I wasn’t actually *too* devastated by the Yankees’ loss yesterday because of
something wonderful, wonderful, wonderful that happened earlier in the
evening. If you have a low threshold of tolerance for parents gushing about
their kids, you’d better stop reading right here.
Wednesday evenings I take my sone Danny (aged 9) to a local outfit named
“Fitness Through Boxing,” run by a local amateur boxer, Rob Vanacore. it’s
a great place — the boys get an hour of basic calisthenics mixed with
boxing instruction. I’ve written it all up for my “Straggler” column in
this week’s NRODT, as it happens.
Well, the last few months Danny’s just been learning stuff — working the
bags, skipping rope, and so on. Last night, for the first time, he put on a
sparring helmet and went in the ring one on one with an instructor. I
simply can’t tell you how thrilling it was to watch. The instructor is an
ex-US Army boxer and European amateur champion (Jr. Middleweight), who also
boxed professionally for a while. Big guy, fast and skillful. My son is
4′6″ in his socks, and skinny like his Dad. He was game, though, chasing
Tony round the ring, keeping up his guard, throwing all his punches, ducking
and weaving. For a doting Dad, this was something to see. I only regret I
didn’t have a camera.