Story board

There were only a few recreational boxers, guys that Ken would work out during their lunch break from their desks in the cube prairies. Learning how to fight made them feel confident when they had to face the 'Terry Tate's' of the world. And the gym was a place where you could talk guy stuff without worrying about anyone adding -ist to what they call you.

Ken saw me come in, and started waving me back to his office, which was in the back of the gym. There was a window that gave him a panoramic view of the gym.

"Yeah, yeah, I got 'im right here," he said as he took the phone down from his ear and covered the mouth piece. "this isn't a title fight, they want to fight at 160, but it is still 6 figures." He spoke into the phone. "Carl, my guy says he is strong enough to handle the weight, you can talk to him yourself."

I took the phone. The matchmaker, Carl Moretti was a guy who gave me a couple of shots back east before I left Detroit. The circumstances weren't too different from what they are now, calling me after other fighter's had fell out of fights at the last second and he was in a scramble to save a show. He called me, and I went in a 'spoiled' a couple of prospects records. I guess that made me a 'fringe prospect', and as long as I kept winning out in the cornfields and the barnyards in the mid west, I would stay on his 'in case of emergency list'. And I think that he actually liked me a little.

Our conversation would be fairly brief. He would ask if I had been training, and that I was going to come to fight. I would tell him that I appreciate that he is giving me this chance on the card.

"They wanted to get a walk over guy, something to keep busy. I told them that they are going to have to get a live opponent if they wanted the exposure, so I fought for you. Don't let me down."

"You don't have to worry about that. I am going to bring mine and I will come and get his."

"Good. Sign and fax me back the contract and Ken has all the details. We will be all set."

I handed the phone back to Ken.

"I am going to go change up and get to work. Is K.O. coming in soon? I want to get in some pad work for sure."

"She'll be in shortly," he replied as he grabbed the contract out of the incoming fax tray. "Sign the contract and we are done with the hard part."

So I did, and that was done. Went to the locker room and got ready to go to work.
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I had just finished my last round on the 'stationary heavy bag'. It has an adjustable pad and a water base. I like use it because when you hit it right, it 'hops' and you can reset your feet, simulating an opponent. The old fashioned heavy bags swinging from the beam, I use to get the timing on my 'heavy artillery'.

My back was to the door when it swung open, with a squealing figure coming thru. It was Beth, Ken's wife. I called her 'K.O. Becky', because she reminded me of Jeff Chandler's old manager, 'K.O. Becky O'Neill. In fact, the whole set up reminded me of what they had out in Philly, even if it was a little before my time.

Beth came straight towards me arms outstretch to grab me up in a great big hug. "Ooh, I am soo happy for you!"

"Okay, I know you are," I told her, leaning over from her embrace. "But I don't want to lose this round! Hug me during the break!" She released her embrace.

"I will be ready myself for some pad work. We need to work one what going to work on this guy right away." She went back to the office to get her gear together.

Pushed out some jabs, stepping around the bag. I was excited. Someone has to hit the lottery in life. Maybe this was my number being drawn.