Taking shots in the ring and on the page

It’s that time again. Fight night is fast approaching and I am sure

some of you are more than happy to know someone will soon be

attempting to knock my head off.

The last time I wrote a story about my pugilistic hobby, I got a

slew of readers asking me, you? Are you kidding? Why would you do

that?

For those of you who don’t follow local exhibition boxing (uh huh,

all three of you) I will give you a short run down. I train and

instruct boxing classes at LA Boxing in Costa Mesa. In the pursuit of

loftier goals, such as getting paid at least a token to put myself in

harm’s way, I periodically test my amateur abilities in the ring. It

is purely exhibition but it is good practice.

My first fight was nearly a year ago on April 13. My second was

July 20 and this upcoming bout on April 12, will be my third. I am

fighting a woman from Los Angeles, who is training to go

professional, so it should be a good match.

OK. Back to why I do this?

Of course there is the obvious, it is a good way to stay in shape,

it is challenging and allows me to vent some serious frustrations.

Nothing like punishing a heavy bag for six rounds after a long day at

work. My punches have gotten even harder since I became a columnist.

But why step in the ring? What about the violence? The fact that

you are trying to hurt somebody? Why would you willingly subject

yourself to physical abuse, people ask?

To me, boxing does not represent violence. No, I have not had one

too many hits to the head. Allow me to explain. Yes, hitting someone

is inherently brutal but the sport itself, the strategy, the

discipline, the determination and strength required to compete,

symbolize life.

It also epitomizes the type of person my mom raised me to be. The

type who strives to shoot straight, never back down from a challenge

and keep my feet firmly planted on the ground -- or the mat, as

circumstance may have it.

(Funny thing is, she can’t stand to watch me fight.)

In boxing there is always someone gunning for you. The goal is to

avoid their attacks and make strides for yourself. You cannot simply

do that by stepping into the ring unprepared. You have to work for

it.

You have to run two miles a day. You have to give up ice cream,

cookies and candy. You must sacrifice time in front of the television

to hit hand pads, jump rope, work on the speed bag, hit the

double-end ball and spar.

A boxer must know and understand frequent plans of attack and

learn the best way to defend them. A boxer must also come to terms

with their own strengths and weaknesses and adjust their game plan

accordingly.

If you do not do these things, you will not succeed. And that is

just to get ready for the challenge. The actual fight itself is where

it really becomes representative of life.

Boxing is also quite similar to the other love of my life, my

“Thinking Allowed” gig.

Nobody can go into boxing -- or column writing -- thinking they

are never going to get hit. You will, and it will sting. But when it

happens, you learn to shake it off. If the shot happens to buckle

your knees you step back, recover and continue the fight.

In both arenas, you learn to take your knocks. You learn you are

not invincible. When you make a mistake and step directly into your

opponents left hook, you certainly pay for it. If you drop your hands

because you get too cocky, you pay for it. Lose your focus and your

head will ring.

My opponents -- and critics -- have and will continue to land some

key shots. I have had black eyes, cut lips and bruised ribs. I have

plenty of e-mails and voicemails taking jabs at me, many of which

shoot below the belt. But I can take it. Every time an opponent lands

a punishing shot, I learn -- albeit the hard way -- where I need to

improve.

And that perhaps, is the best part of boxing: You realize your

drive to succeed. You have tangible proof of your strength when

tested. During the last 20 seconds of the final rounds, your arms

feel like they are going to fall off but you must keep throwing those

combinations. Your legs feel wobbly but you must continue to dance

and slip.

My column has not tested me in such a dramatic fashion, nor do I

feel I am fighting a battle with the words I write. But I do feel a

sense of accomplishment when I get reader’s responses, both

supportive and critical. That is my tangible proof that I have one of

the best jobs in the world. That I am doing what I love and that

people are, at the very least, reading and hopefully, thinking.

Of course, the object is never to hit the mat. But sometimes in

boxing, as in life, you must -- for your own good. And if you taste

the mat too many times, perhaps you should change your stance -- or

at least take up a no-contact activity.

* LOLITA HARPER writes columns Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays

and covers culture and the arts. She may be reached at (949) 574-4275

or by e-mail at lolita.harper@latimes.com.