NYPD blow

I hit a cop tonight, but he hit me first.

Emery is a boxing trainer at the New York Athletic Club. His nickname is "The Mad Hungarian." We're the same age. Emery fought in the Golden Gloves when he was younger, and now he just boxes for fun.

As I was headed to the locker room, Emery asked me if I wanted to spar with one of his guys, an NYPD cop named Russell. I wanted to see the guy first before committing. Sometimes a trainer will throw you in with a guy "to move around with," and next thing you know you're getting the crap beat out of you.

It's been a few weeks since I've sparred, so I was glad to shuck the rust. I watched Russell spar with Emery and decided we'd be a good match. Russell's about my height, a few pounds lighter than me, and about 10 years younger. He's got a shaved head and a nice, compact body.

Russell had just won his first novice bout in the New York Golden Gloves. He was at Trinity to get some work in before his next bout.

The bell rang, we touched gloves, and Russell threw the first jab. It was one of the few jabs he threw the whole session. He likes to mix it up on the inside, which I like better than boxing. For years I thought I was a boxer, a fighter who punches at long range, until I worked with a trainer who told me that my shorter arms were better suited to a puncher. "Styles make a good fight," Emery said when I told him I was a southpaw.

Russell was moving around with me for most of the first round. I kept landing shots to his midsection, and he was moving to his right too much. Against a southpaw, an orthodox fighter should be trying to move to his left. Because lefties and righties are trying to move in different directions, it's the guy who gets his lead foot on the outside of his opponent's lead foot that dictates the action. Russell was good at timing his punches so that our jabs didn't collide.

In the second round, Russell opened up a little more. He landed two excellent uppercuts to my solar plexus. The second one hurt. I countered with a right hook to the head. I could tell he hadn't seen it coming. Emery said that Russell had fought a southpaw in the Gloves and won, so I wasn't his first. He had good angles, and I moved well with him. I felt relaxed and focused. I was throwing good combinations and pushing the action. Russell landed a hard left jab to my right eye, and I realized that I couldn't see. My lens had been yanked out. Time out. The lens was on the canvas. I understood then how a fighter like Sugar Ray Leonard could get a detached retina. A punch can sometimes land faster than you can blink.

I finished the round with one lens. At least the lens came out of my stronger eye. I've tried boxing without my lenses, but I don't see as well. It's another reason why I don't spar so much--I just really can't see well unassisted. I want to get Lasik surgery this year, but that means I probably won't be able to box for almost a year.

I was starting to run out of gas in the third round, mostly because Russell was landing more as I struggled to see. I know I should have quit at the end of the second, but as many fighters will tell you, once you get into the groove it's hard to stop, like eating a one-pound bag of M&Ms. I still managed to land some good body shots, and we had some great exchanges before tying up and pounding each other on the inside, when the bell rang.

"Great job!" Emery said. It felt good fighting someone who actually knows what he's doing. Sparring with newbies is good because you have to stay on your toes. They don't have the control that an experienced fighter has. Russell knows how to handle himself in the ring, and that made it enjoyable for me.

That's what I love about boxing. How else could I legitimately take out my aggression on an officer of the law without getting arrested?