The first major development is that I've finally grown some wind. My first three two-minute rounds in the ring lasted about a decade and a half; and after the first three minutes, as previously noted, I was so tired I couldn't fall down and die. This last time around, my third sparring session, my wind and general stamina were much improved. Actually, my mouthpiece was also much-improved: I bought a new model with big holes in the front so I can suck air through my mouth without spitting the damned thing out, a major feature of previous sessions. Anyway. Whatever the reason, improved fitness, or improved airflow, I had a lot more juice. And I found this made a huge difference. When you're completely knackered and you start getting in trouble, you're soon going to be in much worse trouble. When you've got some gas in the tank and you start getting in trouble – you can punch your way out. That makes a huge difference. If you've got some air and some arm, you can start throwing the latter out there, and get your opponent off of you.
    I was also moving better, and defending myself better, and managing to throw a few decent combos. I'm liking this right-uppercut/left-hook combo. There just doesn't seem to be any great way to block an uppercut and, at our level at any rate, people don't seem to be expecting them. And the first punch causes enough confusion and scrambling that they don't see the left coming, which is pretty much the point of a hook in the first place. I also don't mind a simple straight left/right combo, with a big left step in. And I keep my left hand moving, just to keep my opponent from settling down; as I mentioned, I figured out quickly I have a decent left hand.
    All that said: I got completely put away in one bout. Just pummelled right into the corner, and onto the mat. I was fighting this guy who has about maybe three inches and twenty pounds on me. But, more to the point, he does private training with one of our instructors. Guy can fight a little. Anyway, I was standing up to him, but he started throwing a bit of a flurry – and he's good enough that he knows the importance of pressing an advantage. So he waded on in, and down I went. It was funny, because I could see it happening, and I knew it was happening, and I knew there was pretty much nothing I could do to stop it or get out of it. But I was okay with it. I knew I could survive it. I was even laughing a little, even at the time. Later, our instructor, Graham, who actually trains actual pro boxers, pointed out that I really went down because I got my feet tangled up. I have this bad habit of lifting my back (right) foot when I throw my right and, worse, putting it back down behind and across my front (left) foot. "Mike Tyson would go down with his feet like that," Graham said, in his Irish bruiser brogue.
    I also took one shot somewhere along the line that staggered me and gave me an instant headache that I was sure was going to last a week. (It went away in a few hours.) But, all in all, I gave at least as good as I got. And I kept my feet and kept my cool and managed to put some combos and some footwork together. Great improvement.
    One measure of this was actually at a weekday session soon after. We were doing (very) light sparring, and I got matched up with the big guy who had pummelled me into near-oblivion on my very first time on the ring. We were hitting very light; but he was knackered by this point and I wasn't and I was just way too quick for him. I rather owned him, and he said as much afterwards.
    Couple of other random notes: I mentioned the defensive drills we did. As Graham pointed out, you've got to be able to sit there and take punches and not be afraid of them. If you know how to cover up, it's actually fine, and you can exhaust your opponent this way. (Graham talked about winning one fight where he didn't throw a single punch until the third round.) I also learned how to keep my head moving – before, or even whether, my opponent throws a punch. If he's got a constant moving target, his offensive job is much harder. I also learned how psychological a game it is – "totally mental" Graham said. He talked about one fight he did at "The Real Fight Club", in Brighton, a match he won before it started, by staring at his opponent like a total psycho while they were waiting.
    I also learned that, at our level, people don't have a whole lot of tricks. And whichever one they pull out, it leaves them open somewhere. So, once you've clocked it, you just wait for them to try it again – or, you even draw it out: if they like a left hook, for instance, you drop your right hand a little for them. And when you see them go into it, you know where they're going to be open. (Left side of the body for instance.) Once you do that – again, at least at this level – you can kind of score at will. That feels good. They know you've got their number somehow, but they haven't figured out how or why, and that makes them very cautious. Similarly, if they've got a good, effective combo . . . it's particularly important to come back with something, and hurt them, after they throw it. The last thing you want is your opponent thinking he can throw his good combo with impunity. Instead, you want him thinking, Damn, that really hurt like shit the last couple of times I've thrown that. You want him thinking very carefully about whether he wants to throw that again.
    So, you can see: despite the surface brutality, a very thoughtful sport.         (hide)