His Last Fight

The referee gives the fighters their final instructions before sending them back to their respective corners. The trainers and cutmen exit the ring, leaving only three people inside the ropes. There is always something special about this moment–the few seconds where both boxers stare each other down before the first bell rings. It’s a brief moment that seems to last forever as my heart begins to race. In all my years of being a boxing fan, I always thought the sound of the first bell was exhilarating, but it’s even more intense when one of the fighters is your son.

“Come on, Jason,” I whisper to myself in shaky words.

He bounces on his feet and pounds his gloves together. The gymnasium is full of his friends who are cheering him on. They’re all confident he’s going to prevail. He’s only lost once in his nine amateur fights, and we all know that blemish was a robbery.

The bell sounds.

Round one.

Jason comes out confident, moving his feet and head. His opponent has a much longer reach than I expected he would. I could tell from the earlier staredown that he was taller, but I didn’t know he would deliver the telephone pole-like jab that he has. My son is flustered by his opponent's primary weapon. He’s losing this round due to lack of activity, but it’s still early; there are two rounds to go. Jason gets his head popped back twice before the first round ends. He walks back to his corner while shaking his head.

I can’t hear what his trainer says in between rounds, but I can tell he doesn’t have kind words to say. He holds his fists up and tries to mimic the actions that Jason should take to get inside of the jab. I hope he listens; I hope it helps.

Round 2

The opponent is more aggressive this time, not letting Jason have a moment of reprieve. Jason has all sorts of punches to worry about this round; he’s no longer just getting jabbed. A montage of blows come at him from every angle. Most of them miss, but enough land for Jason to begin bleeding from his nose. The distressed look on his face makes me want to scream. After a disastrous two minutes, the bell rings again. I let out a sigh and wish there wasn’t another round.

Jason sits as his cornermen attend to his bloody face. They quickly turn a white towel red, trying to stop the hemorrhaging.

Round 3

Jason goes in guns blazing. He hurls wild swings at the young man in front of him, knowing this is the only chance he has for a victory. A few glancing blows connect. My son is doing better this round, but it does little to erase the rest of the fight. He begins to huff and puff. Then it happens: a right cross lands on Jason’s head and he drops to the canvas. This is something I’ve never seen before. I want to run down the bleachers in front of me and jump into the ring to make sure he’s okay, but I don’t. My body is frozen in an odd state of disbelief. Jason struggles to get to his feet. After making sure he’s okay, the referee lets the fight continue for the remaining handful of seconds. The final bell ringing is the kindest sound I’ve ever heard.

My body becomes unstuck as I make my way ringside.

Minutes later Jason and his opponent are summoned to the center of the ring. The announcer begins reading off the scorecards. There’s no surprise when the opponent's hand is raised.

Jason wants to cry; he’s not the only one.

#

It’s a quiet ride home. We’ve only been in the car for a few minutes, but the deafening silence makes it feel like an eternity. There’re no other cars on the highway as we sail into the darkness. The uneventful drive makes it more awkward.

Jason breathes heavily in the passenger seat. We haven’t spoken since his loss. I want to look over and say something to him, but I don’t have the words. He wants to break down, and I almost want to do the same. I hate how he’s in pain both inside and out. The mere sight of his wounded face makes me want to shed tears, but I can’t. I’m Dad. I need to be stronger than that. Now I know how my own father felt in this situation.

An hour earlier Jason was ecstatic to enter the school and put on his trunks in the dressing room. He looked forward to displaying his talent in front of his classmates and declaring victory over another unfortunate victim. Things went the opposite of what he planned. In three rounds of boxing, his heart, hopes, and dreams have been shattered.

“You fought bravely tonight,” I finally say. I wait for a response that never happens. “Honestly, you went into that last round with bad intentions. You went for it all. You even fought like a man after you went down. That’s showing true guts and grit.”

“Well, at least I showed something.” He lets out a small whimper after he speaks.

During my seventeen years as a father, I’ve never had too many great times with Jason. I’ve provided for him and been a loving father, but he has often been very distant. However, ever since he showed interest in boxing, we’ve grown much closer. We’ve gone to the gym together every week for the past six months. Each time he put on the gloves, there was a certain light in his eyes I had never seen before. He loves the sport perhaps even more than me. My guess is that he’s having a conflicting relationship with it now.

I know what I should do right now, but I dread it. The truth needs to be told that Jason’s dream of success in the ring may be hopeless. His chances were never great, and now they’ve gotten smaller. It’s the saddest lesson that every youngster needs to learn: our heads are filled with goals we’ll never accomplish. If Jason doesn’t know this now, he’ll need to have it explained. We’ll have to have the same devastating conversation my father had with me decades earlier. It’s going to hurt. The punches that battered his face earlier will seem painless by comparison.

I take a deep breath and get ready for our depressing talk–I prepare to break his heart more.

“Dad,” he says before I can speak, “can I say something.”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“I know you’re going to call me a quitter, but I don’t want to do this anymore.”

I turn to him and furrow my brow. “What?”

“Boxing. I want to give it up. I know that everyone has to lose in this sport. I know that it’s a way of learning, but I just don’t see much of a point to this anymore. And I know what you’re going to say before you say it. You’ll say I’m afraid.” He shakes his head. “I’m not. I’m not getting scared away by one ass kicking. I want to walk away because I think it’s for the best. Graduation is coming up next year, and I think I should be more focused on my grades.”

A laugh escapes me. Jason turns to me and squints his swollen eyes. It’s clear he’s confused about the smile on my face.

“That…that’s a great idea, buddy.” I know my voice sounds unnatural.

“Are you being sarcastic, dad?”

“No, not at all. That actually sounds really good.”

“Okay then.” He rests his head on the window next to him and stares off into the night.

Our tough talk went better than I would have expected it to. It came and went almost without happening. I wonder at which point between the fight and now has Jason made such a mature decision. Then a good question hits me.

“Jason, have you thought this way for a while now?” He turns to me and shrugs. “Have you been training for fights even though you didn’t want to?”

“It’s not that I necessarily didn’t want to. I knew that you loved coming to see me fight. You tried your heart out to succeed as a fighter, and I know you wanted to pass all that knowledge on to me. I knew it made you happy to see me in the ring.”

It was true. I loved watching my son follow in my footsteps, but that ended tonight. For years, I spent my life chasing my pipe dream while receiving beatdowns in the process. It was a waste of my younger years. I would hate to see Jason repeat that. There’re higher things in store for him.

It’s then I realize I’ve never had a serious conversation with him about higher learning.

“So, you have your sights set on college,” I say. “Any place in particular you have in mind?”

For the next several minutes, Jason tells me about his plans to visit campuses next semester. What started as an awkward drive home turns into an educational talk about his plans for future enrollment. During all Jason’s previous fights, I was always proud of him when we drove home together. I didn’t think he’d find a way to top that tonight.