Tag: dangerous

  • Holly Holm’s KO Fight Has Dangerous Ref (and Bad Corner)

    Holly Holm’s KO Fight Has Dangerous Ref (and Bad Corner)

    The Holly Holm (30-2-3, 9-KOs) vs Anne Sophie Mathis (26-1, 22-KOs) “World Dominance” fight is bothering me, and it should bother everyone with a stake in professional boxing.

    Both of these phenomenal, world-class boxers fought well and did absolutely nothing wrong. However, referee Rocky Burke and Holm’s corner were not only neglectful, but dangerous.

    Holm is a punch-and-move technical boxer with tremendous foot speed, and Mathis is an out-and-out powerhouse brawler with a knockout right. It was an outstanding match-up, and the first five rounds were incredible.

    In the fifth, Holm seemed to move less and trade more bombs, and the damage began to pile up on her. The ref called Mathis for rabbit punches (which can take a serious toll), but that was apparently his last good call.

    In the sixth, Mathis dropped Holm to the canvas, and after FAILING to issue a count, the ref let a weaving, disoriented Holm face further mauling from Mathis.

    At the bell, Holm’s corner had their first opportunity to make a exit plan, but they didn’t, as far as I can tell.

    The seventh round was a travesty — not at all what good boxing should be.

    Holm had no more legs, and mostly swayed and staggered, with her head drooping and guard wide, just taking shot after shot from Mathis.

    At one point Holm was beat back into the ropes and actually became entangled, hanging drunkenly as Mathis ripped into her, tearing open a gash on her cheekbone before the ref finally made his way over to help Holm out of the ropes, propping her upright and signaling the fighting to resume.

    Mathis unleashed two rights in a row on the incoherent Holm, putting her through the ropes and nearly onto the judges’ table. She was pushed back into the ring where she rolled to her side, completely limp, blood streaming from her face.

    In the photo below you can see that Holm is still having to hold herself up by draping an arm over the ropes, even as she finally receives attention from her team.

    Mathis behaved impeccably. There was no jeering, parading, or trumpeting over the fallen Holm. Mathis won the fight and deserves the title; of that there is no question.

    Holm did her best to do what her inattentive corner left her in there to do. I can understand their decision to let it go in the sixth, but why they allowed their fighter to be brutalized in the seventh, when she clearly couldn’t protect herself, return a shot, or even hold herself upright, is unimaginable.

    The ref failed her utterly. I don’t even have words for him.

    Holly’s post-loss press video is heartbreaking…

    The fiasco has garnered some press, but of course since it’s a women’s fight there won’t be nearly the outrage that there should be.

    The thing I’m most curious about is what Holm’s conversations with her trainers and corner were like, in the privacy of their own gym, after the initial devastation of the fight was past…

    I hate when fights are called too early, but in this case there was no doubt in my mind that serious mistakes were made, and that a fighter’s life was needlessly endangered, both by the ref and by the corner.

    I know boxing is a tough sport, and people get hurt. But there’s a line, and this one went well past it.

    What do you think?

  • Mosh Pits and Group Hugs: The Ichthus 2011 Report

    Mosh Pits and Group Hugs: The Ichthus 2011 Report

    The First, age 16, just returned from the Ichthus Music Festival in Wilmore, KY.

    Over a hundred bands on more than seven stages, four days running. Approximately one bajillion crazy spectators, mostly unwashed (they do have cold showers there, and there was a trailer where you could pay $3 for a hot shower, but the First did not elect to spend his cash this way, preferring instead to tough it out and get hosed down regularly in the mosh pit; more on that later).

    Having decided to drive home in the middle of the night in order to beat thunderstorms (which relegated all festival-goers to their vans as a result of concert-wide ruling) and the end-of-Ichthus crush to leave, he and his group of friends arrived back at our church near-zombified, but happy.

    He grabbed his gear and slid into the backseat of my car with one of his brothers and sighed happily. “There’s so much room in here,” he commented, stretching out in my little compact. He made the trip up to KY in the back of a 15-passenger van loaded with 15 passengers and their luggage, and rode back in the cab of a small pick-up truck with three passengers (luggage piled in the flatbed).

    They all became quite close.

    I waited interestedly to see if the urgent need for sleep would win out over the desire to give the first festival report.

    “There were some incredible bands,” he summarized, reeling off the names of a dozen or more. “And the mosh action was phenomenal.”

    Ahh, the mosh pits.

    Two years ago I introduced the First and the Ice to mosh pits at Crüefest, their first major concert festival, telling them well in advance to keep away from the front of the stage, and carefully and repeatedly explaining what they should do if they found themselves caught up in a spontanteous mosh.

    I had worried about it so much, and then I was the one who got caught in one up at the Rev Theory stage. Fortunately, only my sunglasses got broken before I could get out.

    I was pleased to learn that moshing may have been somewhat institutionalized since then. Apparently at Ichthus, there are not only rules — you have to have pit hair to get in the pit (clever! disgusting!) — there were also clearly designated areas for moshing. There were also people keeping the area and the moshers hosed down. The First said that was because the lots were gravel, and the hoses were to keep down the dust. But it also cooled off the moshers quite nicely. Probably washed off any blood as well, hah.

    But most notably, the mosh pits had lifeguards! Burly dudes in orange bandannas, who were the first to snatch up people who fell and who also stood as a living barrier between the crown and the moshers.

    This I found truly heartening, no joke.

    I grew up in the era when moshing was invented, and you could get seriously injured in a mosh pit at at Bad Brains or Black Flag concert.

    By the way, I highly recommend the documentary American Hardcore for footage of the early punk rock scene — you can watch the entire film online for free at this link and here’s the trailer, also embedded below, which will give you a good idea of what I mean. The footage that starts about 57 seconds in is forever etched on my brain, and I have always been exceedingly cautious at concerts because of this sort of thing happening during my early concert-going years.

    So while my son related his various experiences in the mosh pits at the hardcore stage, I was incredibly grateful to hear him casually mentioning how well-monitored the pits were, and how, err, safe. Even when the bands themselves screamed for a Wall of Death (here’s a link where you can see the Wall of Death) the kids seemed to all take care of each other.

    I mean, as much as you can “take care” in a mad rush to slam yourself bodily against an oncoming tide of humanity.

    But here’s the interesting thing.

    He mentioned something I’d never heard of before: pre-moshing group hugs. Apparently there was a guy who regularly helped initiate the moshing, and the First said that sometimes, when the pits were full but not yet moving, this guy would gesture wildly to get everyone’s attention, and then throw himself madly at his fellow moshers in a ferocious hug.

    And as if by some predetermined agreement, an all-out, near violent (but nonetheless well-meant!) mass-moshpit hug would occur. In my mind it looks something like the exuberant dogpile you sometimes see in football and other sports, immediately after the team has pulled off an incredible win.

    And after the hug, full-scale moshing.

    I have no idea whether this was something unique to Ichthus (which is technically a Christian music festival) and/or this particular dude, or whether it’s a trend in hardcore mosh pits these days.

    Either way, I kind of like the idea, don’t you?

    Image by Rich Copley, posted on Copius Notes.

  • New Lessons in Boxing

    New Lessons in Boxing

    I’m making my way back from the Christmas holiday slouch — a much-needed break — and I’m doing okay. And the first challenge of the new year was sparring with a group of young men from the UNC boxing team (yep, they have a boxing team! No women, though.), who joined us recently at the gym.

    Sparring with the UNC Team

    It is admittedly nerve-wracking, having a bunch of big, muscled, fit young college men show up at your ring. You never know how all-out the mix-up will be. The first time I ever experienced this I completely bailed out, the level of testosterone and terror was so high.

    And that’s precisely what happened for our younger and newer team members. This time, though, I was determined to stick in there.

    The UNC guys came in with almost no entourage and a good attitude, joining in our warm-ups, joking and friendly. And even though there were some politics and a small amount of drama involved, we had some good sparring together.

    Sparring with the Second Round Team

    So I was feeling much better when a week later, another boxing team showed up at our gym unexpectedly (detail mix-up) for sparring. This team’s rather extensive entourage arrived before they did, and it completely set us all off guard. We eventually learned that this was the team we were expecting to meet the next morning at another location for a three-gym sparring session.

    But, given that our two gyms were here on the night before, we did our best, and amazingly (given my discomfort and nerves), I boxed well that night. I worked primarily with my own team mates, but also did three rounds with one of their up-and-coming young female boxers, as well as a very memorable round with their 6-time national champion Olympic hopeful (male).

    I was confident and strong, and I went home at 9:30 pm, showered, changed, and went out to for a few drinks and some local rock music with my husband.

    The next morning he woke up with a fever. One of our sons had just been sick, and so I braced myself for the inevitable domino effect to run through my family. And I checked myself constantly — was my headache due to boxing, drinking, sleep deprivation, worry, or was I getting sick too? Was my muscle soreness from the hard workout the night before or did I feel feverish? I had promised to be at the 3-gym sparring session, but was I well enough?

    I went anyway. I was nearly an hour late, arriving dehydrated, exhausted, and anxious. Bad mix.

    Sparring with Second Round and LA Boxing Raleigh

    There were a ton of boxers there, mostly experienced and strong, but a few greener boxers as well. It was probably one of the highlights of my boxing career to date that when I was called into the ring, my coach told me to “hold back” and the opposing coach told their fighter to “go all out.” It’s so rare that I get to be the superior boxer! But I felt like crap, though, and even before the bell rang I knew I was in for a whuppin’.

    And I took my licks. The two boxers (both women) that they put in with me were certainly greener, but that didn’t mean they weren’t hitting me with every ounce of power they had. I stumbled once, early on. My feet refused to move. My head refused to think. My gloves rode low and I took hit after hit to the head. Once I was so ungainly that I got head-butted — her head to my chin — and I have a whopping bruise and a sore jaw as a result.

    Absolutely 100% of the damage I took was my own damn fault.

    I was slow, tired, and unprepared. I am easily the better boxer and yet I let the newer boxers take me down. I barely made it through four rounds. I deserved every bit of my pain, and I’m doing my best to call it a lesson well-learned.

    Here’s my recap:

    Lesson One: Hard sparring two days in a row is advanced.

    If you decide to do it, you need solid cardio, good sleep, no drinking, and plenty of hydration. Eating right is essential. Fuel your body in all the right ways in advance. As one of the coaches ringside said to his miserably flagging fighter, “Anybody can box when they’re in shape.” Avoid the misery. Be ready.

    Lesson Two: Sparring with another gym takes a greater toll than sparring with your own team.

    People are scared and uncertain and some have things to prove. Everyone fights harder; there’s never “light” sparring. It’s often harder than an actual fight, because you’ll have more rounds and more opponents. Be aware that the next few days you will need to pamper yourself and recover. Also you’ll want ibuprofen.

    Lesson Three: Always protect yourself.

    If someone is throwing heat in their rounds, you need to be able to tell them to cut that shit out before you start your own rounds with them. Don’t mice words, don’t be polite. Be direct and forceful. I only did it once with the UNC boys, and it was entirely effective. He pulled the heat and after we sounded each other out, he gave me good work.

    Yes, your coach or trainer is also looking out for you, but frankly, you should be doing this for yourself. Boxing is a dangerous sport, no lie. It’s also very individual-oriented. There’s no team of players in there with you who can protect you if you falter. You can’t call a time-out and ride the bench for a few minutes — you’re in there until the bell rings. Every boxer has to evaluate the danger and operate within risky boundaries. You don’t want to screw around with this, or leave it to someone else.

    Lesson Four: You can learn a shit-ton of new things if you are willing to do it.

    The young up-and-comer from the unexpected sparring night was incredibly fierce. She constantly came forward on me, bringing me game. She had a high punch output and made me use a little more power than I should have in order to hold her off of me. I want to work with her again in order to practice blocking more of her shots.

    The Olympic hopeful dude was a sheer joy — his coach put him in on defense only with me (which I often hate, as it makes me feel like a baby) but he was so good that I could hardly lay a shot on him. His foot speed was great, but he really shone when he stood still and let me throw combos; his ability to evade my shots with fades, slips, leans, and ducks was amazing. Once I tried to pin him in a clinch and he simply wrapped my arms and turned me neatly 180 degrees with a quick spin. Utterly illegal, completely hilarious. I loved it.

    And damn, I can hardly wait to get back with those girls from the three-team day of sparring! One of them was incredibly effective at pinning me to the ropes with her wide hooks. She was shorter than me but she was great at using her extra weight to wear me down. The other was  quick with her right, and I don’t think I blocked a damn one of her power punches. I want her again, too. Both of those girls would make me use my feet and responses to evade their combos.

    Lesson Five: Facing fear needs practice.

    It’s incredibly useful to go spar with new people because it lets you experience the adrenaline dump, the fear, and the nerves, which are all a part of an actual fight, and a part of life.  Part of me thinks that if I can just go through it enough in boxing, it will quit having so much debilitating power over me. Who knows.

    I do know that I have some mental work to do, to build myself back up after sucking so bad on that third sparring event. Mental and physical. But for now I’ll take a couple of days off, ice what’s sore, and take another dose of aspirin. I have new lessons to assimilate before I go hunting for more.

    North Burnaby Boxing Gym on Flickr.

  • Love Shark

    I stumbled across my “free will astrology” horoscope recently, which factually advised me that “it is an excellent time to coax out the tender, romantic side of [my] inner shark, as well as the inner shark of anyone [I’m] attracted to.”

    As I reflected on my inner love shark, I decided the best way to “coax” the shark-man who is my obvious destiny would begin with a sultry yet toothsome (and perhaps even ferocious) playlist. This list is called The Obvious Destiny of Sharks, or more simply, Love Shark:

    1. Adore / Prince
    2. You’re My Flavor / Lenny Kravitz
    3. Be Without You (Kendu Mix) / Mary J. Blige
    4. Nice and Slow / Usher
    5. Work It Out / Beyoncé
    6. SexyBack / Justin Timberlake featuring Timbaland
    7. My Lovely Man / Red Hot Chili Peppers

    We have a love shark date tonight, which just might include dancing followed by a visit to the ER.