Put Through the Ringer
Joseph Frontino
Jan. 24th 2013
5th period
PUT THROUGH THE RINGER
The best feeling in the world is knowing that in the set three minutes you are given, the only obligation that you have is to win the fight you are about to walk into. “Eye of the Tiger” constantly plays over and over in my head and the only thing I’m making eye contact with is the opponent’s eyes. From the way that his feet are planted I already know that this will be an easy take down, I won’t need more than two minutes. The glare of the lights hits the cherry red on his gloves as I take each jab he throws in my direction. I follow up with my jabs twice as hard to his upper body; unfortunately all I’m hitting are his arms because he knows how to block, and he knows how to block well. In boxing, you often know when somebody has given up the fight, lost control of what they’re trying to accomplish in the battle, or have taken so many strong jabs and punches that they don’t even know where they are. You know all of this by the way they present themselves as the fight carries onward; are the now slouching a bit? Are their eyes nodding in and out? Are they even making eye contact with you at this point? If you answered the question above as “No,” then it’s your cue to throwing one of the best punches you can, take them down to the floor, and have the audience applaud as you take the trophy and your sweaty body out of the ring. I’ve been a boxer since the age of nine, though I quit not too long ago pursuing the world of theatre instead. I quit around the age of fifteen, which was also the age I started to figure out who I truly was as an individual. I decided that things were changing for me at a very early age, and I didn’t really know who to turn to about these sudden changes, so I turned to my two amazing coaches to let them know that I was, in fact, gay. They completely understood, were totally supportive, and asked no questions, which lead to me coming out to my parents, who
Jan. 24th 2013
5th period
PUT THROUGH THE RINGER
The best feeling in the world is knowing that in the set three minutes you are given, the only obligation that you have is to win the fight you are about to walk into. “Eye of the Tiger” constantly plays over and over in my head and the only thing I’m making eye contact with is the opponent’s eyes. From the way that his feet are planted I already know that this will be an easy take down, I won’t need more than two minutes. The glare of the lights hits the cherry red on his gloves as I take each jab he throws in my direction. I follow up with my jabs twice as hard to his upper body; unfortunately all I’m hitting are his arms because he knows how to block, and he knows how to block well. In boxing, you often know when somebody has given up the fight, lost control of what they’re trying to accomplish in the battle, or have taken so many strong jabs and punches that they don’t even know where they are. You know all of this by the way they present themselves as the fight carries onward; are the now slouching a bit? Are their eyes nodding in and out? Are they even making eye contact with you at this point? If you answered the question above as “No,” then it’s your cue to throwing one of the best punches you can, take them down to the floor, and have the audience applaud as you take the trophy and your sweaty body out of the ring. I’ve been a boxer since the age of nine, though I quit not too long ago pursuing the world of theatre instead. I quit around the age of fifteen, which was also the age I started to figure out who I truly was as an individual. I decided that things were changing for me at a very early age, and I didn’t really know who to turn to about these sudden changes, so I turned to my two amazing coaches to let them know that I was, in fact, gay. They completely understood, were totally supportive, and asked no questions, which lead to me coming out to my parents, who