Post by Dreamfire on Nov 2, 2008 3:18:35 GMT -5
If the Gym fits…
Jim hesitated, he’d stopped here, on the way home several times. But overcoming the discomfort of going somewhere new, took effort and he had shied away from it before. He gritted his teeth and turned Hank. “Door, Hank, let’s find the door.”
Hank turned to the right and started forward, Jim slowed him as he heard a door open and the sounds of a gym emanated for a moment. Hank stopped and a man’s steps could be heard coming lightly down the stairs. He brushed past Jim and began jogging down the sidewalk. Definitely the right place. Jim motioned Hank forward and they ascended the stairs.
Walking into the foyer Jim listened carefully, he could hear the thumping of bags, and someone skipping rope but no indication of a reception. That was no surprise, the sort of places Jim used to go never had anything as fancy as a reception and really even now, that wasn't the sort of place he was looking for. He heard a cough somewhere to his right and turned. “Excuse me?”
“What can I do for you?” a gruff voice answered; smoker, somewhere between thirty and sixty.
“I’m looking for whoever runs this place.”
“’You a cop?”
Jim held the smile back; that was a turn around, “I’m not here on business. I’m looking for a place I might be able to work out a little sometimes. ‘You in charge?”
“Yeah, name’s Gus.” The man had moved silently and now spoke directly in front of Jim.
Jim held out his hand, “Jim Dunbar.” The shake was firm, dry, calloused like a boxer.
“We don’t have any of those fancy weight machines or anything here. It’s a boxing gym.”
“Yeah, I know.” Jim licked his lips.
“What sort of work out you looking for?”
“Well, actually I’m not sure. Those modern gym’s…” He shook his head, he’d never felt comfortable in those, even when he could see. “they’re not my thing. I wondered if I could use a bag, maybe somewhere to skip rope.” He indicated Hank. “Running in the park, it’s not working out and I need to find a way to keep fit.”
“Well, I do have one treadmill, you could start there. Ready to go now?”
“Sure, yes.” He patted his bag, where he carried sweats and a towel.
“Alright, I’ll show you the change room, you have a run and then if you think this might work for you, I’ll take you on a full tour.”
“Thanks.”
The fellow moved off in front of him, gym shoes squeaking on the wooden floor and Jim motioned Hank forward.
Gus gave Jim a locker space near the door, “When you come back there might be a bunch of kids here, they’re rowdy but good kids, you got any valuables, lock them in here.”
The man took Jim’s hand and placed a key in it. “The treadmill is out this door and just on the left there. It’s old fashioned, no electronics, you walk the tread moves, you slow it slows. Just be careful if you get up some momentum it can take a while to slow down. If you need me just call out, this place has terrible acoustics and I’ll hear you from anywhere.”
“Thanks.” Jim gave him a smile. He changed, locked his suit, badge and bag in the locker and took up the harness again.
He settled Hank next to the treadmill and climbed up. It was a simple tread roll with a border, and a metal rail around. Very basic. Here goes, he thought and began to walk slowly…
An hour later Jim slowed down. It took a long time for the old treadmill to lose the momentum but slowly it got to a jog, a walk and was close to a stop, Jim hesitated, it hadn’t stopped fully and he wasn't keep to step off until it did.
“Shouldn’t be too long, son, as I said she’s an old maid.” The old man stood next to the treadmill on Jim's right. “Here, I think you might want a hand.” He took Jim's arm and held it steady as Jim stepped off the machine to the floor.
“Thanks.” In fact Jim was happy for the grip, standing on the still floor felt a little like a rolling ocean for a moment. His breath was still coming quite hard and he realized he had rather completely lost his bearings. Still he felt good, the blood pumping through his muscles bringing a warmth and the sizzle of life.
“Was that good? You’re hiding a grin like a ten year old on his birthday.” The old man sounded proud and Jim nodded, a chuckle rising.
“That was good.”
“Well, I can give you that tour now, if you think you’ll want to come back again.”
“Great.” Jim slapped his thigh and Hank took his position. Jim dried his palms on the towel and threw it around his neck. “Let’s go.”
“Should we start at the front door?”
Jim was surprised. “Yeah, that’d be the best for me.”
Hank stepped out, following Gus. “The Gym is a big rectangle with two rings in the centre. From the door, the wall to the right has mats and mirrors, and then the nook where your treadmill is.” Gus waited while Jim found the front door, stood as if he were coming in and then turned to the right – his hand indicating to Hank where he should lead. Hank stopped at the mats and Jim gave them a kick and skirted around. “They’re okay to walk on, we’re not precious around here.” Jim nodded and continued.
“Ah, you’re at the treadmill now, it’s to your left there and then in a bit we have the door to the change rooms.”
Jim followed Gus in, “This the one I used tonight?” Gus nodded. “In here, we got showers in the middle in a block, and lockers and bench around the walls. Most of my kids have their own lockers, very few drop ins here.” At that word a heard of young men trampled into the locker rooms, the sound of laughter, ribbing and a few whacks echoed off the walls.
“The bathroom is at the back.” Gus walked around as he spoke and Hank followed.
“Outa my way boys.” Gus spoke up loudly over the youthful tumult.
“Oh sorry, Gus, didn’t see you there, who you got with you?”
Then a drop in the rowdy noise. Jim imagined a dozen faces looking at him, taking in Hank by his side, he plastered a neutral expression on his face.
“I’m Jim.”
“Cool, Sir. Nice dog.”
“Yeah , yeah, let us through, Mickey, we have no desire to hold you up from hitting the shower.”
“Oh, Mr. G. you saying I smell?”
Mickey was obviously the leader, the group of boys moved around Jim and Hank and behind him into showers and bathrooms. “They’re good kids, once you get to know them. Let’s get out of here and see the rest of my gym.”
Gus walked Jim around the room, past a stand of punching bags, practice mats, the rings. He talked the whole time, filling Jim in on the equipment, some of the people using bits and pieces and stopped at a reception desk on the left of the front door.
“So that’s the grand tour.”
“Thanks, Gus, I appreciate it.” Jim had picked up his bag as they left the locker room, he figured he was close enough home to wait for his shower rather than brave a room full of exuberant teenagers. He pulled his wallet from his pocket. “What do I owe you for tonight?”
“Ten dollars for casual, but if you decide to take out a membership in the next couple of weeks I’ll take what you’ve paid off. Our membership is $200 a year.”
“Sounds like a good deal to me.” Jim handed over ten dollars. I’ll be back to meet with old Bessie again, you open tomorrow?”
“Every night, but Christmas.”
Jim held out his hand. “Thank you Gus, I’m glad I found you.”
Walking home Jim found himself whistling. In the elevator he laughed. He couldn’t remember a time since being blinded that he’d walked home whistling. He was pretty sure he’d feel the exercise in the morning but it felt good now, and Gus’s Gym, it was somewhere he thought he could feel at home in - eventually.
Saturday, a week and a half after he’d first entered, Jim stepped in and headed to the treadmill as if he’d been doing this for a year. “Oh, Jim, I’ve someone I’d like you to meet.” Gus called out from reception.
Jim turned and walked over.
“This is Joey….Shake hands Joey.”
Jim held out his hand and it was taken in a strong hand but the shake was weak, uncertain. “Nice to meet’cha.”
“Nice to meet you too, I’m Jim.”
“Joey is one of my protégé’s.”
“Aw, Gus.” A strong southern accent came forth and Jim got the image of the kid scraping his foot along the ground.
“You in a hurry tonight?”
“Me, no. Just going to do a few miles, maybe hit the bag for a bit. What’s up?”
“Joey, go get started, I’ll be there in a minute.”
Gus walked up beside Jim, “Walk with me a moment?”
Jim joined him as he started a round of the room. There was clearly something on his mind and Jim gave him the time to sort it out before he spoke.
“I’d like you to have a look at Joey’s style Jim, I know you had some successes early in the ring, I take it you were about Joey’s age when you started?”
“How old is Joey?”
“He’s sixteen.”
“Yeah, perhaps a little younger but, I don’t…”
“Just hear me out for a moment.”
Jim closed his mouth and continued to walk beside Gus, Hank’s nails clicking on the floor, the sound of a spar coming from the centre ring, men skipping in unison on his left and the repetitive sound of a man on a spring ball ahead.
“Thing is Joey’s a good kid. But he’s got this idea that cops are all bad. Seems his father got put away when he was young and he had a run in or two. So naturally Joey blames the cops for all the wrong in the world.” Jim nodded, he’d had similar thoughts as a kid. But growing up, he’d realized he had a choice about which side of that blue line he’d stand, and since making it he’d never looked back. He had a couple of brothers who were probably on the other side. But he’d made sure he never found out enough to compromise his own integrity. Hard thing to do.
“Where do I come in?”
“Joey needs a sparring partner and I was wondering if you would like to, you know, put on the gloves again?”
“I never told you I boxed.”
“So, I got my friend to look you up, you know, I had to make sure you weren’t coming in here under cover when you first arrived.”
Jim’s face showed he thought the idea ludicrous and his words were sarcastic if light. “Gus, I realize now, I’ve never told you this, I thought the guide dog was enough of a clue, but I’m blind. My boxing days are done.”
It was Gus’ turn to laugh, “No shit batman. I don’t mean full on in the ring, just sort of give him some tips, and also, I’m not sure if you could tell, but this kid is big. I don’t have anyone here who’s tough enough to hit him so he can feel it. I’d do it, but I’m pushing seventy and I don’t have much strength behind my punch anymore.”
“What about all the kids you got hanging around, surely there’s a big one in that lot?”
“I looked, there’s no one who I trust. See Joey, he needs someone who will be an example of discipline, someone who can give him as good as he can get. I can see you’ve lost condition.” Gus stopped talking for a moment. “I’d say about a year and half right? But you’ve got brawn, and I think it would be good for both of you.”
Jim was impressed that Gus could tell just by looking at him, that he’d been out of commission for a year and half. But the idea was crazy.
“All very well for young Joey here, Gus, but I lost my sight from a head injury, there’s no way I’d put myself in front of a boxer.”
“I’m not suggesting he hit you Jim, although if we had a below shoulder rule you might be okay.”
Jim shook his head. “Gus, I can’t see, I can’t dodge. The chances of me landing one are zero.”
“Can you at least do some training with him? Ropes, cannon ball? He starts to like you, I let it slip you’re a cop and bingo he realizes they’re not all bad and turns from a life of crime to boxing. I got hopes for the golden gloves for this boy.”
Jim shook his head smiling, “You are nuts. Let me meet him but you better go find another thug he can hit.”
Gus watched while the kid worked a bag. Jim stood by him and listened.
Gus gave him a few pointers and was called away. “Jim, you wait here for me? I’ll be back in a minute and you can get back to the maid.”
“Sure.”
He listened, shaking his head. The kid’s rhythm was out. “Joey, your rhythm is out. You need to hit it regularly. You know what I mean?”
“Like this?” Joey asked and hit the bag harder.
Jim listened to the slap, whack again.
“No.You need to find your rythm,” Jim stepped up. “Hank, stay.” He reached for the bag, “Stand back a minute, Joey, where you can see what I'm doing." Jim went to move his wedding ring, realized he didn’t wear it anymore and shook his head. He started at the bag slowly, right hand first, then left, then built up some speed and alternated eight left, eight right, four left, four right, left right left right.
He stopped, stepped back and took Hank’s harness again. “See rhythm?”
“Yeah, but how…?”
Jim chewed his lip for a second. “What sort of music do you like?”
“Country.”
Jim smiled, “Okay, any of those songs fast?”
“Sure.”
“Got any here, with headphones?”
“Sure.”
“Go get it.”
The kid was back in a minute. “Put it on, and then strike with the music.”
Jim stood back with Hank.
The kid started up again, all over the place to start with, the tinny music coming from his headphones bore no resemblance to music for Jim. But then when the second track came on there was a change. The pounding evened out, the speed picked up a little.
“He’s even picking up his feet a little now.” Gus’ voice was quiet in his ear. Jim nodded and turned his ear toward the floor. Yes he could hear it, now that Gus had mentioned it. Good, a boxer with lead feet was as good as dead in the ring.
“I’m, off to Bessie.”
“Thanks, Jim.”
Jim finished late that night, the kids were all gone and as he stepped off the tread mill, stretching to ease his muscles Gus called out to him. “Jim, I’m about to close up and have a drink, wanna join me?”
“And waste all this work I’ve just done?”
“Ah, I got a lightie if that helps.”
“Sure.”
Hank ambled up and attached himself to Jim's leg. Jim reached for the harness. “Everyone gone?”
“Yeah, it’s Friday night, they’ve all got hot dates, or nightclubs to go to.”
Jim found a cold bottle being pressed into his hand. He drank gratefully.
“So, how come you’re not out on the prowl? Married?” Gus prodded.
“Separated. When my wife got a promotion to LA and I didn’t want to leave my squad, we realized our jobs mean more to us than each other. Tends to kill the marriage.”
“Not hunting again?”
“Too hard.” Jim smiled. “So far, being single has very few drawbacks. Hey, since no one’s here, would you mind if I took a couple of spins around the room, I’d rather not have to drag Hank along every time I visit but with the kids always here, I haven’t been able to scope it.”
“Sure, you need a hand?”
“No, just a bit of time.” Jim retrieved his gym bag and took out his white cane. He settled Hank next to Gus and started back at the door.
Gus watched fascinated as Jim traced every nook and cranny, following the walls, counting steps between equipment. He went over a few areas twice and then put the cane away.
When he finished he walked unerringly back to the deck chairs Gus had set up next to reception.
Gus was impressed. “That do it?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know this place now?”
“Pretty much. I’ve been coming here a couple of weeks too, so that makes it easier.” He was comfortable with Gus but he preferred conversation that wasn’t about him. “How’s Joey going?”
“Good, he took your advice to heart and now I have to fight Kenny Rogers for attention.”
Jim winced, “Sorry.”
“No, it’s good. I tell you, he’s got something that kid, not sure what it is but I see him going places.”
“Stability.”
“Stability?”
“Yeah, he’s calm inside. That’s a good thing for a boxer, means he won’t get sacred and put off by the other guy’s show and also that he won’t be fooling himself when he get’s in the ring. The best of them have it.”
Gus nodded and then looked at Jim. “You’re right. I couldn’t work it our, but you’re right.”
They drank in the quiet for a while.
“He’s coming in tomorrow. I want to teach him a low drive.”
“Can you take it?” Jim sounded concerned. Teaching a low drive usually meant the trainer stood in place of the opponent and took the attempted punches; it was the only way of knowing where the newbie was aiming and how much power he was using. But it took someone who was solid. Jim had no idea how strong Gus was.
“I weigh about 105 pounds, Jim, of course I can’t. But I don’t have anyone else who understands what’s required. So I’ll take it.”
Jim turned and gave him a sour look. “What time?”
“7am”
“My rules.”
“Totally.”
“Expensive beer.” Jim smiled to take the bite from his words and called Hank. He headed home, thinking about the rules he would need to set up to get through the training. The biggest problem was balance. Losing his sight meant he had no vestibular orbital reflexes and could be unbalanced easily. He wouldn’t break landing on his ass but it wouldn’t help the kid learn and he hated looking stupid.
Gus had taken Joey aside and brought it home. “This man was runner up in the ‘96 Golden Gloves. That was the best year for boxing in the whole decade. Which, in my books, means he was as good as the best in that class today. So he’s got a lot to teach you.”
“I know, I seen him on the bags. And he’s pretty fit for an old bloke.”
Gus had to laugh, to him, Jim was barely more than a kid and this big boy in front of him was a baby.
“Now he’s only been blind a little while, and he never thought he’d put on gloves again so you got to give him no cause at all to worry.”
They watched as Jim walked confidently to the ring and climbed in. Hank had been left at home. Jim didn’t think it would be a good idea for Hank to see him being hit by someone. “I know he looks almost normal and wanders around here like he can see, but he can’t, so no fooling around at all, or we’ll lose him.”
“But he’s gonna expect me to hit him right?”
“Sure, you do it when he says to do it, but he’s teaching you a specific technique right now, no surprises, and never ever anything higher than the shoulder.”
Joey nodded, his eyes serious as he watched Jim.
Jim and Joey stood in the ring. The gym was quiet, as a place for kids to hang out it normally didn’t open early on a Saturday. Gus stood a pace or two back, watching, ready to step in if needed. Jim had explained the balance issue and had been adamant that if one punch landed above his chest, by mistake or otherwise he was out of there.
“Alright, Joey, first I’ll show you the move, in slow motion and with no force so you can see it. Then we swap and you do the same to me. We work back and forth until you have it, then we talk about doing it with some weight behind it.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Alright come here.” Jim waved him in with a gloved hand, he reached out and ran his gloves over the boy in front of him. He got the height of his shoulders, the length of his arm, at his waist he frowned. “Wait, I need to see more.” He held out his left hand to Gus, “Gus, I need this hand for a moment.”
Gus unlaced the red glove and pulled it off. Jim smiled across at the kid in front of him, “Don’t take this the wrong way, normally a fighter will know where to hit by looking...”
Jim ran his hand lightly over the boy’s midrift, located his ribs, measured the width from navel to his side. He held his hand out to Gus again. “Alright Gus, let’s hope I can remember that so this boy’s not going home with sore ribs.”
Joey started to laugh ‘til he saw Gus’ and Jim’s faces.
“I’ll make sure I know what I’m doing before I hit you hard, but, you’re going to have to learn how to take a punch as well as give one. If I missed and hit one of these lower ribs, it’d be bruised for a while.”
“Broken not bruised” Gus mimed at Joey clear as a bell so he understood. Joey turned and gave Jim his full attention.
Fifteen minutes later Jim had his technique back down pat. “Before we swap, I think you should get an idea what one of these really feels like so you aren’t tempted to hit for real before I’m ready. What do you say?”
“Sure. No probl-“
Woof, the air flew out of Joey’s lungs, he bent over double and Jim caught him before he fell to the floor. “Joey? You okay?” Jim didn’t sound worried, he knew what he was doing. The kid would be winded but not much else.
“Yeah.” He wheezed. “I wasn't ready.”
Gus’ chuckled from the sidelines. “You like to do that to Henley next week?”
A wide grin spread across Joey’s face. “Sure would.” He looked to Jim as he stood upright again, “You think I could learn that, Sir?”
“Let’s see what you got. I’ll tell you at the end.”
Jim showed Joey exactly where to land his punch, he got Gus up close to critique and make sure they were not training any bad habits like bent wrists or incorrect posture into the move. “Alright, now I know I surprised you before but I don’t want you doing that to me, deal?”
“Yes, Sir, no surprises.”
Jim planted his feet firmly and held his muscles tight. “Go.”
The throw was off, it glanced off a lower rib. “Too high, go again.”
“Good. Again.”
Five minutes of that and Jim felt Joey had the spot. “I need five minutes, go hit a bag ‘til I say stop. Then we’ll come back and this time we’ll get some weight behind it.”
“You okay? You wanna go down?” Gus asked from the ropes, concerned because Jim had said he needed five.
“No, But I need a seat for a minute.”
Gus climbed through the ropes and took Jim to the corner. He sunk gratefully onto the stool. Truth was, concentrating on Joey’s moves took his mind off his own body and position and this was a problem for his orientation. Gus handed him a cup of water and he drank.
“You were right Gus. The kid’s going to be good. He’s got that stability and something else.”
“Discipline?”
“Yep. I trust him.” Jim turned his head, checking that the beating of the bag continued behind them. “I just wanted to tire him a bit before I give him full reign. “Truth is, I’m not sure I’m going to stay on my feet when he delivers.”
“Too strong?”
“Not normally, but …” Jim shook his head. “Gus, I’m not crying poor here, but when you can’t see, keeping track of which way is up, is sometimes the hardest thing.”
“How about you stand with your back to the ropes?”
It went against the grain, against everything it had meant to be a boxer, but Jim had to remind himself, he was not a boxer anymore and never would be again. Even the US Boxing rulebook was 100% clear on that. No one with less than 20/20 vision was ever allowed in a ring, amateur or pro. He was just helping out an old man and a kid, and if he could do that better with a set of ropes at his back he would. He nodded in defeat, “Yeah, I could do that. Let’s do it.”
Gus patted him on the back. “I’ll go get him.”
The floor bounced as Joey climbed back into the ring. Jim smiled, “Come on Kid, let’s see what you got.”
The kid was in the showers. Gus was unwinding the laces of Jim's gloves. They were both quiet. It had been both easier and harder than Jim thought. It didn’t hurt. He still had that iron gut he’d been famous for. But no matter that he called for it, no matter that he knew what to expect, the moment of impact was chilling. He’d had Joey do just under half a dozen throws and the last one that the kid threw was good. Very good. Despite the ropes, Jim had tipped forward, his head spun and in trying to right himself too quickly he was over, landing heavily on his knees.
“You okay, you okay?” The panic in the kid’s voice died down as Jim put his hand in the air.
“No problem, you did good kid.”
And Gus had been there, helping him to his feet.
The next time Jim came in Gus stopped him before he had gotten even a few feet in the door. “Jim, we got a new treadmill, here, wanna check it out?”
“Sure. Same spot?”
“Next to it, I won’t chuck old Bessie ‘til we know you like this one better.”
Jim stepped up, the running tread under his feet gave way a little, cushioning his tread. He smiled, it felt very comfortable.
Jim hesitated, he’d stopped here, on the way home several times. But overcoming the discomfort of going somewhere new, took effort and he had shied away from it before. He gritted his teeth and turned Hank. “Door, Hank, let’s find the door.”
Hank turned to the right and started forward, Jim slowed him as he heard a door open and the sounds of a gym emanated for a moment. Hank stopped and a man’s steps could be heard coming lightly down the stairs. He brushed past Jim and began jogging down the sidewalk. Definitely the right place. Jim motioned Hank forward and they ascended the stairs.
Walking into the foyer Jim listened carefully, he could hear the thumping of bags, and someone skipping rope but no indication of a reception. That was no surprise, the sort of places Jim used to go never had anything as fancy as a reception and really even now, that wasn't the sort of place he was looking for. He heard a cough somewhere to his right and turned. “Excuse me?”
“What can I do for you?” a gruff voice answered; smoker, somewhere between thirty and sixty.
“I’m looking for whoever runs this place.”
“’You a cop?”
Jim held the smile back; that was a turn around, “I’m not here on business. I’m looking for a place I might be able to work out a little sometimes. ‘You in charge?”
“Yeah, name’s Gus.” The man had moved silently and now spoke directly in front of Jim.
Jim held out his hand, “Jim Dunbar.” The shake was firm, dry, calloused like a boxer.
“We don’t have any of those fancy weight machines or anything here. It’s a boxing gym.”
“Yeah, I know.” Jim licked his lips.
“What sort of work out you looking for?”
“Well, actually I’m not sure. Those modern gym’s…” He shook his head, he’d never felt comfortable in those, even when he could see. “they’re not my thing. I wondered if I could use a bag, maybe somewhere to skip rope.” He indicated Hank. “Running in the park, it’s not working out and I need to find a way to keep fit.”
“Well, I do have one treadmill, you could start there. Ready to go now?”
“Sure, yes.” He patted his bag, where he carried sweats and a towel.
“Alright, I’ll show you the change room, you have a run and then if you think this might work for you, I’ll take you on a full tour.”
“Thanks.”
The fellow moved off in front of him, gym shoes squeaking on the wooden floor and Jim motioned Hank forward.
Gus gave Jim a locker space near the door, “When you come back there might be a bunch of kids here, they’re rowdy but good kids, you got any valuables, lock them in here.”
The man took Jim’s hand and placed a key in it. “The treadmill is out this door and just on the left there. It’s old fashioned, no electronics, you walk the tread moves, you slow it slows. Just be careful if you get up some momentum it can take a while to slow down. If you need me just call out, this place has terrible acoustics and I’ll hear you from anywhere.”
“Thanks.” Jim gave him a smile. He changed, locked his suit, badge and bag in the locker and took up the harness again.
He settled Hank next to the treadmill and climbed up. It was a simple tread roll with a border, and a metal rail around. Very basic. Here goes, he thought and began to walk slowly…
An hour later Jim slowed down. It took a long time for the old treadmill to lose the momentum but slowly it got to a jog, a walk and was close to a stop, Jim hesitated, it hadn’t stopped fully and he wasn't keep to step off until it did.
“Shouldn’t be too long, son, as I said she’s an old maid.” The old man stood next to the treadmill on Jim's right. “Here, I think you might want a hand.” He took Jim's arm and held it steady as Jim stepped off the machine to the floor.
“Thanks.” In fact Jim was happy for the grip, standing on the still floor felt a little like a rolling ocean for a moment. His breath was still coming quite hard and he realized he had rather completely lost his bearings. Still he felt good, the blood pumping through his muscles bringing a warmth and the sizzle of life.
“Was that good? You’re hiding a grin like a ten year old on his birthday.” The old man sounded proud and Jim nodded, a chuckle rising.
“That was good.”
“Well, I can give you that tour now, if you think you’ll want to come back again.”
“Great.” Jim slapped his thigh and Hank took his position. Jim dried his palms on the towel and threw it around his neck. “Let’s go.”
“Should we start at the front door?”
Jim was surprised. “Yeah, that’d be the best for me.”
Hank stepped out, following Gus. “The Gym is a big rectangle with two rings in the centre. From the door, the wall to the right has mats and mirrors, and then the nook where your treadmill is.” Gus waited while Jim found the front door, stood as if he were coming in and then turned to the right – his hand indicating to Hank where he should lead. Hank stopped at the mats and Jim gave them a kick and skirted around. “They’re okay to walk on, we’re not precious around here.” Jim nodded and continued.
“Ah, you’re at the treadmill now, it’s to your left there and then in a bit we have the door to the change rooms.”
Jim followed Gus in, “This the one I used tonight?” Gus nodded. “In here, we got showers in the middle in a block, and lockers and bench around the walls. Most of my kids have their own lockers, very few drop ins here.” At that word a heard of young men trampled into the locker rooms, the sound of laughter, ribbing and a few whacks echoed off the walls.
“The bathroom is at the back.” Gus walked around as he spoke and Hank followed.
“Outa my way boys.” Gus spoke up loudly over the youthful tumult.
“Oh sorry, Gus, didn’t see you there, who you got with you?”
Then a drop in the rowdy noise. Jim imagined a dozen faces looking at him, taking in Hank by his side, he plastered a neutral expression on his face.
“I’m Jim.”
“Cool, Sir. Nice dog.”
“Yeah , yeah, let us through, Mickey, we have no desire to hold you up from hitting the shower.”
“Oh, Mr. G. you saying I smell?”
Mickey was obviously the leader, the group of boys moved around Jim and Hank and behind him into showers and bathrooms. “They’re good kids, once you get to know them. Let’s get out of here and see the rest of my gym.”
Gus walked Jim around the room, past a stand of punching bags, practice mats, the rings. He talked the whole time, filling Jim in on the equipment, some of the people using bits and pieces and stopped at a reception desk on the left of the front door.
“So that’s the grand tour.”
“Thanks, Gus, I appreciate it.” Jim had picked up his bag as they left the locker room, he figured he was close enough home to wait for his shower rather than brave a room full of exuberant teenagers. He pulled his wallet from his pocket. “What do I owe you for tonight?”
“Ten dollars for casual, but if you decide to take out a membership in the next couple of weeks I’ll take what you’ve paid off. Our membership is $200 a year.”
“Sounds like a good deal to me.” Jim handed over ten dollars. I’ll be back to meet with old Bessie again, you open tomorrow?”
“Every night, but Christmas.”
Jim held out his hand. “Thank you Gus, I’m glad I found you.”
Walking home Jim found himself whistling. In the elevator he laughed. He couldn’t remember a time since being blinded that he’d walked home whistling. He was pretty sure he’d feel the exercise in the morning but it felt good now, and Gus’s Gym, it was somewhere he thought he could feel at home in - eventually.
~
Saturday, a week and a half after he’d first entered, Jim stepped in and headed to the treadmill as if he’d been doing this for a year. “Oh, Jim, I’ve someone I’d like you to meet.” Gus called out from reception.
Jim turned and walked over.
“This is Joey….Shake hands Joey.”
Jim held out his hand and it was taken in a strong hand but the shake was weak, uncertain. “Nice to meet’cha.”
“Nice to meet you too, I’m Jim.”
“Joey is one of my protégé’s.”
“Aw, Gus.” A strong southern accent came forth and Jim got the image of the kid scraping his foot along the ground.
“You in a hurry tonight?”
“Me, no. Just going to do a few miles, maybe hit the bag for a bit. What’s up?”
“Joey, go get started, I’ll be there in a minute.”
Gus walked up beside Jim, “Walk with me a moment?”
Jim joined him as he started a round of the room. There was clearly something on his mind and Jim gave him the time to sort it out before he spoke.
“I’d like you to have a look at Joey’s style Jim, I know you had some successes early in the ring, I take it you were about Joey’s age when you started?”
“How old is Joey?”
“He’s sixteen.”
“Yeah, perhaps a little younger but, I don’t…”
“Just hear me out for a moment.”
Jim closed his mouth and continued to walk beside Gus, Hank’s nails clicking on the floor, the sound of a spar coming from the centre ring, men skipping in unison on his left and the repetitive sound of a man on a spring ball ahead.
“Thing is Joey’s a good kid. But he’s got this idea that cops are all bad. Seems his father got put away when he was young and he had a run in or two. So naturally Joey blames the cops for all the wrong in the world.” Jim nodded, he’d had similar thoughts as a kid. But growing up, he’d realized he had a choice about which side of that blue line he’d stand, and since making it he’d never looked back. He had a couple of brothers who were probably on the other side. But he’d made sure he never found out enough to compromise his own integrity. Hard thing to do.
“Where do I come in?”
“Joey needs a sparring partner and I was wondering if you would like to, you know, put on the gloves again?”
“I never told you I boxed.”
“So, I got my friend to look you up, you know, I had to make sure you weren’t coming in here under cover when you first arrived.”
Jim’s face showed he thought the idea ludicrous and his words were sarcastic if light. “Gus, I realize now, I’ve never told you this, I thought the guide dog was enough of a clue, but I’m blind. My boxing days are done.”
It was Gus’ turn to laugh, “No shit batman. I don’t mean full on in the ring, just sort of give him some tips, and also, I’m not sure if you could tell, but this kid is big. I don’t have anyone here who’s tough enough to hit him so he can feel it. I’d do it, but I’m pushing seventy and I don’t have much strength behind my punch anymore.”
“What about all the kids you got hanging around, surely there’s a big one in that lot?”
“I looked, there’s no one who I trust. See Joey, he needs someone who will be an example of discipline, someone who can give him as good as he can get. I can see you’ve lost condition.” Gus stopped talking for a moment. “I’d say about a year and half right? But you’ve got brawn, and I think it would be good for both of you.”
Jim was impressed that Gus could tell just by looking at him, that he’d been out of commission for a year and half. But the idea was crazy.
“All very well for young Joey here, Gus, but I lost my sight from a head injury, there’s no way I’d put myself in front of a boxer.”
“I’m not suggesting he hit you Jim, although if we had a below shoulder rule you might be okay.”
Jim shook his head. “Gus, I can’t see, I can’t dodge. The chances of me landing one are zero.”
“Can you at least do some training with him? Ropes, cannon ball? He starts to like you, I let it slip you’re a cop and bingo he realizes they’re not all bad and turns from a life of crime to boxing. I got hopes for the golden gloves for this boy.”
Jim shook his head smiling, “You are nuts. Let me meet him but you better go find another thug he can hit.”
~
Gus watched while the kid worked a bag. Jim stood by him and listened.
Gus gave him a few pointers and was called away. “Jim, you wait here for me? I’ll be back in a minute and you can get back to the maid.”
“Sure.”
He listened, shaking his head. The kid’s rhythm was out. “Joey, your rhythm is out. You need to hit it regularly. You know what I mean?”
“Like this?” Joey asked and hit the bag harder.
Jim listened to the slap, whack again.
“No.You need to find your rythm,” Jim stepped up. “Hank, stay.” He reached for the bag, “Stand back a minute, Joey, where you can see what I'm doing." Jim went to move his wedding ring, realized he didn’t wear it anymore and shook his head. He started at the bag slowly, right hand first, then left, then built up some speed and alternated eight left, eight right, four left, four right, left right left right.
He stopped, stepped back and took Hank’s harness again. “See rhythm?”
“Yeah, but how…?”
Jim chewed his lip for a second. “What sort of music do you like?”
“Country.”
Jim smiled, “Okay, any of those songs fast?”
“Sure.”
“Got any here, with headphones?”
“Sure.”
“Go get it.”
The kid was back in a minute. “Put it on, and then strike with the music.”
Jim stood back with Hank.
The kid started up again, all over the place to start with, the tinny music coming from his headphones bore no resemblance to music for Jim. But then when the second track came on there was a change. The pounding evened out, the speed picked up a little.
“He’s even picking up his feet a little now.” Gus’ voice was quiet in his ear. Jim nodded and turned his ear toward the floor. Yes he could hear it, now that Gus had mentioned it. Good, a boxer with lead feet was as good as dead in the ring.
“I’m, off to Bessie.”
“Thanks, Jim.”
~
Jim finished late that night, the kids were all gone and as he stepped off the tread mill, stretching to ease his muscles Gus called out to him. “Jim, I’m about to close up and have a drink, wanna join me?”
“And waste all this work I’ve just done?”
“Ah, I got a lightie if that helps.”
“Sure.”
Hank ambled up and attached himself to Jim's leg. Jim reached for the harness. “Everyone gone?”
“Yeah, it’s Friday night, they’ve all got hot dates, or nightclubs to go to.”
Jim found a cold bottle being pressed into his hand. He drank gratefully.
“So, how come you’re not out on the prowl? Married?” Gus prodded.
“Separated. When my wife got a promotion to LA and I didn’t want to leave my squad, we realized our jobs mean more to us than each other. Tends to kill the marriage.”
“Not hunting again?”
“Too hard.” Jim smiled. “So far, being single has very few drawbacks. Hey, since no one’s here, would you mind if I took a couple of spins around the room, I’d rather not have to drag Hank along every time I visit but with the kids always here, I haven’t been able to scope it.”
“Sure, you need a hand?”
“No, just a bit of time.” Jim retrieved his gym bag and took out his white cane. He settled Hank next to Gus and started back at the door.
Gus watched fascinated as Jim traced every nook and cranny, following the walls, counting steps between equipment. He went over a few areas twice and then put the cane away.
When he finished he walked unerringly back to the deck chairs Gus had set up next to reception.
Gus was impressed. “That do it?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know this place now?”
“Pretty much. I’ve been coming here a couple of weeks too, so that makes it easier.” He was comfortable with Gus but he preferred conversation that wasn’t about him. “How’s Joey going?”
“Good, he took your advice to heart and now I have to fight Kenny Rogers for attention.”
Jim winced, “Sorry.”
“No, it’s good. I tell you, he’s got something that kid, not sure what it is but I see him going places.”
“Stability.”
“Stability?”
“Yeah, he’s calm inside. That’s a good thing for a boxer, means he won’t get sacred and put off by the other guy’s show and also that he won’t be fooling himself when he get’s in the ring. The best of them have it.”
Gus nodded and then looked at Jim. “You’re right. I couldn’t work it our, but you’re right.”
They drank in the quiet for a while.
“He’s coming in tomorrow. I want to teach him a low drive.”
“Can you take it?” Jim sounded concerned. Teaching a low drive usually meant the trainer stood in place of the opponent and took the attempted punches; it was the only way of knowing where the newbie was aiming and how much power he was using. But it took someone who was solid. Jim had no idea how strong Gus was.
“I weigh about 105 pounds, Jim, of course I can’t. But I don’t have anyone else who understands what’s required. So I’ll take it.”
Jim turned and gave him a sour look. “What time?”
“7am”
“My rules.”
“Totally.”
“Expensive beer.” Jim smiled to take the bite from his words and called Hank. He headed home, thinking about the rules he would need to set up to get through the training. The biggest problem was balance. Losing his sight meant he had no vestibular orbital reflexes and could be unbalanced easily. He wouldn’t break landing on his ass but it wouldn’t help the kid learn and he hated looking stupid.
~
Gus had taken Joey aside and brought it home. “This man was runner up in the ‘96 Golden Gloves. That was the best year for boxing in the whole decade. Which, in my books, means he was as good as the best in that class today. So he’s got a lot to teach you.”
“I know, I seen him on the bags. And he’s pretty fit for an old bloke.”
Gus had to laugh, to him, Jim was barely more than a kid and this big boy in front of him was a baby.
“Now he’s only been blind a little while, and he never thought he’d put on gloves again so you got to give him no cause at all to worry.”
They watched as Jim walked confidently to the ring and climbed in. Hank had been left at home. Jim didn’t think it would be a good idea for Hank to see him being hit by someone. “I know he looks almost normal and wanders around here like he can see, but he can’t, so no fooling around at all, or we’ll lose him.”
“But he’s gonna expect me to hit him right?”
“Sure, you do it when he says to do it, but he’s teaching you a specific technique right now, no surprises, and never ever anything higher than the shoulder.”
Joey nodded, his eyes serious as he watched Jim.
Jim and Joey stood in the ring. The gym was quiet, as a place for kids to hang out it normally didn’t open early on a Saturday. Gus stood a pace or two back, watching, ready to step in if needed. Jim had explained the balance issue and had been adamant that if one punch landed above his chest, by mistake or otherwise he was out of there.
“Alright, Joey, first I’ll show you the move, in slow motion and with no force so you can see it. Then we swap and you do the same to me. We work back and forth until you have it, then we talk about doing it with some weight behind it.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Alright come here.” Jim waved him in with a gloved hand, he reached out and ran his gloves over the boy in front of him. He got the height of his shoulders, the length of his arm, at his waist he frowned. “Wait, I need to see more.” He held out his left hand to Gus, “Gus, I need this hand for a moment.”
Gus unlaced the red glove and pulled it off. Jim smiled across at the kid in front of him, “Don’t take this the wrong way, normally a fighter will know where to hit by looking...”
Jim ran his hand lightly over the boy’s midrift, located his ribs, measured the width from navel to his side. He held his hand out to Gus again. “Alright Gus, let’s hope I can remember that so this boy’s not going home with sore ribs.”
Joey started to laugh ‘til he saw Gus’ and Jim’s faces.
“I’ll make sure I know what I’m doing before I hit you hard, but, you’re going to have to learn how to take a punch as well as give one. If I missed and hit one of these lower ribs, it’d be bruised for a while.”
“Broken not bruised” Gus mimed at Joey clear as a bell so he understood. Joey turned and gave Jim his full attention.
~
Fifteen minutes later Jim had his technique back down pat. “Before we swap, I think you should get an idea what one of these really feels like so you aren’t tempted to hit for real before I’m ready. What do you say?”
“Sure. No probl-“
Woof, the air flew out of Joey’s lungs, he bent over double and Jim caught him before he fell to the floor. “Joey? You okay?” Jim didn’t sound worried, he knew what he was doing. The kid would be winded but not much else.
“Yeah.” He wheezed. “I wasn't ready.”
Gus’ chuckled from the sidelines. “You like to do that to Henley next week?”
A wide grin spread across Joey’s face. “Sure would.” He looked to Jim as he stood upright again, “You think I could learn that, Sir?”
“Let’s see what you got. I’ll tell you at the end.”
Jim showed Joey exactly where to land his punch, he got Gus up close to critique and make sure they were not training any bad habits like bent wrists or incorrect posture into the move. “Alright, now I know I surprised you before but I don’t want you doing that to me, deal?”
“Yes, Sir, no surprises.”
Jim planted his feet firmly and held his muscles tight. “Go.”
The throw was off, it glanced off a lower rib. “Too high, go again.”
“Good. Again.”
Five minutes of that and Jim felt Joey had the spot. “I need five minutes, go hit a bag ‘til I say stop. Then we’ll come back and this time we’ll get some weight behind it.”
“You okay? You wanna go down?” Gus asked from the ropes, concerned because Jim had said he needed five.
“No, But I need a seat for a minute.”
Gus climbed through the ropes and took Jim to the corner. He sunk gratefully onto the stool. Truth was, concentrating on Joey’s moves took his mind off his own body and position and this was a problem for his orientation. Gus handed him a cup of water and he drank.
“You were right Gus. The kid’s going to be good. He’s got that stability and something else.”
“Discipline?”
“Yep. I trust him.” Jim turned his head, checking that the beating of the bag continued behind them. “I just wanted to tire him a bit before I give him full reign. “Truth is, I’m not sure I’m going to stay on my feet when he delivers.”
“Too strong?”
“Not normally, but …” Jim shook his head. “Gus, I’m not crying poor here, but when you can’t see, keeping track of which way is up, is sometimes the hardest thing.”
“How about you stand with your back to the ropes?”
It went against the grain, against everything it had meant to be a boxer, but Jim had to remind himself, he was not a boxer anymore and never would be again. Even the US Boxing rulebook was 100% clear on that. No one with less than 20/20 vision was ever allowed in a ring, amateur or pro. He was just helping out an old man and a kid, and if he could do that better with a set of ropes at his back he would. He nodded in defeat, “Yeah, I could do that. Let’s do it.”
Gus patted him on the back. “I’ll go get him.”
The floor bounced as Joey climbed back into the ring. Jim smiled, “Come on Kid, let’s see what you got.”
~
The kid was in the showers. Gus was unwinding the laces of Jim's gloves. They were both quiet. It had been both easier and harder than Jim thought. It didn’t hurt. He still had that iron gut he’d been famous for. But no matter that he called for it, no matter that he knew what to expect, the moment of impact was chilling. He’d had Joey do just under half a dozen throws and the last one that the kid threw was good. Very good. Despite the ropes, Jim had tipped forward, his head spun and in trying to right himself too quickly he was over, landing heavily on his knees.
“You okay, you okay?” The panic in the kid’s voice died down as Jim put his hand in the air.
“No problem, you did good kid.”
And Gus had been there, helping him to his feet.
~
The next time Jim came in Gus stopped him before he had gotten even a few feet in the door. “Jim, we got a new treadmill, here, wanna check it out?”
“Sure. Same spot?”
“Next to it, I won’t chuck old Bessie ‘til we know you like this one better.”
Jim stepped up, the running tread under his feet gave way a little, cushioning his tread. He smiled, it felt very comfortable.
~finis~