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I first walked in one summer afternoon in 1973. I just wanted to see. It was thrilling, exciting, exotic. Deep in the back of my mind I wanted to catch a look at that obnoxious loudmouth, Clay. I never did see him that day.
It was scary. The place was filled with muscular black guys and latinos and I knew the very least of them could hand me my ass and thoroughly humiliate me. I had nothing to fear. Those guys were there to work, not bully some too-skinny, untrained geek. Besides, management wouldn't tolerate that sorta behavior.
I came back often after that, just to watch the sparring. I never put on the gloves. I had enough trouble with my old man, who would give me hell every time he found out I'd been there, God forbid I should ever come home bruised!
He'd been my first boxing coach but he was afraid I'd get some crazy idea to take it more seriously and wind up like some brain-damaged, punch-drunk lug.
It was scary. The place was filled with muscular black guys and latinos and I knew the very least of them could hand me my ass and thoroughly humiliate me. I had nothing to fear. Those guys were there to work, not bully some too-skinny, untrained geek. Besides, management wouldn't tolerate that sorta behavior.
I came back often after that, just to watch the sparring. I never put on the gloves. I had enough trouble with my old man, who would give me hell every time he found out I'd been there, God forbid I should ever come home bruised!
He'd been my first boxing coach but he was afraid I'd get some crazy idea to take it more seriously and wind up like some brain-damaged, punch-drunk lug.
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