Such a sweet picture of two brave little boxers touching gloves in the ring.Thanks to their PT master, the boys at my son's prep school were tutored in the rudiments of boxing and the Queensbury rules and I shall never forget their first contest. My son, David was paired with a lad of comparable size and both boys had their two-minute slot in the ring. Their gloves, even though designed for their 8-year old hands, were enormous and their heads did not even reach the height of the ropes!
None of this took away how brave the pair of them looked standing face to face in their boxing shorts ready to touch those enormous gloves of theirs and stand their ground like proper little men. It was a proud sight.
The boys circled each other probing one another's guards as they hopped from foot to foot, hoping to find a weakness and follow it though; grim determination on both boys' faces. Their PT master towered over them, his arms held outwards and slightly envelopping them as though somehow protecting the boys as he stooped over them and spoke to them in turn, reminding them of technique.
"Good boy, Atkins," he said softly to David, "keep your guard up, lad."
None of this took away how brave the pair of them looked standing face to face in their boxing shorts ready to touch those enormous gloves of theirs and stand their ground like proper little men. It was a proud sight.
The boys circled each other probing one another's guards as they hopped from foot to foot, hoping to find a weakness and follow it though; grim determination on both boys' faces. Their PT master towered over them, his arms held outwards and slightly envelopping them as though somehow protecting the boys as he stooped over them and spoke to them in turn, reminding them of technique.
"Good boy, Atkins," he said softly to David, "keep your guard up, lad."
"Keep going, Chapman," he said to David's opponent, "in with the left, in with the right. Keep jabbing. keep him on his guard, Chapman."
The PT master, an ex-military man, spoke softly as a father would. His voice carried admiration for both of the boys as they continued to circle gently, probing each other's guard and seeking that split second lapse. Then, it happened. My lad managed to break through, delivering a quick volley of blows sending his opponent back towards the ropes.
"Good boy, Atkins!" the PT master's voice showed his admiration. "Keep going, Atkins, keep going!"
The PT master, an ex-military man, spoke softly as a father would. His voice carried admiration for both of the boys as they continued to circle gently, probing each other's guard and seeking that split second lapse. Then, it happened. My lad managed to break through, delivering a quick volley of blows sending his opponent back towards the ropes.
"Good boy, Atkins!" the PT master's voice showed his admiration. "Keep going, Atkins, keep going!"
As the man spoke, he edged sideways, arms still envelopping the boys as he did so. As David's opponent touched the ropes, the PT master raised his right arm to signal David to stop.
Once David's opponent had regained his balance, nothing more happened. One minute remained during which both boys managed to keep their guard up and neither managed to break through. But it was no less a proud moment for it as the boys' parents watched their sons
taking a surefooted step closer to manhood.
taking a surefooted step closer to manhood.
