The Glowing Edge

Tag: Bonnie Mann

  • Listening to Your Coach: The Mind-Body Connection in Boxing

    Listening to Your Coach: The Mind-Body Connection in Boxing

    Seventeen young men, most of the court-ordered to be there, are standing with me in lose rows in their boxing stance, guard up. Coach “One Bad Jab” Massey calls the shots.

    “Jab, jab, jab, squat. Jab, pivot…jab,” he calls, never raising voice overmuch, mixing up the timing of his commands, and watching us with an eagle eye. The shots are called slowly, with plenty of time in between for Coach Massey to walk among the rows with a boxing glove that is stuffed and taped to one end of a long shovel handle. These are standard tools in boxing gyms.

    The trick here is that if he jabs that thing in your face you DO. NOT. FLINCH. You don’t duck, you don’t do anything. Unless he shouts “Squat!” to the group, and then you better get low or risk having your head popped by his glove-on-a-stick.

    “I did NOT say ‘squat,’” Massey comments calmly to a young man who saw the glove coming and wrongly anticipated the coach’s command. “Give me 15 pushups.”

    The young man drops and the rest continue. This isn’t an exercise in jabs, or squats, or even overcoming the flinch reflex. They are lessons in listening.

    In fact, if you were to regularly watch the training sessions at Second Round, there would be plenty of days when you might think the coach was working harder at teaching the kids to listen than he is at making them sweat.

    And you’d be right.

    Why boxers need to develop an instinctive response to a coach’s voice

    There’s a lot of mental work that goes on when you’re in the ring. But then there are times when you’re too fatigued to work your strategy, or you’re under so much heavy fire you just can’t think, all you can do is survive. That’s one of your coach’s most critical jobs — to call the shots when you can’t do it any more. But it doesn’t begin there.

    1. Creating safety out of chaos

    Second Round held a sparring night for all of the new boxers in the gym recently. Once everyone was geared up and gathered around the ring apron, Massey climbed into the ring and called for everyone’s attention.

    Our kids are mostly there by court order. They have a lot of street tough in them. But even if they didn’t, most people come to a boxing gym expecting to “fight.” They have images of brawls, fistfights, and lots of anger and frustration coming out inside those ropes.

    Which is a big mistake, and the first one Massey points out.

    “What are we here to do?” he asks the kids, who are anxious and jittery, shuffling and bumping each other. But they think they know the answer.

    “Fight!” they tell him, and it comes out like a cheer.

    “No,” he responds, shaking his head. “We’re here to box.” He doesn’t elaborate, but his point will be illustrated soon, when they see how easily a more experienced boxer will evade their wild, messy, craziness in the ring, and return smart, quick, stinging punches as they flail around.

    “I have three commands for you to remember tonight,” he continues. “You’ll hear them from your ref at the beginning of your match, and you’ll hear them during your rounds. If you forget everything else while you’re in this ring, I want you to remember these three words.” He pauses to make sure he has their attention.

    “The three commands are ‘box,’ ‘break,’ and ‘stop.’” He fires off each word like a rifle shot, and they pop against the cinderblocks and echo back.

    He explains, but I know the real understanding won’t come until much later in their training. Because as they brawl their messy way through those initial rounds, these three commands help put the first, rough boundaries on what they are trying to learn. They keep the kids safe in a very chaotic place.

    If you can hear nothing else (and you can’t hear much) during the war of your first rounds, you hear those words, and respond. And that’s where a powerful relationship with a great coach begins.

    2. Stopping a new boxer’s tendency to overthink

    I’m a thinker. I have a bachelor’s and a master’s degree. And when I was a new boxer, my brain frequently held me back in the ring. When faced with a complicated situation I wanted to stop and carefully analyze all the multiple pieces that were going into my work. But my brain wasn’t boxing-smart. And often there were too many pieces to think of at once, and I ended up paralyzed and unable to move, or else I just looked a mess.

    Over and over I would hear my coaches say, “You’re over-thinking it.” And I was. I found that often my body could respond more quickly and easily to my coach’s shot-calls than my brain could make sense of everything, stitch all the pieces logically together, and tell my body to execute the command.

    Sometimes you have to cut out the middleman. Sometimes the middleman is your own brain. Use your coach’s brain instead, because it’s boxing-smart.

    I was teaching proper form for a jab to a friend recently when I was reminded of this again. She wanted to “talk through” each part at length; it’s a complicated creature, the jab. We’d been going through the motions carefully for a while, but the whole shot wasn’t coming together for her.

    Eventually I interrupted her verbal processing, which was getting us nowhere. “Stop thinking about it,” I told her. “Just pop it into my hand on my command.” And an instant later I called, “Jab!”

    And damned if she didn’t throw the prettiest bee-sting jab you ever saw straight into my upraised palm.

    Your body may be able to learn boxing faster than your brain does. You need both, but more than that, you need a coach to tell you when to shift gears.

    3. Getting you through rough rounds against superior opponents

    Your coach helps you build your strategy as you prepare to face a tough opponent. And while you may start your bout with your plan firmly in place, sometimes you find yourself outmatched or getting eaten alive by your opponent’s strategy instead.

    At some point you default to simply protecting yourself; you become all defense. You stop scoring, and you will lose the fight if you’re all on your own.

    A good coach in your corner can turn that completely around for you, in many cases. But you have to be able to tune out the roar of the room, the sound of punches banging against your ears, and the random cheers and jeers of onlookers. You have to have one channel only open, the one between you and your coach.

    When she or he calls the shots, you let your body respond. Your coach then has the control, and can guide you through the jagged reefs and safely into the harbor, if you can listen and respond.

    As it is in boxing, so it is in life

    I find myself saying this more and more these days. Good, clean boxing informs life, and vice-versa. Get a coach you can trust, just like you have mentors upon whom you can depend to guide and train you in the best possible ways.

    Nobody owes you training, no matter how much you paid for your gym membership. The best training is earned. It comes in boxing as it does in life, when you develop a relationship with someone who is willing to teach, if you are willing to listen and work hard.

    So who comes to mind as you read this?

    I’ll bet you have some coaches, mentors, and trainers who absolutely changed the course of your life. I hope you’ll take the time to leave a comment and share your story. And even pass this on to a coach or teacher you’ve deeply valued…

    My own fist bumps and grateful appreciation go out to Coach Bonnie “Queen B” Mann, and of course, Willie “One Bad Jab” Massey. Many thanks to both of you, as well as to several other incredible coaches who have worked with and influenced me — Terri “The Boss” Moss, Paul “The Italian Hit Man” Marinaccio, and more. You guys have changed my life for the better!

    Image: That’s me, being cornered by pro trainer Xavier “Bad Pads” Biggs during my very first fight.

  • High Boxing Honor

    High Boxing Honor

    For more than a month I’ve been sparring with Bonnie Queen “B” Mann as she prepared for her double-title fight, scheduled to be held December 10th in Raleigh at the Longbranch. For me, having the opportunity to work in her training camp was unparalleled; I trained like a fiend, worked my ass off, and felt pretty much incredible. Very few women ever have an opportunity like that.

    The day of the fight Bonnie called me around lunchtime with the news.

    Her opponent, Carlette “The Truth” Ewell, ranked number 1 in the light-heavyweight division, had been hospitalized and would not be fighting.

    And before I could take in the breadth of her deep disappointment, she added, “I’d like you to do an exhibition fight with me instead. Four rounds.”

    Let’s get one thing straight: The fantasy of stepping into the ring at the last minute with a pro fighter is a pure-dee, sugar-laden, sunshiny, cotton-candy cloud of goodness.

    Of course I played that fantasy out when I heard how Victoria Cisneros — world-champion Holly Holm’s sparring partner — stepped in and went the distance with Holly on a night when Holly’s fight fell through at the last minute. But Cisneros was a pro fighter as well, with a dozen or more fights under her belt.

    The reality for me is a bit different.

    It was a bit of a gut hit at the beginning; one of those could-someone-please-sell-me-some-air moments. My brain momentarily ceased all operations and I struggled to mmmaaaaake wwwooords. Bonnie waited patiently on the other end of our connection, dealing silently with the turmoil of her own feelings.

    “Ask Tiffany!” I blurted finally, referring to another pro fighter Bonnie has sparred with once or twice.

    “She’s not in town,” Bonnie responded.

    “I’m sure you could find someone else,” I rushed on, knowing perfectly well that there isn’t someone else. The women’s pro boxing world is small, widely and thinly spread. We had less than 5 hours before the doors opened at the Longbranch.

    “Let me walk around the building once and I’ll call you right back,” I continued, unable to think, unable to breathe.

    I’m a little embarrassed about this now. I mean, here was my big chance! And all I could think about was the infamous Rawhide scene from the Blues Brothers movie, where the crowds booed and threw beer bottles. I knew the crowd was coming to see two world champs duke it out, not some exhibition fight between a hometown champ and an unknown amateur.

    Still, I could give them something. In fact, I would work my heart out, beer bottles crashing against the cage or no. I made it halfway around the building before texting back my coach. I didn’t mention Elwood, Jake, or the Rawhide plan. “I’ll do it,” was all I said.

    And the waiting began.

    Waiting is the biggest and most wretched part of boxing. I showed up at the venue with my gear at 6 pm, and didn’t go on until nearly midnight, I think.

    More than 20 fighters and their corners, as well as a contingent of Boxing Commission officials — all men except for Bonnie and me — were crowded into three small rooms behind the open hall where the ring was set up. Another tiny room housed the dozen or more ring girls (their room smelled considerably better), and all of us shared two bathroom stalls.

    I learned that it’s absolutely possible to pee every 10 minutes. Who knew the body could do such a thing?

    Other than obsessive bathroom visits, I watched. Fighters, in various states of dress and prep; some sleeping, some plugged in, some pacing or working lightly, being coached by trainers. Everything happened in incredibly close quarters (the red corner room where I stayed was maybe 8 x 10, and housed an ancient couch, a dozen people, and all our gear). I did all my shadow boxing and pad work in a narrow hallway with several other fighters pressing by me at one time or another. The relentless thump of bass, the shouting of the crowds, and the rich cadence of the ring announcer’s voice provided background for our private dramas.

    When I wasn’t maintaining mental blankness — a sort of necessary-for-survival radio static running in my head — I tried to visualize the fight. How I would move, what punches I would throw. But that tended to incite feelings of mild panic, so mostly I tuned in to the inner white noise, or queued up some Bob Dylan or Rolling Stones on my Shuffle to keep me company.

    The men were all unfailingly polite, although we all had the same inward focus and air of distraction. Coach Harold Cook had agreed to corner for me, and although he was really there for one of our star fighters — LA Boxing’s Will “W.W. II” Wilson (8-6-0) — he made a major effort to lighten my heavy mood, and his soothing physical presence and sturdy touch were a great gift to me.

    He went so far as to prepare a surprise for me at the last minute — finding my trainer Nas in the crowd and arranging for us to meet briefly before the fights began. I hugged Nas so hard and long he must have wondered if I would ever let him go. I learned later that Coach Cook is Nassir’s trainer (small damn world, I keep finding). And I went back to the fighter’s rooms with a happy grin pasted on my face.

    Mark Powell, another LA Boxing friend who was in the corner for Bonnie, was also a tremendous support, periodically catching my eye and tossing me an solemn wink. Chris Bright, there for our MMA fighter Trevor Hayes, sent me smiles as well.

    When the call came, I felt ready, I really did. We had just learned they were going to allow us three rounds — there were issues with the Boxing Commission related to the rushed putting together of medical records; my bloodwork was a year and a half old, and they require yearly bloodwork for pros. (They’re serious about bloodshed, as you can imagine.) But I would take three rounds. I would take anything. I wanted the show to go.

    Walking out to the ring under the spotlights was the utter opposite of my experience in Atlanta just two months ago. The crowd had only seconds before heard the news from the ring announcer that Carlette Ewell would not be fighting; the dull roar had quieted to a peculiar low-level buzz; people who were expecting the biggest fight of the night were frowning and asking each other what was going on. Other than a few drunken protests being shouted, it was almost quiet in there. My name was called, heads turned, I walked out, and I wasn’t Carlette.

    I tipped my chin up and stalked toward the ring in the silence.

    Then suddenly, it began to happen. All of the crew from my home gym started to realize it was me  — and they began to shout. First one voice, then another, and another. “Lisa!” they cried into the quiet. I turned to look out into the crowd and saw a few fists raised; these were my people, my friends. I climbed under the ropes and tried to find their faces. One man in particular moved up ringside and called to me with both hands in the air. His face was fierce and smiling: George Crofoot, a favorite sparring partner and friend from the Raleigh gym. He growled and gave me a double-fisted muscle message: You can do it! Give us a show.

    They were not going to see the fight they came for, but together we would represent.

    Earlier in the evening the ring announcer had sought me out to get my information. Name, ring name, place of residence, that sort of thing. When he asked me for my fight record I cleared my throat and tried not to apologize. I knew he wasn’t expecting me. At all. “I’m an amateur fighter,” I explained. “I’ve only had one fight. But I won! I guess that makes me 1 and 0. Undefeated.” I grinned lamely.

    He stared at me, then turned to make a note on his clipboard. “We won’t mention that,” he said.

    But you know what? He did mention it, under the spotlight, smiling and looking directly at me while he told the crowd I had a fight record of 1 and 0. It was an incredibly proud moment for me.

    From the opening bell Bonnie communicated her promise to me: this was not a beatdown. We were going to spar like we always spar; I had nothing to fear from her. She would absolutely demand my best work, and I would give her everything I had. She was the consummate professional, never sending the heavyweight knockout bomb, but continually pressing me — hard — to defend and throw.

    She brought out all her bread-and-butter punches; they were damn near old friends to me: the double left hook exploded against my ear and ribs over and over again in a burst of light and heat, but some of them I slipped or evaded. I frequently circled left rather than right and tried to keep my right glove up high out of healthy respect for that hook; it’s an old pattern and it works well. I kept a continual string of jabs in front of me, not caring that many of them didn’t land — they still functioned like they always do, keeping my opponent at bay.

    I tried a few left hooks of my own — Coach Cook was calling for a jab-right-hook combination, but it was the straight hard right that was the most effective. Amazingly, I could hear George from ringside, shouting encouragement and calling workable combinations using the right as a lead punch. I embarrassed myself by not fully committing to some of those (they often lead to inside work, which I sometimes avoid out of fear) before I finally just said Screw It, and launched them with abandon. When we clinched, I remembered to pivot right — I swear the ref was even saying this to me! — and get out fast before her whip hand could land one on me. I took hard hits to the body, but they never had that fight-stopping shock of a direct slam to the liver.

    Periodically I heard angry catcalls from the crowd. One man who was furious that Bonnie wouldn’t “Just finish her!” and others who made loud, querulous demands for us to take off our headgear, which amateurs are required to use but pros are not. But I also had the strange and overwhelming sensation that my entire team and all the professionals in the arena were supporting my game, rooting for me to show well with the Champ.

    And I did. Bonnie fought hard and didn’t let me off the hook. I fought with everything I had, and I think we both felt that familiar primal joy rising as we mixed it up. There are few pleasures to match the savage satisfaction of a hard-battled fight.

    On the final bell, I went back to my corner and Coach Cook took my mouthguard and gloves. An official was going to award Bonnie one of the title belts on a interim basis. “We can leave now if you want,” Coach Cook offered, but I wanted to stay. I got to be in the ring with this woman, I was going to see her wear the belt up close and personal. I earned this. When they gave her the microphone, she thanked me gracefully, promised her fans she would not disappoint them — they would see a title fight soon — and posed for photos. I got to see it all from the red corner.

    I rolled out of the ring and descended to the arena floor, my heart soaring ahead of me.

    In the back halls Paul “The Italian Hitman” Marinaccio (24-6-3) enveloped me in one of his rib-cracking hugs. Paul was the promoter of this event, had cornered for me during a recent sparring session with Bonnie during her training camp, and is Bonnie’s best friend. “Girl, you were incredible out there. When are you going pro?” he grinned. “I can get you a fight right this minute.”

    The rest of the evening passed quickly for me; everyone from my crew won their fights in spectacular fashion: Trevor Hayes, Will Wilson, and Antoine Alston, I salute you!

    And to Bonnie The Queen “B” Mann I offer a heartfelt thank you for giving me the most amazing gift and highest honor of all my boxing to date. I’ll never forget this. Never.

    Special thanks to all the people, particularly Trish Shugars, who took most of these photos with Bonnie’s camera! Thanks also to Angie Fagan Fielder, who took the one at the top.

  • Bonnie Mann Fights for Two World Titles

    Bonnie Mann Fights for Two World Titles

    Friday, December 10th, 2010 at the Longbranch Entertainment Complex in Raleigh, NC, the number two light-heavyweight in the world Bonnie The Queen “B” Mann (13-9-0, 6 KOs) will go head-to-head with number one light-heavyweight in the world, Carlette “The Truth” Ewell (14-7-0, 9 KOs). The winner will take home both the Women’s International Boxing Association and the Women’s Boxing Federation title belts.

    The two camps have agreed to fight at the catchweight of 185 for ten rounds. It isn’t often that Raleigh sees women’s title fights; if you’re anywhere within driving distance of this match, get your tickets from LA Boxing on North Harrison in Cary, NC now; every seat in the Longbranch has an incredible up-close view of the ring and some seats are already sold out. Standing-room only tickets are $35, and they go up from there.

    I was able to sit down with Bonnie after a sparring session last week to talk with her about the upcoming fight.

    You and Carlette are both coming off of two solid wins. But you are going to be fighting on home turf on the 10th. What other major advantages do you feel you have going in to this fight?

    I’ve been able to stay as agile at this heavier weight as I was back when I was fighting at 154 and 160. I’ve seen Carlette down at 160 — she moves better but doesn’t have the same power. I think the advantage for her is that she’s at a weight she’s comfortable with, but I have my agility and speed working for me. My power is better at this weight, too.

    What has your primary training focus for this fight?

    Working a lot of angles, turning my opponent, working on the inside. I’ve always been comfortable on the outside. I can keep distance on anyone. So now I’m working inside, and I’m very tight on my defense.

    You’ve done some sparring with Carlette before now. What are you going to be watching out for from her?

    Definitely her right hand. She’s a strong woman. Obviously her title and her record proves that she deserves to be where she’s at. And I deserve to be where I’m at. It’s going to come down to who wants it more, who throws more, who lands more effective punches. I don’t see any knockouts in this; I’m confident in my defensive abilities and I know she can take punches. It’s going to come down to the score, and who the judges believe has landed more punches.

    Carlette is talking big about how well her training is going. Do you think she’ll overtrain?

    It’s possible, but I don’t think she’ll overtrain; I know she’s getting her cardio up because her camp is going to want her to throw a lot of punches or keep me against the ropes so that she can work the body. But that’s not gonna work on me.

    You seem pretty comfortable working everywhere in the ring. You remind me some of Melissa Hernandez, who even seems to take up position on the ropes!

    Oh, yeah — there are times I draw my opponent in that way to work something different. Melissa Hernandez, Chevelle Hallback, Christy Martin — all those woman work everywhere in the ring. I’m very comfortable with that now.

    Anything you’d like to say to Carlette? She’s talking a little bit of smack, you know.

    When people talk a lot, it’s usually nervous chatter. One, they’re trying to hype up the fight, which is great. But if it’s a lot of smack, it’s usually because you’re nervous. That’s why you don’t hear me doing it. Talk is cheap. What matters is what you do in the ring. Go ahead and bring it on. I could care less what you have to say; bring it to the ring. The words that come out of your mouth are just words. Bring it to the ring.

    I have respect for anybody, but I don’t like it when people are disrespectful with their words. When they talk like “I’m gonna crack your dome,” and all that. That’s just talk. I’ve never had my ‘dome cracked’ and she’s not gonna be the one to do it. I know what she’s capable of and she’s not going to be able to keep up with me.

    What’s after this fight? Any opponents you’d particularly like to face?

    It depends on what weight class I stay in. I’d like to go against some of the top 10 girls in Germany.

    Like Natalia Ragozina?

    Definitely. She’s number one in the world in her weight. I’ve always fought top boxers, and it would be nice to actually make some money, too. Women rarely get much of a payday; it’s a lot of work, and it’s nice to get a little pay.

    I bet you’ll have some young up-and-comers, too; girls looking to get a shot at whoever’s in the number one position.

    Yeah, you get those for a couple of reasons. They want to go against someone who isn’t completely undefeated, but has experience, holds titles, and is a little bit older. They underestimate us. They’re already looking beyond us. I like surprising those 22 year-olds!

    I never look beyond my opponent — I don’t care what my opponent’s ability level or background or age is, anybody has a shot at winning a fight and all it takes is one punch to change a fight.

    Who are the boxers you most admire and have learned the most from?

    Paul Marinaccio, that one’s easy. He’s my best friend. He’s just an incredible human being. If not for Paul and Carlton Holland I wouldn’t be here. They showed me respect and helped me come up in the boxing world.

    And there are so many women. The women’s boxing world is tight-knit. You can reach out to them and talk to them and get answers. People like  Mia St. John. Meeting her was a thrill. Just the fact that we were able to sit and talk for a while, and now we go back and forth with emails and talk. Melissa Del-Valle. She is a great person. She’s always been supportive.  Trina Ortegon is great. She’s been a huge supporter. Carley Pesente, Ada Valez, Ria Ramnarine. And there are fighters I first saw back in the 80’s on an all-women’s card that I had on VHS tape! Dora Webber and her twin sister Cora. Women I keep up with now on Facebook.

    There are so many others, it’s hard to even name them all. I don’t think they realize how much I look up to them; it means so much to me to be getting encouragement and support from them all.

    We’re all looking forward to seeing you fight on the 10th. Some of us will be ringside, but many more will be waiting to hear, and supporting you as you make a bid for the titles!

  • 8 Rounds Boxing and a Personal Best

    8 Rounds Boxing and a Personal Best

    Bonnie’s ramping up for her title fight on December 10th, and as her sparring partner, I’m getting schooled (again).

    To be in the ring with someone so much better than me is an incredible thrill and it stretches me, grows me, teaches me, and absolutely makes me work my ass off.

    About 8 weeks before a major fight, most pro boxers begin their training camp. They shift up from maintenance mode training: they push up their cardio, increase their weight training, raise their punch counts, and begin creating a strategy for the specific opponent they’ll be facing in the ring.

    Bonnie “Queen B” Mann (13-9-0, 6 KO) will be facing off with Carlette “The Truth” Ewell (14-7-0, 9 KOs), who is officially a light heavyweight, and has fought most of her career against heavyweights, including German champion boxer Natalia Ragozina (22-0-0, 13 KOs).

    Heavyweights often move differently in the ring than lighter boxers do. You’ll see more walking, stalking, and knockout punches than you will dancing, circling and flurry combos. There may be a much lower punch count, but each punch is a cinderblock. Although Bonnie is ranked #2 in the world in the Light Heavyweight division, she has spent much of her career in the lighter weight categories, so she comfortably incorporates both types of boxing, although she tends to default to the heavyweight style.

    Because I spar enough with her to know her tendencies, I generally count on being able to hold up well against her in the first four rounds while I’m fresh, and I know I’ll have to keep my guard and my defense incredibly tight in the later ones when her power comes to the fore.

    But this training camp has been very different.

    Before our latest sparring session we spent some time discussing styles with her trainer, Derrick Reed, a wiry New Jersey fighter who boxed in the army for 7 years before beginning to train fighters with US Olympic boxing coach Anthony Bradley. Reed was in Bonnie’s corner when she won her first championship fight and gained the World Boxing Empire title.

    I alternately skipped rope and stretched while Coach Reed (Bonnie calls him Coach D) and Bonnie discussed the upcoming fight.

    My interval sprint training has really helped with my cardio lately. I had the usual pre-ring anxiety, but my confidence has increased as I’ve sparred the last few weeks with Bonnie. I’m starting to know the people in her training camp, and understand what they are all working toward. I’m aware that training with these people is the highest honor of my boxing life; I’m doing my best to savor every tension-filled minute.

    They discussed fighting style, potential strategies, and training plans as I listened in. It isn’t often that you get to hear a coach prepping his fighter for a title fight.

    After 6 rounds of shadow boxing, I was restive and bouncing, anxious for the bell. Coach D leaned over the ropes in my corner and gently hooked a finger on my headgear to settle me down as he spoke quietly into my ear.

    “You’re going to work your hardest tonight,” he said calmly. “You are not going to rest, and you’re not going to let Bonnie rest, either. I want you to to constantly attack. Move in on her and do not let her circle. Never stop your attack. Even if she tries to lead you, cut her off and make her engage.”

    My heart rate skyrocketed as the thrill of the battle plan filled me. I felt I would do anything to please this coach. I could give Bonnie this, I could mimic the unrelenting forward pressure of a heavyweight, even if I didn’t have the bombs.

    Bonnie had her own strategy. Normally she lets me open the session with my jabs and the first combination or two. She lets me test the waters, measure the distance between us. But this time she came out of the corner like a racehorse out of the gate; I threw one jab before she covered me up with a double salvo of combinations, hard.

    Nothing like eight fast punches to the head and body to sober you up. We were ON.

    I shook off the charge, pivoted out, then began my real work. I could see Coach D motioning from the corner: Come at her. Move forward. Advance.

    And I did.

    I mentally marked off the center of the ring as No Go zone. I would force Bonnie to stay on the outside, against the ropes and in the corners if possible. I would stay relentlessly in her face and push the attack.

    Bonnie skipped lightly backwards as I came forward. We would exchange shots and she’d be gone, out the side door. Round after round went by with the same intensity; she worked the angles and I stuck on her, forced the play, did my best to prevent her from exiting the encounter. I’ve never seen her move so quickly, lightly, and constantly; our punch counts were double their usual numbers, or more.

    We returned to our corners again and again, focused and dripping with sweat. The game never varied; it was the hardest I had ever worked. Several boxers watched us interestedly from below the ring. I lifted my chin in the boxer’s salute and was rewarded with smiles.

    With such constant engagement, we found ourselves in a frequent clinch — a situation I hate with a passion but can’t avoid. I hate it because I can feel Bonnie’s uppercut wanting to destroy me from underneath, I feel her incredible power trying to shove me out of the ring, I know she’s going to demolish me on the exit with a bomb hook to my ear.

    Coach D began to talk to me about it between rounds. “Let your hands work even in the clinch,” he counseled. “Lean on her, punch with anything that’s free. Make her pay. Never stop.”

    I listened, nodded, and cut my eyes toward Bonnie in the opposite corner. She grinned. The bell rang, and she taunted me, “C’mon Carlette, if you’re gonna fight,” she teased. I felt my own grin rise up.

    I growled and charged, willing the weight of a Mack truck into each of my gloves. The original six rounds Coach D had called for were past; we were still gunning.

    We clinched, I banged her ribs and head with my free fist. Coach D shouted encouragement. I was unable to throw off her weight, but I increased my speed on the exit and was rewarded with fewer head-ringing clouts to the ear.

    I refused to stop fighting and stayed on her, in her range, and tried to keep my head moving to slip her shots even when I couldn’t throw any punches. I’d never boxed better.

    By the eighth round Bonnie was on fire. I was winded but thrilled with my performance. In the corner Coach D asked me how I felt and I banged my gloves together. “I feel incredible,” I panted over my mouthguard. Sweat ran in rivulets down my arms and dripped off my elbows. He gave me water, slapped me lightly on the back of my headgear and smiled. “You’re doing great,” he affirmed. “Go finish it.”

    Whatever I had left, I put into that eighth round. Smack talk flew, when we had breath. Our punch count was through the roof. The 30 second bell signaled and I knew the round was about to close. Bonnie charged me with a flurry that looked to last the entire rest of the round. I covered, retreated, stuck a jab in her face. She ducked under and launched her right to my liver.

    Liver shots suck. You never see them coming because they’re only thrown when your opponent is deep inside and low. I was still in stance, left shoulder leading, and had just thrown a jab and was shifting to load a right. It was perfect timing.

    Bonnie ducked and threw the low right hook upward, above the hip and under the short ribs, and the effect was devastating; I got an immediate surge of cold shock-sweat and a sickening wash of nausea. I hate liver shots!

    I spiraled out, raised my gloves in surrender, and bellowed as I walked it off. “If you do nothing else in your fight,” I yelled, “you better deliver one of those to Carlette! Now gimme the rest of this round!” I spun and drove back to center, shaking off the effects.

    “That is the rest of the round,” Bonnie laughed as the bell rang to cut off my charge. I leveled my glove at her. “Next time,” I threatened. “Next time you are mine.” And we banged our gloves together with the deep satisfaction of a fight well-fought.

    Mark your calendars for December 10th, 2010: I’ll be posting news about the title fight, information about where you can get your tickets, and an exclusive interview with Bonnie!

  • Battle of the Beast is Coming!

    Battle of the Beast is Coming!

    Boxing fans mark your calendars for September 24th at the Longbranch Saloon in Raleigh, NC and get your ringside tickets for Jawbreakers’ next big Fight Night!

    World Boxing Empire champ (and my personal friend and trainer) Bonnie “Queen B” Mann will box on the card, as will rising ring star Antoine “The Future” Alston. Tickets start at $25 each and you can get them at LA Boxing in Cary and at Rapid Fitness locations.

    Psssst! Word on the street (well, at the gym, actually) is that Bonnie will have a TITLE FIGHT at Jawbreakers’ next event on Saturday, November 20th, but more about that later.

    See you at the Battle of the Beast!

  • Boxing Bragging Rights

    Boxing Bragging Rights

    Check it.

    The most recent Women’s International Boxing Association rankings put my trainer Bonnie Mann at NUMBER 3 IN THE WORLD in the Light Heavyweight division.

    Yeah, read that again, and wish you were so good.

    You can click over there yourself at this link and browse the ratings, but pay PARTICULAR attention (sorry, there’s no other way to do this except in all freaking caps) to the World Champion in the 175 lbs Light Heavyweight division, Carlette Ewell, who is ALSO here in North Carolina.

    Can you say “Give us a match-up,” people?

    That’s what I’m hoping for. Carlette (14-7) fought just last week and won against newcomer-to-the-ring Tiffany Woodard (2-3) who who impressed everyone by going the distance against a much more experienced opponent, and who is now ranked 4th in the Heavyweight division. Tiffany is also an NC pro boxer, and works out of a gym in nearby Wilson, NC. She made the drive out to get some sparring in with Bonnie before her fight with Carlette, which I got to corner for. Once this young fighter hits her stride, she’s gonna be a force to reckon with.

    Meanwhile, I’m ready to see a HUGE hometown match-up between my boss and Carlette.

    Fingers crossed for that, but meanwhile, putting my SWAGGER on for Bonnie Mann, #3 in the world!

  • Make Your Punches Count

    Make Your Punches Count

    Eight phenomenal non-stop rounds in the boxing ring last night with my trainer.

    I am consistently amazed at how much my boxing improves when I’m in the ring with her. I work so hard, learn so much, and have such an incredible experience.

    I had gotten to the gym an hour early to do 30 minutes of slow cardio and a long, careful stretching routine. I felt pretty warm and flexible, but wanted to preserve my energy for our rounds. I have not been training with intervals lately so I knew I’d have to work harder than usual to go whatever distance she chose. She knows I always want at least 6 rounds, but she has the capability to do far more; I’ve seen her go 15 straight rounds as fresh boxers on our team cycle in and out with her. She has phenomenal stamina.

    Last night I was a little nervous before we began; I couldn’t get the image of Bonnie’s last fight out of my mind. The jab-right combo — which instantly dislocated her opponent’s jaw and ended the fight with a first-round TKO — played itself over and over again in my head. I didn’t want to say too much about it in advance to Bonnie because I didn’t want listening bystanders to make jokes.

    It helped that she was relaxed but very serious as we geared up; this is a pro boxer coming off a big win, maintaining her form for her next fight in August. It could be a title fight. What we’re doing together is for real.

    Right before the bell rang I caught her eye. “I’m a little nervous,” I said, tapping my left glove to my jaw.

    She immediately caught on. “No need,” she returned quietly, shaking her head slightly. My fear immediately dissipated. What this woman says, you can take to the bank. The bell rang, we tapped gloves, and began to box.

    She almost always lets me throw the first combinations. Sometimes it’s spooky; you have the sense that she’s sizing you up and once she has your measurements will quickly put you on the canvas. When I’m in the ring with her I can feel her coiled power, all that potential energy swirling and packing into her body and awaiting release. Mostly I take the open shots she gives me with the sure and certain knowledge that I have one solid defense against a boxer who is better than I am: one million jabs.

    I have to throw more shots, whether they are good, bad, or otherwise. Jabs are the way to keep your opponent from thinking and planning. They keep her off of you, make her hesitate or defend. A wall of jabs is the surest way to open a path to a real shot, a solid right or a hook to the body, whatever it takes to get in on your opponent and score some pain.

    Lucky for me the old Bonnie, the pre-getting-ready-for-a-fight Bonnie, was back last night. She was content to make me work hard for four rounds while she sat back and sipped lemonade, periodically shooting a wicked punch out to make me remember just how deadly she can be.

    I was thrilled and amazed at how many of her left hooks I slipped. I got into a pattern with my combos — finally! — of punch-punch-punch SLIP. And it worked, because Bonnie loves to throw those hooks at my head when I come in at her. Several caught me clean, but many more slipped, catching no more than the edge of my glove or headgear. I was jubilant.

    In round four I began trying to throw my own left hooks. We’re both orthodox boxers but I frequently circle left on her for fear (respect, I meant to say respect) of her left hook. Last night I was circling right, having figured out the left hook but now being wary of that deadly right cross. I threw several hooks, but they were all in my arm, no body power behind them because I was staying to my right. Where the hell is Mike Tyson when you need him? I kept at it until I saw her grinning.

    “What? I’m trying to get in a left hook, dammit,” I slurred over my mouthpiece.

    “I know,” she said, “but you have to move in closer to get it.”

    Yeah, right. Move in closer to that right cross. My jaw ached just thinking about it.

    “Use your jab,” she advised. “Get in behind it, then whoomp.” She demonstrated for me.

    I tried a few times, even demanding that she slow down and let me move through it a few times on her. But when we got back into the action, I bailed. Back to a thousand jabs and slips, at least that was working for me.

    In round five she started in with her real power. “Bonnie’s warm!” I shouted to the gym. “That means cheer for me, not her,” I joked to one of the guys watching ringside. I was comfortable, in the zone, stoked. Honored that she knows she can unleash that kind of power on me, and more: I can take it!

    The gym echoed with the sound of serious blows being exchanged. I went ahead and exchanged all my chips for power and threw the hell out of what I had. She and I both roared with that crazy, brutal, we’re-in-it-now joy. I was drenched, working hard to breathe after combos. The world faded and there was only boxing.

    At the bell for the seventh round I realized a small crowd had gathered to watch. I suddenly realized that this was the first time Bonnie had been seen in the ring since her fight. I had made my six rounds with joy, with pleasure, with power. And now I was sucking for air and people were watching. Oh well, I thought, let’s see what I have left to give. And we boxed.

    Unfortunately, I caught a solid uppercut to the diaphragm toward the end of the seventh round, and all oxygen exited my universe. Bonnie knew it immediately, and I turned to the ropes and raised my arms to let some air back in to my lungs. “Just a second,” I gasped, “…need just a second.” She backed off and paced, and I cursed gently (because I find this helps) until I could breathe again.

    Ten seconds later I banged my gloves together. “Let’s finish this,” I called, and we touched gloves and worked.

    I finished the seventh round and collapsed gratefully against the ropes, finished. Except Bonnie wasn’t finished. “That was seven rounds?” she asked our ringside crowd, sneaking a look at me. “That feels so… unfinished.”

    I groaned.

    “I hate odd numbers,” she continued, laughing. “And I’m not even tired. Let’s do one more.”

    She knows I can’t resist. I’m helpless against her charm. Or else I am stone cold crazy.

    Yeah, probably that latter one.

    “You got it, Boss,” I told her, dumping half my water bottle over my head. I had no jabs left. I’d thrown everything I had. My arms were marshmallows. I got back in my corner, mentally prepared a battle plan for keeping out of range and covering up with a tight guard, and awaited the bell.

    It was true, she looked fresh. She performed with power and precision, hardly winded at all. I survived the eighth round with determined grace, and stripped my gloves off at the bell. I felt incredible, awesome. Best night of my week.

    But I was thinking later about why she was so fresh after eight rounds.

    As I looked back on it I realized that as the better boxer, she knew she didn’t have to throw as many punches as I did. She threw far fewer, but many more of hers were good or even excellent hits. Many of my jabs, which are effective at keeping her out of my space, don’t land with power or don’t land at all. They are still effective, but it means I’m throwing far more than she does. I go after her with everything I have, staying on offense at least 80% of the time, rarely resting.

    She boxes as if on very serious holiday, absolutely nothing is wasted, no moment is unplanned. Every combination, every segment of footwork, each careful moment of rest and defense is laid out like a fierce ballet. Every single punch counts.

    God, I want to box like that.

    I’m guessing she’ll give me more lessons. Meanwhile you can call me Woman of 1000 Jabs.

    And keep your eye out for my left hook, people. It may be young, but it’ll mature and bring a house of pain with it.

    Image of me sparring by Ken Hall Photography.

  • Mann & Marinaccio WIN! “Mama Said Knock You Out” Fight Night Results

    Mann & Marinaccio WIN! “Mama Said Knock You Out” Fight Night Results

    The Raleigh Convention center was host to a rowdy crowd of nearly a thousand fans on Saturday night for the Bonnie “Queen B” Mann (12-9-0) and Paul “The Italian Hitman” Marinaccio (25-5-3) pro boxing fights. Also on the boxing card was the inspiring young powerhouse fighter Antwon Alston.

    The night opened with four amateur and two pro MMA fights, all of which were nicely matched and fought. Several early KOs and three relatively bloody head wounds kept the canvas splattered, the grips slippery, and the fans pumped, but once the intermission was over, all talk turned to boxing.

    In the first boxing fight, Antwon Alston brought the crowd to their feet in the second round. He had pinned his opponent Tavlin Farmer to the ropes and unleashed a barrage of punches that seemed to go on forever. It seemed Farmer would have crumpled but for the force and speed of the blows that just wouldn’t allow him to fall. It was hard to believe we weren’t seeing a knockout in progress, but in fact Farmer rallied and even made it through another hard-fought round before succumbing to Alston’s superior speed and firepower. After Alston laid Farmer on the canvas, it was several minutes before he climbed wearily to his feet and was assisted out of the arena.

    The crowd, already aroused, was keen for more.

    And Bonnie “Queen B” Mann delivered the goods. You can watch the whole fight below.

    She and her pink-silk-clad crew paraded out of the fighter’s entrance stage, past four 15-foot-high fog jets, with heavy bass thumping in the background and dozens of fans crowded against the rails to see. Her crew forced a way to the ring and Bonnie climbed in, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet and gazing out at the arena.

    Opponent Katrina Jones stood quietly with her coach in the corner, moving little, ready to bang gloves and fight. The ring announcer waited for the heads-up from the judges, gave the signal, and both boxers surged forward.

    Mann led with a jab like a rocket-propelled missle, and a seemingly startled Jones windmilled her arms slightly and tried to return. Mann bounced lightly into the ropes and popped forward with her famous left hook, which staggered Jones a bit, but Jones spun out and gave herself some room. Bonnie slipped her opponent’s one-two combo, then danced backward to set up a series of jabs.

    The two exchanged punches for almost exactly one minute, before Mann unleashed a jab-right combination that tapped Jones with bone-jarring force precisely at the left hinge of her jaw, cleanly dislocating it.

    Jones’s head snapped sideways, she immediately waved Mann and the ref off, and made a beeline to her corner, unable to continue.

    Bonnie “Queen B” Mann Fight, May 2010 from Lisa Creech Bledsoe on Vimeo.
    It took a moment for the reality to sink in for the fighters as well as the fans, but after Jones was seen to by her coach and the ring doctor, the announcer raised Bonnie’s hand in victory, and we were on to the final fight of the evening.

    Paul Marinaccio was in fine form, light on his feet and gliding about the ring from the first bell. Opponent Shannon Caudle showboated the entire fight, giving the fans theatrics and chatting smack with The Hitman throughout every blistering round.

    Marinaccio was serious and deadly, and the show coming from Caudle in no way disguised the sheer power of his boxing. Once in a while Caudle would stagger or seem to be cowed by a blow, but each time it looked as if he might be failing, he would grin, recover, and launch his own Sunday bomb. They were extremely well-matched, and pounded each other relentlessly from start to finish of every single round. The crowd ate up every bit of the action, and returned it full-force in screaming, sweating devotion.

    My call on the score (for which no one was paying me) was that Paul came out ahead by a reasonable margin, but the judges scored it much more closely, giving Marinaccio the win in a split decision.

    It was an incredible night to be at the fights, and you can expect more fights of this caliber from Jawbreaker Events and Rapid Fitness this fall. You can also see all my photos from the night on my Flickr. Leave me a comment and a link if you have photos to share as well!

  • Fight Night Weigh-Ins

    Fight Night Weigh-Ins

    Weigh-ins for the “Mama Said Knock You Out” fight event were held at The Bassment on Glenwood South in downtown Raleigh last night. NBC 17 was there to film the action and interview the promoters and top fighters on the card.

    Several of the fighters knew each other and greeted one another with hugs and smiles; others kept to themselves with an air of grim determination. The small crowd of die-hard fans, friends, and supporters cheered wildly for the fighters as they stripped down for the official weigh-in; the fact that everyone came in on target was a great show of professionalism.

    I always experience the posedowns as awkward and cool at the same time; I think they work best when the fighters enjoy making a show of this traditional photo-op. I captured Bonnie “Queen B” Mann’s posedown as well as Paul “The Italian Hit Man” Marinaccio’s; you can see the rest of my photos of the event here.

    I plan to be ringside tonight at the Raleigh Convention Center; you can still get tickets when the doors open at 6:30 pm. The first six matches are MMA, and the last three fights will be the pro boxing matches. Come on out and support these incredible, powerful and dedicated fighters!

  • Mama Said Knock You Out

    Mama Said Knock You Out

    Here are three excellent reasons you ought to come to the fights this Saturday night in the Raleigh Convention Center:

    1. You ought to be able to say “I’ve seen boxing live.” Doesn’t everyone have this on their bucket list? Watching a boxing fight on television is not nearly as exciting as seeing the real thing up close and personal, preferably from ringside. This is a rush no other sport can provide — a visceral, heart-pounding thrill. You’re gonna love it.
    2. This is local boxing royalty. The people fighting this Saturday night are seasoned professionals; they have paid their dues, trained and sweated and bled and worked incredibly hard for many years to get where they are today. They are dedicated warriors with the belts to prove their prowess. You live in the same city as some powerful and famous sports heroes and you should be able to say you’ve seen them rock the ring.
    3. Bonnie “Queen B” Mann will be fighting. Most everyone can say they have seen men boxing (on TV if not live), but have you ever seen a woman box? The US Olympic committee only recently voted to allow women to compete in boxing in the Olympic games; history is being made! You can be a part of  an incredible shift in the way the world views women and this sport by coming to see the grace and power that women bring to the ring.

    Get your tickets at LA Boxing on North Harrison in Cary; a portion of the money from tickets purchased there go to support Bonnie Mann’s bid for the win this Saturday night. I’ll see you there!