My last boxing coach, Frank Gilbert, told me in 2004 that I was too old to spar, and I think he was right. Teenage lightweights were knocking me around. From that point, although I remained active as a boxing coach and still trained, I have not sparred. I confine sparring and fighting to weaponry, where it seems the old fighter still retains some edge over his replacement.
In boxing big men seem to last longer; not huge men, just normal heavyweights. There is also the continual drama of aging small men starving to stay light enough to compete at the top levels, and then eventually sliding into trial horse status at a heavier weight. Back in 2002 when I was coaching for Ron Lygren he had been impressed with my skill sparring in the gym. He asked me to fight in the ‘masters division’ which means old guy division. At the time I was coaching for Ron and training at Loch Raven under Mister Frank. I asked Mister Frank about it. He was candid:
“You have a slim amateur background and are on the small side. In the masters it is a catch-weight situation. You would be fighting larger more experienced men—and, you would have to get a battery of tests just to qualify. You should devote your energy to becoming a better coach. We all have to hang up the gloves sometime.”
Recently I have been working with Craig [junior middleweight] on angles, defense, and position-based combinations. He is one of Frank Gilbert’s boxers. His work schedule only allows him to spar once a week at Loch Raven, and he really wants to up his game. He is also part of our stick-fighting team and the guys put on the gloves with him and he takes it easy. He is not, however, getting the movement he needs from these big men. Although I cannot take Craig’s power [I can’t even tolerate him punching my body when I’m wearing a chest protector.] I still have better movement and angles than he does—hell, it’s all I have.
We negotiated an experimental sparring session where we would dial the power all the way down and just tag each other. This still means you eat some nasty jabs. We were not going to be hitting hard enough to generate cuts and I was worried about me neck. So we went without headgear—to protect my neck. The neck is the biggest reason why small guys have trouble scaling up in boxing.
When I fought at 143 I had a block head. At 157 I could take a good shot. Into the 160s and I was getting rocked. At 171 [the heaviest I ever sparred in boxing] I noticed that head shots were having a shock effect at the base of my skull that they had not once had. Now, this past Sunday, at 187, 45 pounds north of my ideal boxing weight, I was ready to test this junior welterweight neck out.
Craig was a real gentleman and kept it light. We sparred for 20 minutes. I actually managed to hit him, but he was countering me with double jabs. Five days later, the shock to my neck of perhaps 30 double jabs still has my neck sore. That is not a surprise. What surprised me was when he tapped me on the jaw with light hooks the nerves beneath my ear lit up like they never had before. He could have easily dropped me.
What I have just described is the reason why it has traditionally been so easy for heavyweights to KO each other and why real big heavyweights never have real good chins. Every punch a person eats above the neck transfers force to the neck, through which all signals from the brain to the body travel. The more weight anchoring that neck to the ground via the feat, the more potential force is available to amplify the incoming punch. Sometimes it is as simple as walking into the jab and adding your weight. But the hooks that I was moving with, they bothered me when once they would not because my increased body weight now offers more passive resistance to the punch.
Hopefully I can get enough of the rust off to be able to give Craig some better work. It did feel good getting back out there again. Ironically enough, when I met my oldest son a few hours later he handed me a case of Red Stripe beer. I just laughed, “This is appropriate. I was just getting punched by a Jamaican, now I can drink his beer.”
Sometimes the brain disconnects from the reality of combat and the by-product of pain. The problem with pain is that means something is WRONG! Stubborn Heart, Strong Soul, Withering body. When you are young you don't expect it. Once you hit the 50.....it DISRESPECTS you! You are still a warrior; just an old one. I think they call that guy the COACH!
Thanks Doc. When my head falls off I'll bring it to you to reattachit could be your chance to assist Ben Carson.