on earth was even happening? There was no way for Jack to wrap his head around everything. He knew that look from Emily. It was a look he once had when he too lost his mother. There was no way Jack could have just let it go.
“I’m sorry, I can’t give you my mother. But I’ll take her in nonetheless, since I’m the only family she has left.”
“Are you sure, sir?” the woman asked.
“I have a way better shot at contacting her father than you do. She can stay here for a while.”
Jack barely had enough money to not go homeless. How the hell was he going to take care of a child? But that was never his intention. He could see that the girl needed help and he knew where to get it. He just had to take care of her for a while.
“Well, all right. Please feel free to contact me if there are any issues. Here’s my contact,” she said, handing Jack her phone number.
She excused herself as Jack struggled to make sense of his situation. But he managed to control his emotions. After all, he had bigger problems now. He looked at Emily.
“Hey. So… Emily, you want to come in?” He extended his hand to the girl in the doorway. “Name’s Jack, by the way. You’ll be staying with me for a bit.”
Emily stared at him blankly, too scared to say a word. Jack helped her get inside and showed her to a seat, right in front of the TV. It was the beginning of round three.
Jack watched carefully, immersing himself back into the fight. He watched Alejandro’s jab closely. A beautiful punch that shot out like lightning.
But he was pulled out again at the sound of stomachs grumbling. Both his and Emily’s.
Usually, Jack would just ignore this. He was no stranger to going hungry for a while, after all. But that wasn’t an option now. He got up and handed Emily the remote.
“I’m going to guess you’re not a big boxing fan. We have Netflix, though. A friend of mine shared the account with me. Just use my profile, or the kid’s one. I don’t think she’ll mind.”
Emily didn’t take the remote. She pulled back, leaning on the chair. It was clear she was unsure of the new surroundings she had been suddenly thrust into, or about the new stranger in her life. Who could blame her? Jack had just came back from a fight. He wasn’t exactly looking his best. His hair was a mess, his clothes were scruffy, and the bruises on his face didn’t help.
Looking at her, Jack wondered what he’d gotten himself into now. But he told himself it would be okay. He just had to hold Emily until he could get a hold of his father, then he’d be free of her and Emily would end up with what would likely be a far better life.
Jack walked over to his fridge, only to find it depressingly empty. Eventually, he decided on calling for some pizza.
Whilst reaching for his phone, Jack saw a message from his friend, Lynn. She was asking him how the fight went. He didn’t want to answer. Jack kept telling himself that it was nothing to be embarrassed about, and repeated the excuse in his mind that every boxer lost. But losing wasn’t what Jack was ashamed of. He decided to not reply to her and ordered the pizza instead. When Jack ended his call, he saw another notification on his phone. A news article: “Alejandro Lopez wins with his 33rd consecutive knockout to complete his 15th title defence.”
Jack sighed. As if losing his own fight wasn’t enough to make it a historically bad day, he had also missed the finish of a fight he’d been anticipating for weeks.
He peeked out of the kitchen, hoping that maybe Emily hadn’t switched the channel and he could get a glimpse of the KO. But by the time he turned the corner, Emily was already on Netflix. Watching a show Jack didn’t know. He sighed again and went to sit next to her. He didn’t want to look through his phone any longer.
Their first night together was quiet, awkward even. Emily would go on to stay up until eleven before falling asleep on the couch. Jack fetched a blanket for her before heading off to bed. He’d had enough of today.
Jack couldn’t believe how ridiculous this all was. Emily was twelve years old, already enrolled in a nearby school. That would mean a significant change to his daily routine. It was one he barely had the time for, but he couldn’t exactly stop her from going. It had been a while since he last drove. Considering his car was only a few more trips from dying, he’d been trying his best to sell it, but due to its condition, that had proven to be rather difficult. It had gotten to the point where Jack would happily sell the car for a few hundred bucks. But even though the school was close, Jack didn’t feel comfortable letting her travel to school alone. Selling the car just wasn’t an option right now.
After dropping her off in the morning, Jack went to his first job: as a security guard at a bar near Town Hall station. He had the morning shift today, which was bound to be boring. The most he’d usually get, even on rough nights were little scuffles here and there. Maybe an angry ex, two drunk idiots, at most two groups of fans getting a little too rowdy. But the morning? Jack had no reason to be there. Sitting in the corner of the room, he thought back to yesterday. His loss.
He couldn’t get over it yet, especially since that loss made his record 4-2. Not the flashiest streak of all time. If he lost another, he risked losing all his momentum forever and going nowhere with his career. After all, most professional boxers nowadays didn’t even have one loss on the world stage, let alone three on the regional scene. He was only twenty years old so he had time to wash off this loss, but it still cut deep. Jack wondered if he could pick an easier fight next time but shook his head. Knowing his coach, he’d get kicked out for even mentioning the idea. Furthermore, Jack wouldn’t have wanted that anyways. The joy of boxing came from competition. To pick on someone weaker than him wasn’t something he would enjoy.
“Jack. Jack!” He heard someone call out his name. “Are you all right? You look a bit out of it.”
He turned and saw Lynn. She was his oldest friend… his only friend, actually. He’d known her ever since they were in school and she had even helped him land this job after referring him to her boss. The smarter friend in the duo, Lynn was still in university and going for a dual major in science.
“Yeah. I’m okay.”
“Are you sure? You don’t look… Is this about your match last night?” she asked.
“No, I’m past it. I’m just thinking about the next one.”
“Ooh, confident now. Was it a win? Finally a knockout on the record?”
“I was knocked out so… yes? Technically.”
“Oh my god. Are you okay?”
“Of course. Not my first time going to sleep, unfortunately.” Jack tried to laugh it off.
“Did you go check with the doctors or anything like that?” she asked him.
“Not yet. I probably won’t, to be honest. You know how annoying the scheduling is. And Henry can help me with that anyways.”
“Still, ease up a little in training, okay?
“I’ll try.”
They were silent for a bit. But considering it was a bar on Monday morning, they weren’t exactly busy.
“Didn’t you have a match you wouldn’t shut up about yesterday? Alejandro… something.”
“Alejandro Lopez. Only the greatest boxer of all time.”
“Yeah, yeah. How did it go?”
Jack laughed. He had no idea how to tell Lynn what happened last night. “Well, I missed it because I had to order some pizza.”
“Pizza? Since when did Jack Thorgan eat fast food?”
“It was for my little sister… well, half-sister.”
“You have a sister?” Lynn almost yelled at Jack. “Why have we never met? You’ve never even mentioned her.”
“Well, I didn’t know I had a sister until… a few hours ago so—”
“Wait, are you serious?”
“I wish I wasn’t.”
Jack went on to tell Lynn everything he knew about Emily. He told Lynn that he would care for her until he could get a hold of their father and then he’d give Emily away. After all, he clearly didn’t have the money to take care of a child. Being a boxer on a losing streak didn’t exactly help his financial prospects.
“Wow. So… that was… all in one day?” Lynn asked.
“Pretty much.”
“So now you have a child?”
“Yep.”
He passed the rest of his shift trying to avoid the subject of Emily. It was a headache that he simply didn’t need right now.
Jack looked at the clock. It was finally time for him to leave. “Well, that was fun,” he said. “I need to go to the gym now. I have a class to teach.”
“Okay… But, well, who’s going to pick Emily up from school?”
“I’ll pick her up when I’m done. She just has to wait near the station.”
“Really? Is that safe? I mean—”
“Yeah, it’s Sydney. She’ll be fine,” Jack said.
“I don’t know if that’s…” Lynn stopped herself. “Okay, well, good luck.”
He had another job, as a part-time trainer at the Anderson Boxing Gym. He would lead beginner and all-level classes every Tuesday and Thursday. The gym was extremely understaffed at the time so it was just him and his coach, Henry Anderson.
When Jack made his way to the gym, he helped a few beginners warm up before making his way to his coach’s office.
Henry Anderson. The only coach Jack has ever had. The classic, hard-ass stereotype of a coach, but also one of the brightest boxing minds Jack had ever known. Everything Jack had learned came from him.
He knocked on Henry’s door.
“Hey, you wanted to meet?” Jack asked.
“How’s your body recovering, kid?”
“I’ll live.”
Henry smiled, then looked out of the window, deflated. “So, you have a half-sister?”
“I’m as surprised about it as you are,” Jack said. “Look, I need another fight. Soon. I have someone else to take care of now until I get a hold of my father. You know how hard that’s going to be.”
“I know, kid. But you just got knocked out yesterday. We need to take our time,” Henry said.
“Yeah, but I feel okay now and I need that fight, Henry.”
His coach turned to look at him and sighed. He knew Jack wasn’t going to give up his demands. The best thing he could do in this situation was support him. “You know the rules in this gym. No easy fights. If you go into this with a chip on your shoulder, you’ll just go to sleep again.”
“I worked hard, Henry. You know that better than anyone else—”
“Then why did you lose the last one?” Henry cut him off.
Jack was caught a little off-guard by the question. “You said it yourself, right? The better man won. He was just better at boxing than me.”
“Don’t give me that, kid. I said he was the better man, not the better boxer.”
“Am I supposed to decrypt that?”
“You know the truth already, don’t you? You know why you lost.”
“Because he hit me more than I hit him?” Jack said back, unamused.
“You’re a boxer who fights on the outside. You’re used to being pressured by fighters and taking a few good hits. You lost that match because you gave up, Jack.”
“I didn’t,” Jack said, walking toward Henry.
“You gave up on winning. You gave up on what you worked for.”
Perhaps those words were harsh, but Jack understood. He did give up; by the end, he was just hoping to survive. He stopped moving, stopped hitting back.
“Your mind is your greatest weapon, kid. If it breaks this easily then you might as well quit because we won’t get anywhere.”
“Just get me another fight,” Jack said, not wanting to talk.
“So you can give up again?”
“I won’t give up. I’ve wanted to be a boxer all my life. I’ve worked hard for it. I’m not giving up.”
“I’ll get you another fight when you’re ready. A boxer cannot be scared in the ring. Courage is our greatest ally. Find it in you, Jack.”
“So I just lost via KO and the best advice you can give me is to have some balls?”
“That’s all you’re going to need.”
“Some coach I have.”
Henry smiled. He had always been harsh on Jack, perhaps too much at times. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said.
Jack prepared to leave and get ready for his class. But before he could leave, Henry stopped him. “By the way,” he said, “we have a new kid coming in today, an amateur boxer. Says he wants to go pro. Need you to run a few tests on him”
“Like sparring?”
“Basic stuff, holding the pad for him to punch, watch his fundamentals. You got knocked out yesterday so don’t get hit in the head if you’re sparring.”
“That’s usually the goal.”
“His name is Alex Witts. He’ll be here soon.”
“He’s an amateur? Do you know his record?”
Henry looks through his computer. “Fifty wins and two losses.”
“Fifty?” Jack asked. “What’s he doing at this gym?”
“I’ll ignore your tone.”
Jack laughed. “This brings me back. Do you remember when I was an amateur?”
“You basically still are now,” Henry replied.
“Piss off,” Jack said, smiling. “I was 23-5. That’s a good ratio.”
“I remember, but we’ll have time to reminisce later. You got students waiting out there.”
Jack led a beginner class for the next hour or so. Going over the basics with them. Distinguishing every punch from one another.
To heavily simplify, it can be said that there are three basic types of punches in boxing. The straights, otherwise known as jabs. Straight punches shooting out from the shoulder from point A to B. They aren’t meant to do a lot of damage but are primarily used to create openings in the opponent’s guards via feints or to manage distance through pushing an opponent away. The hooks—punches coming from the side—a power puncher’s best friend. Hooks have more force and can be used quickly: a powerful and reliable weapon for any boxer. Then there was the uppercut, a punch meant to put somebody’s lights out. Shooting up from the bottom, it utilises the strength of the boxer’s whole body and focuses it on one point.
When the classes wrapped up. Jack saw another person enter the gym. A new face he hadn’t seen before. With hair longer than his, a boy younger than him. Jack went over to greet him.
“Hey, Alex Witts?”
“Yes, do you know where coach Henry is?”
“He’s in the office right now. I lead classes on Tuesday and Thursday so he usually does paperwork when I’m around.”
“So you’re one of the coaches?”
“I’m… the only coach,” Jack said. “You didn’t pick a very glamorous gym.”
“Yeah, I kinda figured when I saw it was half of the price of… literally every other gym. But I heard that there’s a pro who trains here. I wanted to meet and spar him. Do you know where he is?”
Jack wasn’t shocked that Alex wanted to spar a pro. After all, he wanted to do the same things when he was an amateur. He was, however, kind of shocked that Alex didn’t put two and two together.
“Yes, he’s me.”
“You?”
“I don’t look it, do I?” Jack said with a smile.
“No, I just meant… I’ve never seen a pro who’s also a trainer.”
“Can’t say no to the paycheck, mate,” Jack replied. “Come on, get inside. You ready to get to work?”
“Of course.”
Alex practically ran by Jack and into the gym. He placed his bag down and took off his jacket before putting on his boxing shoes and wrapping his hands for protection. Alex bounced around the gym before throwing a few punches. Shadow-boxing, as it’s known.
Jack grabbed a couple of pads from the other side of the gym and held them up for Alex.
He wanted to test out the fundamentals, building combos from each punch. He asked Alex to start off with a jab; a punch from his left hand. Immediately, Jack realised Alex’s greatest strength. His speed. His jab was so fast that Jack barely had time to react. Had the punch been aimed at him, he would have certainly been caught off-guard.
Then it was a basic combo. The one-two. A jab from the left and right. Jack added more punches to it. A one-two hook, then adding an uppercut. His speed followed Jack’s mitts wherever they went. Impacts that sounded like gunshots every time their hands met. The amateur’s accuracy was certainly notable. He was on every beat.
Although Alex’s speed was certainly impressive, his technique was sloppy at its best. Jack was impressed that Alex had managed to win fifty fights when he was this behind in fundamentals. His footwork was also a mess. The way he moved whilst he was attacking was like an excited child running. There were definite flashes of talent but he was still clearly unpolished. After a few rounds, Jack could see that Alex was already tired. His cardio seemed to be another problem
“So…” Alex said, barely able to breathe. “Sparring?”
“You sure you can fight after that, mate?”
“Yeah. Yeah… No problem,” Alex said with a positive smile.
“Suit yourself, mate.”
The others at the gym gathered around the ring. Most people believed Jack would win, seeing as he was the pro. But Alex was no slouch either. His speed alone could overwhelm Jack. He waited for Alex to put on his headgear.
Jack closed his eyes, focusing on the ring. He saw Alex in the other corner, impatiently bouncing on his feet. He entered his orthodox stance. His left foot in front with his right in the rear. He kept his guard high, covering his chin and relaxing his body to be able to move more fluently. Jack loved fighting on the outside, where his opponent’s punches could reach him. But against Alex, he knew he could win on the inside.
The bell rang. A timer was set for three minutes. The match began.
Alex sprinted out of his corner, starting the fight off with an electric jab that Jack backed away from. Alex continued to chase after him. He wanted to push Jack to the rope, where he could unload a barrage of punches and overwhelm his defence. This strategy had worked for him several times before, since there weren’t many who could keep up with his speed.
Alex continued pushing forward but Jack never touched the rope. He moved backward, quickly and diagonally. This was a basic method of defence that any pro boxer had grown accustomed to… but not Alex. Most of his former opponents weren’t very experienced and would walk straight back as a way to avoid pressure, soon finding themselves on the rope. Jack also utilised excellent footwork to maintain his distance just outside of Alex’s range so that he wouldn’t be able to catch him with any punches. Sometimes pivoting away from Alex, putting his weight on his lead foot and turning with his whole body.
It took a bit more time than Jack would have guessed, but he finally understood it. He had grasped Alex’s rhythm. As his opponent stepped in close to him, Jack surprised him by moving forward, meeting him on the inside. Alex opened his combo with a left hook that would have surely hit Jack had it been a surprise. But the pro saw it coming before Alex had even loaded it. He ducked lower, widening his stance for better balance as he knew more punches were coming.
A right straight, a left uppercut, and a right hook. Jack managed to dodge all of them with ease. Alex was left in shock. This was the first time he’d ever met somebody who could dodge all of his punches. But that was only the first part of Jack’s plan. Due to his lower and wider base, Jack was able to gear up for a more powerful punch. He wound up a right hook, aimed at his opponent’s chin. Alex managed to see it just in time and weaved back. But the punch never came, it was merely a feint; a fake punch meant to scare the opponent and force him to alter his defence.
In other words, a bluff.
If this was the fight yesterday, my opponent would have instantly realised that it was a feint, Jack thought to himself. I didn’t even put my hip into it and the wind-up was way over-exaggerated. It was a sloppy bluff, he thought, aware of his fatigue from the previous night’s fight.
Jack shot up from his lowered stance and jumped closer to Alex, closing out the distance between them, giving him no time to react. Not to mention, due to dodging back earlier, Alex was still off-balance.
But I guess that’s the difference between a pro and an amateur.
A clean left hook landed on Alex, dropping him. Suddenly, the three minutes ended, with Jack standing over Alex. The victor being obvious.
“Good fight, mate. Nearly had me on the ropes,” Jack said, quickly taking his gloves off and helping Alex up. “How old are you, mate?”
“Seventeen. I’m turning eighteen soon.”
“Wow, then you’re making good pace. Keep up the work here and you’ll catch up to me eventually.”
“Thanks,” Alex said, getting up slowly. “How the hell did you dodge all my punches? I thought I was faster than you.”
“You are. You probably hit harder than me too. But I can see your punches coming.”
“Didn’t know I was fighting an X-man. I would have tried harder,” Alex said, laughing.
“It’s your rhythm, mate,” Jack explained. “You’re so focused on punching all the time that I knew when the next punch was going to come. Then it wasn’t a matter of reaction anymore, it was a matter of placement. Moving myself to spots where it’d be harder for you to hit me or force certain punches out of you.”
Jack entered his stance again to explain it in more detail.
“Think about our movements like a dance. One, two. One, two,” he said, moving his head and body up and down according to the count. “Your punches had their own rhythm. Their own dance. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four,” Jack said, throwing the same combo twice. Every number would equate to a punch.
Every boxer subconsciously falls back into a rhythm. After all, they train the same punches, the same combo thousands of times; habits are likely to form. Which is why when in a match, boxers can fall back into a predictable rhythm if they aren’t aware of it.
“Even though you had a very quick rhythm and it was initially hard to get used to, as you chased me around the ring, I got myself used to it. Then it was just a matter of landing a counter. I’ll teach you that one day.”
Alex went to his corner and sat down. He smiled out of astonishment.
“You thought about all of that while we were fighting?”
“Part of the job. Boxing’s deeper than just throwing punches.”
“Man…” Alex sighed, before his smile returned again. “I think I picked a good gym.”
Jack laughed. Most guys, after getting beat up on their first day, would quit, yet Alex seemed even more enthused than before. Jack understood the feeling, there were little things more joyous in boxing than training with someone levels above you. Jack told Alex to rest because he had to head out. He went to talk to Henry before leaving and quickly summarised their training session. Alex definitely has potential, but as it was, he wasn’t yet ready for the professional ring.
Jack left to go pick up Emily. He thought to himself that things were probably going to only get busier with her around. But he had a bit of hope that he could hold out. After all, he had done well today.
