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A madman’s levy

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BAGA challenge has been thrown at me.  A duel has been announced. A subtle yet loud war-cry has sounded and the only response suitable is a battle cry of my own. With sweaty palms and a forced brave look, I have accepted the test.  My courage has been brought under immense fire and my only prayer is that it doesn’t desert me now.

You see I’ve always held a certain respect for the art of boxing.  Either street fighting or controlled in a ring, the art has been something that has held me in fascination from a young age.  It was a sign of masculinity.  “I ain’t no punk!” – that was the pre-cursor for every contest entered.  The respect in the audience’s eyes once you’ve received your beating without backing down.  The appreciation of those around you as you land that necessary blow that has your opponent barely hanging on.  Finding that sweet spot between the ribs that sends both your challenger and the spectators doubled over – that’s the drive.  You can’t deny the thrill.

Unfortunately, it has been a very long time since I had been involved in a bout of boxing and the bones have since turned to liquid.  My punch, whilst still able to hold its own when handling lesser opponents, can’t be compared to anything of real substance.  That’s why this challenge has me breaking out in a cold sweat.

You see a colleague of mine has been involved in kick-boxing for a very long time and at one time, used to hold the title of champion within the region we both live.  He has, over the last two years, crossed over into boxing and has had to re-train himself to use just his hands and get the right movement to survive and overcome in the ring.  I, on the other hand, have been thus far happy to support from afar.  Whenever he came into the office with a bright red nose after a gruelling session with his trainer, I always had the good graces to laugh at him in private.

The tides have turned now however.  You see we were looking at a punch bag (medicine bag to the American) made entirely out of cow hide in Texas.  Magnificent to look at and I’m sure entirely awesome to the touch.  Imagining what it would be like to train with such exquisite equipment, the conversation took a turn that resembled verbal sparring.  My intention was not to go down this route. I know that I can hold my own when attacked but to willingly go into a fight with someone with more experience, stamina and ability than myself isn’t what I would resort to on a Friday afternoon.   Unfortunately though, my mouth is not co-operating with my brain and is spewing out words that could constitute an acceptance of the challenge laid at my feet.

The Lineaus Athletic Medicine bag will set you back $4800 but simply looking at it, you are tempted beyond belief.  Anything that would gain me an advantage, at this point I’m willing to take it.  I can foresee the end result – me getting my butt handed back to me but my pride is at stake here.  Taking the coward’s route out is not an option. That would eradicate whatever pride I had left.  This seems to be my path. Every man wants to grab the horns of his life in his hands and take control.  Mine has been wrenched from my hands but at least, despite the assured defeat, I can say that I went out with honour.  Not backing down when backed into a tight corner.  Curse that damned cow hide punch bag!

One Comment »

  • tom said:

    how did it go!?

    love your blog btw

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