Three Un-Connected, Non-Boxing Stories

Two simple anecdotal essays and one story about a complex mind.

Three Un-Connected, Non-Boxing Stories

Story One: Billy Conn

I should have said: “Billy Conn”. Better yet, I should have screamed “Billy Conn!”

For some reason I didn’t. And that’s why I had a miserable life. There were four of us sitting quietly at a table in a quite cozy restaurant. My dad, a friend of his, his friend´s lady and me. While they were drinking booze, I settled for a soda. The atmosphere was engaging. You could feel the buzz all around the place. There is nothing like a get together after a historic boxing fight and, guys, the one we went to was one of the greatest of all time.

But, forget about boxing. This has nothing to do with it. Maybe, if there is time left, I´ll tell you later about the fight we witnessed that night.

Now, let´s just focus on a real important thing and that is the reason I didn´t scream “Billy Conn”. I can go on and on telling you all sort of excuses not to have said out loud “Billy Conn”, but unfortunately the reason why I did not, it is not only shocking; but, quite frankly, embarrassing: I was just pretified of saying something wrong. I mean, I knew who they were talking about and they just forgot the name of that boxer who took Joe Louis to a boxing clinic for thirteen rounds before being stopped by the Brown Bomber. They were guessing and throwing all names into the discussion. From Jim Braddock to Max Baer to Jersey Joe Walcott to Ezzard Charles…, hey they even mentioned Tony Galento!

And me, a fifteen-year-old-kid knew exactly what the answer was, but those two words couldn´t come out of my mouth. My dad was already in his sixties and he was, by no means, a boxing expert, I would say he was just a casual fan if you like. The other two, were a couple already in their seventies. The man was indeed a boxing expert and his lady was also very knowledgeable of the subject. However, neither of the them could come up with that name. I just let the chance pass. I remained silent. I could have been the hero of the night, but the fear of saying something wrong buried me that night.

And the main problem was that that event not only happened that night, it was a constant in the forthcoming years and even before that night, episodes like that were common in my life.

Do I regret not having the courage to scream “Billy Conn!”? Man, you bet I do!

In all honesty, I´m still a bit concern about the happenings of that night. Was it really that bad that I would have said an incorrect answer? Well, it certainly was.  But, in retrospective I should have weighed the pros and cons of saying those two words out loud. I mean, it would have gone like this:

Me: “Excuse me, but I believe the fighter you are talking about is no other than Billy Conn.”

They: “That´s right! Billy Conn it was!”

Then, the conversation would have turned smoothly afterwards, and I would have, probably, become the center of the conversation. They would turn their attention to me and I would have let out all my knowledge of the sweet science. I, even, can foresee having the best sleep in years. It would have been so gratifying that it would have, certainly, changed my life for good.

On the other hand, it could have gone like this:

Me: “It has to be Billy Conn… I mean the boxer you are talking about…”

They: “Billy Conn? No kid, Billy Conn was the one who…” Then I would have pissed my pants, I would have wanted to disappear right there and I, for sure, wouldn´t have had a pleasant sleep at all.

The question is: Would it have been worth it? Forty years later, I can easily say yes it would; specially since I was right.

Years went by and the ghost of not having had the courage that night kept haunting me.  For instance, the night I wasn’t capable of saying aloud the name of that girl I had a crush on her. I mean, I knew she had a crush on me too. I spotted her as she was leaving the place I was at that night. I just froze and couldn’t even get up of my stool nor say her name. Needless to say, I never saw her again until it was too late in life. That night I went to bed and, foreseeable, did not have a pleasant sleep. I repeated to myself over and over, not the name of the girl, but “Billy Conn, Billy Conn”. It was exactly the same situation. Right there I felt the same pain I had felt ten years before. It was the same bad feeling. This time my heart was broken as well as my self-esteem.

It is what it is as they say, but for me it was heartbreaking and embarrassing at the same time. How come a man can´t do such simple things as to say a name or get up of a stool?

Fear. That´s the name of what stopped me from my happiness. And I just had to write this story, so you avoid being affected by that in your life.

Well, I think we still have some time left to tell you about the fight we witnessed that “memorable” night.

The date was April 15^th, 1985. One of the most grueling match took place that night. The War: Hearns vs Hagler.

Unlike me, both fighters neglected fear to take control over them. Instead, they let their hands go and hurt each other at will. It did matter who won that night, but in the long run the outcome of the match seems more and more unimportant. The important thing is that they dared to step into that ring, they dared to throw everything they got and with that they immortalized their careers.

It would have been the same to me. I just had to dare saying something wrong. Saying “Billy Conn” would have immortalized me one way or the other.

After all what really diminishes us, it´s not the things that perturb us, it´s realizing that we don´t have what it takes to change those things.

 End of Billy Conn

 

 

Story Two: Ode to Freckles.

I have a trick. Believe it or not, it works. Well, in all honesty, it worked once. It´s quite simple. Whenever I meet a girl I always tried to “guess” her birthday date. How do I do it? I, always, use the same date: Nov 7^th. Why so? Well, it´s the date of one of my favorite fights of all time.  On Nov 7^th, 1988, Sugar Ray Leonard capture two belts at the same time. But, that´s not important at all. I mean the belts, and moreover that there were two that he conquered that night. As I grew older, belts and trophies have become more and more insignificant to me. Oh my… It seems no matter what I want to say, I always end up talking about boxing. Indeed, Leonard vs Lalonde took place on Nov 7^th, 1988. It was a brutal fight. Leonard went down in the fourth, got up and finished the Canadian-born in the ninth. One of the most amazing comebacks in boxing history. For the casual fans Leonard came across as a cocky, elusive, technical fighter who danced around his opponents and accumulate points throwing meaningless punches, but the truth is he was one of the fiercest forces to ever step in a ring. But each to their own…

Back to my “trick”. It was one Tuesday afternoon that it happened. I came in, but I didn´t say hello. It was a small room, but quite pleasant I might say. The whole point of being there was to address my troubled soul. Before I forget, I didn´t say hello, not because there were no people in that room or that I wasn´t polite enough. I didn´t because I was so insecure that, according to my own belief, even the sound of my voice wasn´t pleasant enough for the audience. However, everything changed as soon as I took seat. The girl to my right did say “Hello” and she did it in a way that propelled my senses to heights I wasn´t aware of. I was trying to comeback from a quite letdown in my sentimental life. That “Hello” was followed by a turn of his head. I had to turn myself too and then… our eyes collided and… BOOM!! Alright, alright. You might be a little tired of hearing about fireworks and these nonsenses; but you, my dear reader, have to understand that that was long time ago, and that kind of fireworks did exist back in the day.

Was it her freckled face? It might have been. But what took place after that “Hello” was something unheard of at that time. I mean in my wee world, where to strike a conversation was a task almost impossible to achieve. However, I did say “Hello” and struck a conversation back. Of course, I used my “trick” for the very first time and as you already know, it worked!

The important thing here is not the “trick” itself, but the power of those magical freckles that took a shy and irresolute boy to an unexpected level of boldness and fierce Just like Leonard did on Nov the 7^th.

End of Ode to Freckles

 

Story Three: The Dream of a Misanthrope (Part One)

I can´t help but telling the truth. Neither I want to do it. I am the most antisocial human being the Earth has ever given birth to. Whether I was born that way or not, I don´t really know. The fact is I despise everything with human connotations. Maybe it all has to do with this pathetic job. Why are they always late? I do know: To make me feel more miserable. But I got to tell you something: No matter how hard you try, you´ll never, ever, be able to break me down! Do you know why? Because I´m much stronger than all of you!

I know every section, every row, every seat of this theater. I, even, know how many steps have every stair. By the way, I haven´t made up my mind whether the upper step is still a step, or just already the floor. Anyway, there is no way you can stray me away from my responsibility. An ordinary usher is someone who just show the spectators their seats. I, on the contrary, dig into your emotions. I watch you come in to the theater and see your faces turn into desperation, reaching unexpected levels of anxiety trying to find your seats Then, I come into play…

As an expert usher, I know everything about you. Once you pass the threshold of “my” theater, you belong to me!

What you wear reveals a lot about yourself, but what really tells me who you are is the way you move. Your strut gives your personality away. Once I discover who you are, the easiest part of my job begins: Taking you to your seats. Sometimes, I just show you where your seat is; other times I take you directly to them. Why the difference? I mean, what makes me do one thing or the other? The answer is simple: Your personality. It´s you who drive yourself into your seats. I just let my feelings carry me through the process. You think you are a spectator once you get into “my” theater; quite on the contrary: I am the real spectator! I watch carefully each and every one of you. During recess, I go outside, smoke a cigarette and match every car in the parking lot with you. After watching you for a few minutes, I am able to know more about yourself than you are capable of.

….

Author's Note

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