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Tuesday, February 28, 2012

The Fighter Still Remains

I would not have guessed this, but boxers taper as swimmers do.  In his last week before the tournament, Roberts went for a short run in the morning, and then met a coach for a workout in the evening.  By Thursday, though, he had shut the energy valves all together.

Before his arrival, I'd had the impression that this elite athlete would be among us, training for hours on end and consuming mass quantities of food.  Instead, there was an elite athlete among us who read a lot, napped each afternoon, and chatted about his family, my family and, as his week of weight-watching progressed, all the food he would eat back in Chicago after the tournament.  Portillos.  Nina's steak house.  Giordano's stuffed pizza.  Poor guy.

And we talked more about boxing:

Does he know most of the guys he'll be competing against in this tournament?

Yeah, most of them.  And they know him.


Does the posturing start right there in the hotel lobby while they're all registering for the event?  You know, like the swagger and the stink eye and staring guys down?

No.  They usually shake hands (he mimes the hand-grip-pull-in-for-a-man-brother-hug) and say 'How you doin'?' and stuff.  And then in the ring, they just fight. 


Are there any competitors he just can't stand?

No, he likes them all well enough.  Sometimes they'll want to be friends on Facebook.  Robert says, "They try to 'friend' me, and I'm like, 'The extend of our relationship is that we punch each other,' but they're all good enough guys."


Does he feel acclimated?

Yes, he can tell a big difference from his first run here.  Not all the competitors will have had the opportunity to acclimate, so his strategy will be to hit the gas right away and get the other guy winded. 

(The fights are 3 rounds of 3 minutes each, which doesn't seem long to me.  But in the ring, I'll bet "early" feels "early" and the "later" feels a lot later.) 


I asked him if he was well known, if he was a guy to watch out for.

He's modest.  Not enamored with himself.  But a record is a record, and his is pretty notable.  Yeah, guys know who he is, and that he's "heavy-handed."

Huh?

"They tell me that.  I'm real heavy-handed, like my punch just goes right through them.  Some guys are heavy-handed like that--just the physiology and the bone structure" (and the technique, I'm thinking) "makes the punch just plow hard.  Some guys they call 'feather-fisted,' because the punches just don't land hard."

How could someone feather-fisted even compete?  A point is a point, I guess, regardless of how much the opponent feels it.

Hey.  "Heavy-handed," I'm going to add that to the List on our List page.  Check it out.  The tab is at the top.



Roberts liked our dog, Benziger.  He's small.  (The dog, not Roberts, who is 6'3.)  But he's confident.  (The dog, not. . .oh, well, yes, both of them.) 

Benziger barked at Roberts when we first came in the door from the airport.  One bark.  Pause.  Another bark.  Pause.  Another.  And so on for a couple minutes.

The dog followed our guest down to his room in the bathroom and instead of following me back up as Benziger always does, he stayed there watching Roberts.  Kept poking his head around the corner to see him, Roberts reported, and then darting back whenever Roberts turned to look. 

Good dogKeep an eye on that guy. 

The kids liked Roberts, too.  There wasn't any wrestling or horsing around--I do believe Josh could injure someone--but there was something about him that the kids appreciated.  Gemma made him an elaborate birthday card.  Josh burst into tears when told that Roberts would be leaving the next day. 

And Bryan liked having him visit as well.  Didn't get to talk with him as much, but enjoyed his company when he could. 

We had a bit of time to use before he was to leave with Bryan to check in at his hotel and tournament. And we used it to watch an episode of Seinfeld, of which Roberts is also a huge fan. 

(It was the one where Kramer gets a rooster and names it 'Little Jerry' and ends up training it for a cock fight.  Roberts and I were laughing the whole time.  Bryan came in at the end, saw Jerry holding up mits for the rooster to peck at during its training session and said, "Cocks fight with their feet.  This is ridiculous," and that is why Bryan a) hates the show and b) ruins it for the rest of us but also c) demonstrates his devotion to me in that he is the one who bought me the deluxe box set of the series when it was half off at Best Buy.)

It was time for him to go, and we prayed for him.  Roberts is a Christian.  These were prayers he appreciated. 

I am writing this post on Saturday, but it will not go up until Tuesday, by which time, Roberts will have already fought at least once.  I intend to keep you posted on his results.


But in the meantime, let me tell you the highlight of my week with this person: 

He decided he wants to try acting.  He's got plans for boxing, hopes for going professional, other  hopes for expanding his business as a personal trainer.  But he wants to try acting.

He took a class at Second City and decided he liked it.  He was able to get some nice head shots.  He's ready to start seeking agent representation.

And all this was my highlight because it was just so inspiring.  Why not?  You like acting?  You've always wanted to try acting?  Then why wouldn't you go ahead and try acting?

I had been thinking for months now that I really wanted to blog again. 
"But this." 
"But that." 
"But. . . "

And then: Why not?


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