Turn of dreams
By the time I reached high school I had engaged in countless fights. I was vertically challenged, baby faced, and underestimated by my classmates and peers. I was always the shortest kid in class. The new kid that no one knew. The kid that manicured himself daily, in turn, growing hatred and jealousy from others. I was confronted regularly.
This particular tussle on school grounds had been the birth of my career, the beginning of Pugilism. The kid that dared to show disrespect saw his size as a weapon to do what he please. And during his run of break-ins in the school locker's he came across my number, and then took what he pleased. My personal belongings had been swiped, but more importantly my dignity. I was shameful that he took my belongings. Embarrassed because I had been a victim of theft. An unfortunate crime caused by a degenerating youth.
Having been the new kid in school, I saw his error of foolishness as an opportunity to establish my name. But I was fearful of the conflict. I was in a new school, the second school this year, and I had not known a soul. The unknown is always intimidating, and made me feel self consciously smaller.
The bully had boasted his sired name to peers growing his respect. Listening to high school gossiping teens, I found his favorite location and devised a plan to approach him. He was with some friends. A bunch of young burn outs that saw education as a waste of time but, somehow landed in the popular crowd. I had been told not to approach him because he was a scrappy teen, a tall kid with a lean face and frame.
During my school years I had always been a gentleman collar. I would comb the hair everyday, iron the clothes everyday, and of course would find time in establishing conversation everyday. I found the attractiveness of a female to be overwhelming, where I had to make her mine. This effect of attraction I had with girls made others jealous of my being. Having been the smallest kid in the class room, my lack of intimidation caused them to declare war with me. They would figure a way to make me appear foolish, a way of talking down on me because they were bigger than me.
As the birds and bees hummed in one another's ears, echoing the walls of passing period, growing my embarrassment, I find the barbarous trait of mammal to come over me.
I approached him. "Why did you steal my things." I felt the contraction and expansion of my heart pulsing faster, causing the sweat glands to release perspiration on my forehead and under the armpits. Tension had engulfed the air about the cafeteria and every student could feel the rising conflict.
This conflict I begin to draw with him would scare my body and mind fearfully, where I felt I had to fight. The mind causes the adrenal gland to release epinephrine into the blood stream, and my body turn numb. My prideful heart circulates the man made drug over the body, elevating my blood temperature.
I become angry because I had been deprived of my manhood. My fearful state of mind had caused adrenaline then anger to come over me like a crashing wave. I regretfully contemplate my decision of confrontation, but, as the new kid hoping to draw their respect, I must find a reason to fight. And his error of disrespect by making me appear foolish had blossomed perfectly.
He then chuckled at my bantam self, then smiled happily because he rain bigger than me.
"Because I can." He demanded while grinning a face I will never forget.
The disrespectful comment that had been herd by others caused embarrassment to flood the body cavity, and the corner of my eyes become wet. The eyes become wet for the pain he soon will endure. "I want to smash his face with my fists," I conspire to myself. The pride that engulfed my heart too kindled my fists, for I demand respect. Then, as the adrenaline race through my body for fight, it drew a small window of opportunity. The window of opportunity said, speak now, or forever hold your peace.
My reality had burned red, and I rose the fists angrily to cause him harm. I threw a right cross that landed flush on his lips. The impact of justice had rearranged his equilibrium where he stumbled back, and then, from lack of experience of a fight I use my brute force for leverage. But my mind falsely believed I was bigger. My small frame had not suffice the work load.
He threw me over his shoulder and onto a cafeteria table. The energy of our tussle drew a dramatic crowd of hormonal teenagers screaming cry wolf. But, my name had finally reached their mouth's, and forever I had been known to fight. And when they know of your willingness to engage combat, to blossom war, they will think twice before causing your name contempt.
But after the dust had settled, and the school council decided I should serve time under suspension, father begins to show me the real ropes of boxing. He said, "never wrestle a bigger man." Signing me out of the school office and drove me home.
You're not very big, Michael." Father states the obvious disappointment, and I grow cold of the unfortunate shame. Father butterflied my battle wounds shut, then orders of boxing lessons.
"Put your guard up," Addressing father in a Coach manner. I hold the fists too low under the chin. The elbows too far from the body, and I stand wide, square on the heels. He corrects my stance. Placing my fists firmly over the cheek bones and under the eyes, and the elbows on the rib cage. He rearranges my feet, placing my stance narrow and long with my left foot leading. He tilts my chin to the floor and orders for me to look up.
"Look at me with your eyes not your face," father demanded. "This is your basic Boxing stance. And you must remain in the fight stance every second of the fight. I comply with a simple nod of the head. "This is your longest point of contact." Pointing to my left hand. " This is your jab. You must lead with the jab before throwing the cross."
I had been a natural right handed fighter; I question my thought. "But I feel stronger punching with my right, not my left. Shouldn't I lead with the right?"Father pressed his lips together, almost as if he had become embarrassed for not teaching me the skill of boxing before.
"You lead with your left, like a range finder, a distraction to make your opponent blink." He said while flinging his jab as an example. "Then, when you locate the target, the correct distance of the other fighter, you must sling the right hand across the body, straight as an arrow."
His hip snapped forward, his shoulder punched then his first. It was like a rhythmic motion of the body that generated force.
As I learn a new technique and a new skill each day that I never thought to have, I replay the day that caused my name embarrassment, and I begin to turn the negative thoughts into positive energy, cultivating the body and mind for greatness. I begin training in defeating man in hand to hand combat every day. I wanted to be the best fighter at my school, the most dedicated Pugilist.