The Glowing Edge » Boxing

A Boxing Footwork Epiphany

Lisa Creech Bledsoe — Thu, 18 Mar 2010 14:48:53 +0000

You know how sometimes — just once in a great while — everything you’ve worked so hard for suddenly comes together in a beautiful, quiet epiphany?

I had one of the best boxing nights ever last night.

The boxing team had finished warm-ups and we were slugging our way through six rounds of independent shadowboxing. Round after round of shadowboxing is kind of like practicing scales on the piano for an hour; there are times when you (and everyone who has to listen to you) think it will never, never, never end. The sameness becomes oppressive and you feel like you aren’t learning anything, only going through the motions of the old stuff until you’re half batty.

But it pays off, all that practice.

Last night I was in round four, or five, or seventy million of shadowboxing when I suddenly realized that I was dancing.

I know, weird.

But I promise you, I don’t have a graceful bone in my body. I have trouble not snickering when my coach tells me (with a patient sigh) to be “light on my feet,” balanced; perfectly poised between my lead and back foot, able to slip easily in any direction in that peculiar fashion native to the ring and essential to boxing.

I lurch. I stumble, trudge, and and haul my body through space in the most ungainly fashion.

But I didn’t last night. My brain was far, far away when suddenly the Ghost of Fabulousness whispered in my ear. Lightly, so as not to scare the shit out of me. You’re dancing.

I considered this. There I was, balanced lightly between my lead and rear foot. On my toes. Sliding effortlessly, never overbalanced. That easy bobbing, swaying, dip and weave unfolding gracefully in every direction.

For the first time in memory, I loathed the bell that would end it.

It wasn’t a sparring night, so I didn’t get to test my work in the real boxing arena. But when the trainer put us on the heavy bags I was filled with power. I punched through. I moved with grace. I was unstoppable.

Unstoppable.

Thank God for these moments. They are the stuff of hope.

Image by zarajay

Three-Way Death Match in the Ring

Lisa Creech Bledsoe — Tue, 16 Feb 2010 13:10:28 +0000

We were training hard and had each had several rounds of sparring already. I had just finished a round in the ring and was tired, slow, and at the end of my strength when the coach called someone else’s name and I rolled under the ropes and out of the ring with a sigh of relief.

“Wait,” the trainer called in my direction, as he ducked into the ring. I turned and peered up at him. “Where you going?” he asked, grinning broadly.

“Toward the shower quickly?” I asked hopefully, sweat dripping off my headgear onto the canvas.

“I didn’t send you out,” he continued, “Get in here.” The two guys in the ring with him looked at each other and stared at me.

One of them began to smile; he was the freshest of all of us. “Three-way death match!” he hollered, and I laughed.

“The three of us against you, Coach?” I inquired politely, like a lady at tea. One lump or three?

“You better hope not,” he said, shaking his head, “You people would get hurt. Just get in here and stick close.” He held down the ropes and I rolled back in, riding on fumes and now, a spurt of interest.

Our trainer Nas promptly turned toward the other two guys and set them to work sparring each other. But this time he was in the ring, right in their space, calling combinations, barking commands, and critiquing form as they went. We both worked to stay out of the way, but I found my excitement rising. You don’t often stand right in the ring with a trainer and two men boxing; it’s rather like watching a basketball game from the center of the paint during a furious scramble for the shot.

He pushed them on while I watched and paced them, trying to match footwork and throwing a few shadow combinations as Nas called them. The bell rang to mark the end of the round but no one received permission to stop. The boys circled, blocked, and threw punches on command. Nas kept a constant stream of instruction running, adding a periodic shove to tilt someone back into form, or a nudge to remind someone to keep their elbow in tight to the ribcage.

Mid-round he pulled one of the guys back and pressed me forward and I was suddenly at the center of our tight, quickly moving knot. “One, one, left hook,” he called, “Two, three, two.” And I threw them, doing my best to fire my shots as soon as the words left his mouth.

My opponent was tired, but still moving lightly on his feet. I quit registering the sound of the ring bells; I only heard our trainer’s voice as he put us through our paces. Everything became a blur of shots thrown and feet shuffling across the canvas. I circled out to let someone else work, then circled back in. Exhaustion became the baseline; we boxed anyway.

I began to sense Nas’s irritation with my performance; only about half my punches were landing. Then less than half. My young partner of the moment was doing incredibly well at blocking everything I threw.

“Snap ‘em off,” Nas called to me. “You’re gonna have to throw them faster.”

No, I thought irritably, You’re gonna have to send your requests in by telegraph, Joker; my partner here can translate your offensive calls into his defensive movements. Dammit, I added mentally, grinding my teeth against my mouthguard and throwing the hook to the head, hook to the body, both blocked.

For some boxers it takes years to be able to translate an opponent’s offense into your own defense faster than the speed of a punch. With deep fatigue and — I hate to admit it — age, it grows even more difficult. My two death-match partners were 21 and 26 years old. Once in a while I envy them their youth, speed, and power.

But most times I don’t care. I don’t care than my punches that night were blocked, slipped, evaded. I don’t care that the next day I had a bruise or three over my ribs because I failed to keep my elbows in tight. When you’re past the end of your strength and you’re still in the ring swinging, punching, and sweating, there’s a deep satisfaction that can’t be found any other way.

Oh, and regarding the next three-way death match at the end of a long boxing training session? Count me in.

Image by Stefan on Flickr

Chevelle Hallback vs Holly Holm in “Warrior Vengeance”

Lisa Creech Bledsoe — Wed, 10 Feb 2010 01:50:58 +0000

On March 26th Chevelle “Fists of Steel” Hallback (27-5-2), one of the world’s most powerful and athletic boxers, will meet Holly Holm (26-1-3) on Holm’s own turf in Albequerque, NM on the “Warrior Vengeance” card. Holm will be defending her WIBA Light Welterweight title in this rematch, promoted by Fresquez Productions.

“My first fight with Holly was one of my worst performances for date,” Chevelle admitted. “This time,” she noted, “ I have enough time to prepare for the altitude. I believe when I am in superb shape there is not one female fighter out there in my weight class or above my weight class that can beat me.”

Of Holly Holm’s three rematches, she has won two and battled a third to a draw, but these stats don’t intimidate Hallback. “I enjoy the role of the underdog. It makes me work harder and the victory that much sweeter.”

Holm is an incredibly disciplined, thinking, and tactical fighter where Hallback is about angles and pure punch power (which you can really see coming out in the training video above); Hallback has an astonishing knockout rate of more than 30%.

I’m also embedding a video of Hallback in an MMA cage fight with Melissa Vasquez — the fight lasts less than one minute and ends by TKO in a stunning display of hit power. THIS is the kind of intensity I’m expecting to see in Holm vs Hallback, and I believe it will go on for round after round.

I’m hopeful that Fresquez will once again offer this fight on PPV webcast; if so, it’s a fight you will not want to miss.

The Body Forgets, The Body Remembers

Lisa Creech Bledsoe — Sat, 06 Feb 2010 20:27:24 +0000

The first week in December I got a little overzealous about increasing my number of unassisted chin-ups and wrecked my shoulder. It’s an old injury and I’ve been through the re-healing process before, but this time one of the pro boxers in my gym suggested I come see her to help get it taken care of. I looked at her, baffled.

“I’m a physical therapist, you know,” she laughed.

Sometimes I forget that the boxers at the gym have jobs, families, lives. But the thought of a trained medical person who wouldn’t berate me for boxing and who might actually speed the healing process had tremendous appeal, and I found myself booking the appointment.

So for two months I stayed out of the ring and off the heavy bag and worked through an intense physical therapy program to heal my shoulder up as much as I could. I missed boxing horribly, and consoled myself with running the shame line at the “normal” gym and becoming fiercely competitve in everything cardio. Slightly depressed, I ate garbage and became nostalgic about push-ups, but by God, I ran. And threw sprints on the jump rope, and cranked up the elliptical machine.

By the time I could move my shoulder again without spikes of pain I felt like I had forgotten the ways of moving in the ring. I started standing in front of the mirror and sending out slow-motion jabs: is this how it works? Is this still right? Jabs seem like such a simple punch, but they are stunningly complex and there is a galaxy of difference between a good jab and a crap one. A good jab can save your ass in the ring, warding off your opponent’s punches or breaking up her combinations. They can measure distance, letting you know whether you’re in range or not. They deliver most of your messages, front your bombs, secure territory, and with power they can beat a tattoo of pain into someone’s face. You can’t think about your jab in the ring, it just has to be there, ready to fire. Boxing without a good jab is like swimming without arms and legs.

You gotta have a good jab, and I feared my body was forgetting mine.

My feet were forgetting, too. I stood balanced in my stance in the middle of the bedroom floor, and tried to recall how it felt to train on the tractor tire that sat on the loading dock behind the gym: rocking my weight quickly, lightly, back and forth between my feet to allow me to move with balance and speed.

I stood in the bedroom and looked down at my forgetful feet and sighed.

When I finally began to shadowbox again I knew my form — which is still a novice’s, even after nearly two years — had grown blurry, but there’s really no simple cure. There’s only the long, repetitive road of work ahead.

Last week I finally got back in the ring again. It was after team training — my first in more than two months. I had substituted legwork for all the training that directly hits the shoulders (mountain climbers, push-ups, burpees, etc.) and with that and the fact that I’d maintained my cardio, I realized I still had some energy left. Our trainer closed down the session and I looked around at my drenched and winded teammates. My shoulder felt okay: no spikes of pain. It wasn’t strong, but it didn’t feel injured any more.

“Anybody want to give me a couple of light, easy rounds in the ring?” I asked. “I’d really like to test out my shoulder. Nothing serious, though,” I added, knowing everyone else had worked much harder in training than I had.

A couple of them groaned and declined, heading for the showers. But one of the newer guys offered to stay. Because he’s new and doesn’t have much experience in the ring, I got permission from our trainer to spar, and we both geared up.

The gym had cleared out and it was late; the headlights on the cars headed out of the parking lot flashed through the windows. Someone had turned down the volume on the ever-present thump of hip-hop, making the bell that starts the rounds sound incredibly loud. I moved out to the center of the ring, shivering with anticipation and nerves. I was more flat-footed than light and balanced, but I was in the ring.

We had a satisfying five rounds. No one cornered, no one watched. He was too inexperienced to know how sloppy my form was, and my jab wasn’t so out of practice that he didn’t feel it. Like most newbies, he apologized once he began to land some power punches. They felt great. I was remembering. He kept his gloves in front of his face against my jab so I repeatedly hooked to his head: around the guard, straight to the ear. Connection. My shoulder held up. I began to feel exultant.

The next day I had a slight headache and my neck and shoulders were sore from the tension I’d carried in the ring. It sounds counter-intuitive, but you absolutely must relax when you box, just like you relax on the landing of a long fall, in order to transfer the shock through more of your body and allow the impact to flow on through without breaking anything. My body was reminding me of the patterns and necessities of boxing.

I pressed my fingers to the slightly bruised and tender bridge of my nose; I ate a healthy serving of punches from the newbie. Dude was quite promising, much better than I was when I began boxing. He had some power, too, as my nose was telling me. There was a tender spot on the underside of my jaw as well. I laughed; he’d fired quite a few uppercuts and at least one of them connected. Uppercuts! From a newbie.

I smiled, remembering.

Image by isabel bloedwater

Blows to the Head: How Boxing Changed My Mind

Lisa Creech Bledsoe — Mon, 01 Feb 2010 13:15:02 +0000

Last year I got a lovely email from a woman who, after greeting me politely and complimenting The Glowing Edge, mysteriously indicated that we might have some things in common. Intrigued, I clicked through and discovered Binnie Klein, a psychotherapist in New Haven, Connecticut, a Lecturer in the Department of Psychiatry at Yale University, host of a popular weekly music and interview show on WPKN radio, and… you guessed it, a boxing woman.

And since she was looking for even more things to accomplish, she’s just written a book about it.

Her book has just been published and my copy has arrived in the mail; expect a review from me (plus a chance to win a free copy of the book!) as soon as I’ve read it. Meanwhile, she and her publisher gave me permission to share this excerpt with you.

* * *

My coach John, a former middleweight state champ (aka “The Punisher”) was acutely aware that the men in the lives of his women boxers were not always supportive. Maybe that’s why he often asked what my gentle and peace-loving husband Scott thought about my boxing. Scott wasn’t the only one who was perplexed. It’s not like I was Maggie Fitzgerald in Million Dollar Baby; I wasn’t battling for recognition, and no one was standing in my way. People looked startled when they heard I was boxing. “You?” they’d say. Why are you so shocked? I wanted to ask, Is it because I’m older? Because I’m not trim and fit? Because I’m a woman? Somehow the aggression or intensity required to hit was understandable coming from a man. But with a woman, it was an anomaly. Why on earth would a woman want to punch? Or be hit?

Or was it something else altogether that people were thinking?

Maybe they don’t think my profession fits with the sport. You’re a therapist, they scold, as if reminding me that in choosing my career I was to be denied the physical plane altogether, a brain suspended in a tank like in a 1950s science fiction movie.

You’re not supposed to be aggressive, right? Aren’t you supposed to have it all analyzed and sublimated?

Yeah, right. There’s nothing like donning boxing gloves and headgear to make you face your own competitiveness, rage, and desire for dominance. My inclinations were shocking.

People ask me – do your patients know? Some do because I’ve referred them for boxing lessons to help them feel their own physical power and competence. Therapists fall into two groups: those who pretend that their patients know nothing personal about them, and struggle to keep it that way. They won’t give opinions, and they won’t tell you where they’re going on vacation. You’ve already guessed which group I’m in. The mystery therapists may be perfectly helpful therapists; they just don’t roll that way. But there are the inevitable clues emanating from their faces and their walls, whether their humor is direct, sardonic, or missing altogether; whether their offices are adorned with Klee prints and tasteful soapstone sculptures or a just a dusty row of crookedly-hung diplomas; whether they are outfitted in blazers and chinos or Flax clothing and chunky jewelry, and whether the car sitting in the therapist’s space is a Prius with a “Think Globally, Act Locally” sticker or a brand-new Saab with a ski rack.

Boxing is a bit like being part of a sexual minority – we take pleasure in something many people don’t understand, and feel compelled to judge us for – but sometimes when I talk about boxing, a surprising amount of people, both women and men, begin to imagine themselves with boxing gloves on. I recognize the look. Their innocent eyes widen. They start talking about how they did five minutes of kick-boxing in an aerobics class once. They’re intrigued…and then they’re curious…and then, in almost a whisper:

“So where did you say you do this?”

This excerpt was adapted from “Blows to the Head: How Boxing Changed My Mind” published by Suny Press, January 2010.

Gaultier Women Box in Corsets During Fashion Week

Lisa Creech Bledsoe — Tue, 26 Jan 2010 01:16:54 +0000

All I can do is stutter, and periodically I break into uncontrolled laughter that sounds like hooting. I did a quick screenshot so you can hoot too.

When I first saw the pictures from Jean Paul Gaultier’s runway show and realized he’d done the entire thing as a toughs and dominatrix-toned boxing… thing, I was floored. (This was also on the day I first learned about dead fly art; people come up with the weirdest things.)

But this is the guy who did Madonna’s pointy breast bra thingy, remember.

France24 quoted Gaultier as saying that the, er, point of the show was “to put up a fight against boredom and the general climate of gloom.”

Well, yeah. Obvious, once you think about it.

I actually love Gaultier fashions in all their shiny black wicked ways. I wouldn’t box in Gaultier fashion, however, and I can’t imagine what those women went through, trying to kickbox in corsets. Thank god they weren’t wearing Gaultier’s $485 Salome over-the-knee black boots with the 4″ spike heel.

Cause you know, one of those to the face could totally leave a mark.

Also, boxing rings have four ropes, not three. Sorry, couldn’t help myself. They totally should have contacted me about this in advance.

More House Gaultier Fashion Week pix here. Hilarious.

Top Pro Boxing Women to Watch in 2010

Lisa Creech Bledsoe — Wed, 06 Jan 2010 03:27:06 +0000

There are some incredibly powerful and exciting women to watch this year in boxing; I don’t know who will successfully find match-ups, but I hope most of them will. Look for especially dynamic possibilities among the Lightweights and Featherweights; the amount of explosive talent and sheer experience in those classes makes my head spin. Oh, and a note about the weights — I’ve tried to get people in their main weights, but they will move around a bit for fights; Ragozina (who just won a Heavyweight title, but otherwise fights in the Middleweight class) is a good example of that. Martin has also dominated two classes in the course of her career. And so on.

So, set your alerts. It’s gonna be a great year for women’s pro boxing.

Heavyweight
Carlette Ewell (13-7-0)
Laila Ali (24-0-0) – possibly retired

Middleweight
Christy Martin (49-5-3)
Natalia Ragozina (22-0-0)
Ijeoma Egbunine (16-2-0)

Welterweight
Holly Holm (26-1-3)
Jaime Clampitt (20-4-1)
Myriam Lamare (17-3-0)

Lightweight
Mia St. John (45-10-2)
Layla McCarter (32-13-5)
Chevelle Hallback (27-5-2)
Belinda Laracuente (24-25-3)
Ann Marie Saccurato (15-4-2)

Featherweight
Kelsey Jeffries (41-10-1)
Ina Menzer (25-0-0)
Jackie Nava (20-3-2)
Lisa Brown (16-4-3)
Alicia Ashley (14-9-1)
Maureen Shea (13-2-0)
Olive Gerula (12-10-2)
Melissa Hernandez (11-1-2)
Ana Julaton (6-1-1)

Bantamweight
Melinda Cooper (20-0-0)
Ana Maria Torres (20-3-2)
Kaleisha West (11-1-0)

Flyweight
Carina Moreno (21-2-0)
Holly Dunaway (22-8-1)
Ria Ramnarine (13-5-0)
Yesica Yolanda Bopp (11-0-0)

Image: geoftheref

Top Four Historic Moments in Women’s Boxing 2009

Lisa Creech Bledsoe — Thu, 31 Dec 2009 04:13:41 +0000

Christy Martin celebrates win #49

I only began blogging women’s boxing news midway through this year, but what a year it has been. In addition to seeing my first women’s fights on-site, online, and via pay-per-view, I’ve learned a tremendous amount about the undisciplined proliferation of boxing’s governing bodies, the heart of some of the world’s most dedicated female boxers, and the frustrating battle women fighters have to get fights and be seen.

Here’s my take on the top four historic moments in women’s boxing in 2009.

1. Women’s Boxing Admitted to 2012 Olympic Games
While big names like Pacqiao and Mayweather kept men’s boxing in the online conversation during 2009, women’s boxing finally got a search spike with the August 13th announcement from International Olympic Committee chair Jacques Rogge telling the world that the 2012 London Olympics will be the first to feature women competing in every single sport including the last holdout, boxing. Hopefully that landmark decision will hold tight, given massive shortfalls in budget funding for the program.

2. Women head a major MMA fight card for the first time in history
This is not boxing, but in my opinion it accomplished a great deal for women’s fight sports by bringing Gina “Conviction” Carano and Cris “Cyborg” Santos together as the first women in MMA history to headline a major MMA fight card. The fight was short but it delivered power, excitement, and a new reigning queen to women’s world-class MMA. It doesn’t matter that Dana White behaves like such an ass with regard to women’s fight sports, forward-thinking businesses like Strikeforce and CBS (who televised the fight) are on board.

3. Lucia Rijker becomes first woman inducted into the World Boxing Hall of Fame
Undefeated boxer Lucia Rijker (17-0, 14 KOs) achieved this singular honor partly be being a phenomenal boxer, and partly because she is one of the first to retire from the sport since women’s boxing began to win sanctioning. Let’s hope the other main boxing HOF, the International Boxing Hall of Fame, follows suit.

4. Christy Martin pushes record of wins to 49
Christy Martin (49-5-3) has been a mainstay of women’s boxing for more years and more fights than most other female boxers in the sport. In a world where it is so much harder for women to secure fights, Martin has continued to find, fight, and win them in unforgettable crowd-pleasing style. For win number 49, which was quietly conducted with almost no press coverage, Martin took the title despite a tenth-round broken hand. Although there was initial speculation that she would hang up the gloves, rumors in the women’s boxing world once more include the possibility of the push for a 50th win.

I encourage everyone who is interested in daily news about women’s boxing — both amateur and professional — to check in regularly with WBAN, the only major source of online news in this area that I’ve come across. I wish less of their content were hidden behind a paywall, but there are still plenty of stories freely accessible. Beyond that, it’s a hard task to find news, stories, or information online (or anywhere) that consistently tells the story of the women who box. Here’s to positive change in the years ahead.

Next up: a post on the top pro boxing women to watch in 2010…

Big Wonderful Note: Here’s a shout out to Tim Starks over at The Queensberry Rules, which is one of the best men’s pro boxing blogs out there. We spoke on Twitter about wrapping up the year in boxing, and he offered to run my women’s post in addition to some of the great posts he and his readership whipped up covering the men’s side of things. If you love boxing, you should get over toTQBR stat.

Natalia Ragozina Wins Eighth Title Belt

Lisa Creech Bledsoe — Mon, 21 Dec 2009 12:37:59 +0000

Saturday night Russia’s glamorous middleweight boxer Natalia Ragozina (22-0-0, 13 knockouts) took on heavyweight boxer Pamela “Grenade” London (6-4-1) in front of a supercharged home crowd of over 5,000 fans in Yekaterinburg, Russia.

33 years old and six feet tall, Ragozina — “The Russian Tsarina” — wowed her fans by facing an opponent 60 pounds heavier and still putting London on the canvas for the knockout victory in the eighth round.

It was a one-shot deal, this bout of a solid middleweight against a heavyweight; Ragozina wanted to take the Women’s International Boxing Federation (WIBF) heavyweight title but has no plans to move permanently out of her middleweight category.

With this win, Ragozina becomes the world’s most decorated female boxer.

Ana Julaton on Her Way to Becoming the Face of Women’s Boxing

Lisa Creech Bledsoe — Sat, 12 Dec 2009 13:01:27 +0000

While many of us were agonizing over the misfire of the Holm-Hernandez fight on December 4th, Ana “The Hurricane” Julaton (6-1-1) was battling her way toward her second world title in less than three months.

This woman’s jab is beautiful! Full extension, perfectly measured, amazing power. I watch her jab and I don’t regret a moment of the epic struggle to get my own jab in shape. Just seeing Donna Biggers’s face after the fight in the video above was a reminder of just how devastating this single punch — perfectly executed — can be.

In the December ‘09 title fight with Donna Biggers (19-9-1) that jab is what kept Julaton’s opponent at bay. I also saw lots of big, swinging overhand rights that took a toll as well, and every time I hear the sharp pop of one of Julaton’s devastating ribshots I wince in sympathy and hope my own hooks keep coming along.

While the World Boxing Council investigates the confusion around the Bad Blood scene of Melissa “The Hurican” Hernandez and Holly Holm, another “Hurricane” is taking the boxing world by storm. Julaton is taking a break for the holidays, but has her eyes on yet another world title.

This is a woman to watch.