Pugilist’s Training Tips: Choice of Weapons

This is a guest post from Oleg Fadeev who comes to us all the way from Nizhni Novgorod, Russia.

Hi all!

Today it’s time to visit our armory and have a look at what we have there. For the sake of a logical approach let’s divide our weapons into offensive and defensive means.

Offensive means

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It is the simplest section for a boxer, actually. If you condition your knuckles and wrists properly you need no special “street” techniques (the pugilistic way of the hand conditioning you may find in my previous article about the Basics). All boxing strikes and punches which you practice in your gym are also good for the street fighting. The only thing to remember is that we shouldn’t use long series and combinations of strikes, just two or three strikes sequences: jab-cross, right cross-left hook and other basic boxing stuff. “The simpler – the better” is the main rule in the street.

Defensive means 

This is far more complicated thing. Let me remind you that there are two main reasons which make us choose our defenses very carefully:

There are no gloves in the street. 

The assailant can have concealed weapons which we haven’t noticed for some reason (bad lights, bad weather conditions and etc.) That can be different kinds of brass-knuckles, short knives, black-jacks or sappers.

Keeping in mind these two factors it is obvious that we can’t use “shield and cover” defenses because on the one hand our bare fists are too small to cover any significant area and on the other hand our cover won’t protect us from being hit by a black-jack for example.  So we should exclude these types of defense from our pugilistic training. But don’t worry; we still have tons of effective stuff down here.

First of all, it is all your boxing body movements. Slips, ducks, shoulder rolls and etc. are as good in the street as they are in the ring. Actually it’ll be even easier to evade small fists instead of big boxing gloves.
For the second, it is parrying. We can parry a strike, we can parry a knife thrust, and we can parry everything. 

For the third, it is blocking. Not very popular in the modern boxing blocking saved many lives in the old time prize fighting bouts. And once again, we can block everything be it a punch or a knife thrust. The rule is simple: shield and cover in the ring = blocking in the street. Interchange these techniques dependently. Some examples of blocking are present in the videos below.

Note: These videos are shot in a way that I don’t know what hand my partner will be striking with. We did this to show that blocking is a simple and spontaneous action. 

Thanks for your attention, 

See you! 

Pugilist’s Training Tips: Basics

This is a guest post from Oleg Fadeev (pictured below) who comes to us all the way from Nizhni Novgorod, Russia.

As we all know, the conditions of the street fight differ from the boxing bout ones, so today let’s talk about some common training peculiarities which helps us becoming not only a good boxer but a skillful pugilist as well.

image1First of all it is the most basic difference between boxing and pugilism – in the street there will be no tapes and gloves. That is why we should thoroughly condition our knuckles and wrists in order not to have an injury when defending ourselves. So, here are simple rules of the hand and wrist conditioning

Gloves are for the sparring only

It means that we should avoid using gloves working on the bags and pads. We can use tapes at the beginning, but we should aim at full power punching the heavy bag bare knuckled. The bag shouldn’t be very hard and it shouldn’t be very soft either. The thing is that we should feel how our knuckles dig into the target a little. Do not haste, begin with 20% of your strength and in course of time your fists will be as hard as a rock

Remember the goal and work out wisely

We can condition our fists and wrists during our workout routines as well. If you are doing push-ups, do them on your knuckles, not open handed. Also include different kinds of the wrist push-ups in your routines. The surface shouldn’t be too hard or too soft either. A wooden floor is the best variant, but a laminated one is also quite ok. DO NOT KNOCK WALLS OR OTHER HARD SURFACES WITH YOUR KNUCKLES!!! This way of hand conditioning is complicated and it demands a qualified instruction and supervision.

The second thing about gloves is that they are bigger in size than bare fists. It is significantly easier to defend against the punch wearing gloves, so if we are training for the street we should add some additional gear in our sparring sessions. I’d suggest using MMA gloves and helmets with a face shield from time to time.

Now let’s look on the environmental aspect of the fight. It happens so that we have to fight on different surfaces and in different circumstances, so we should get acquainted to possible battlefields. I’d suggest adding open air sparring sessions in our curriculum. It can be street, backyard, countryside etc. We should wear everyday garments and shoes, we should train in any season so we can use all pros and cons of different gear and weather conditions.

This was the basics of the pugilist’s training. Later on we’ll talk about other interesting things concerning boxing self-defense.

Best regards,


Pugilism: from the ring and to the street

This is a guest post from Oleg Fadeev (pictured below) who comes to us all the way from Nizhni Novgorod, Russia.


I have about 15 years of practice and teaching combatives and self-defense to different groups of people starting with military operatives and up to the civilian white collars, who were eager to be able to defend themselves and their loved ones. It is obvious that all these groups have different aims and different means of reaching their goals: a special forces quick killing at the theater of operations has nothing to offer to a common citizen in the weekend evening bar quarrel. So, now I’d like to focus on the civilian self-defense. 

There are many decent civilian self-defense systems, but I want to talk about the oldest European and American system – boxing and pugilism as its street application.

The fact is that boxing or pugilism has many pros related to the self-defense. We can divide it into the following categories: technical, physical, psychological and methodological. Let’s have a closer look on every one of them.


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Boxing is really simple. It has a rather small amount of techniques, which can be learned and trained during quite a short period of time. It is a valuable aspect for those who can’t spend a lot of time training, for those who should work for their living. Actually for self-defense we don’t have to spend years in the boxing gym. My personal experience shows that it is a matter of one year as the maximum. Certainly just one year of training won’t make a champion of a common person. This kind of training has a different goal: to give a person the means necessary to defend him, and a year is quite enough in this case.


Screen Shot 2015-05-12 at 6.20.50 PMBoxing is a complex kind of sport. Along with punches and defenses it has a necessary amount of physical training exercises to keep fit. Power, agility and stamina are developed simultaneously giving the pugilist a physical harmony, a highly appreciated quality since the times of the ancient Greece. 


Screen Shot 2015-05-12 at 6.22.39 PMThis aspect of boxing is really hard to overestimate. The pugilist always deals with different kinds of aggression. It is the aggression of the environment, when he should overcome his fatigue and become stronger than he was the day before. This habit to overcome obstacles and distribute the efforts is very applicable in everyday life. The pugilist is effective in the gym, he is effective doing his job, and he is effective keeping his house and family. The pugilist undergoes the consequences of the stress less often than the others. He actually faces it in the gym; he knows how to deal with it. The second type of aggression is the individual aggression. The pugilist faces the adversary in the ring or during a sparring. He throws punches and builds defenses against the extremely hostile being. He’ll meet the same thing in the street. He learns how to be really tough and how to use his mind at the same time. He eats punches and strikes back with more strength. He fights to his last breathe and never surrenders. It is a great lesson to be active under the circumstances, always look for the effective way of solving the problem.


Screen Shot 2015-05-12 at 6.23.47 PMBoxing has been developed in Europe and America for centuries and it was always connected either with recognition or with making money. So for years and years lots of coaches and fighters have been constantly improving each and every aspect of training to be more effective. As a result, boxing nowadays is the most well developed fighting system in the world. What it gives the pugilist? It gives him the assurance of the high quality training in any boxing gym or club. In any boxing gym we will see the most effective results of the centuries of research, so it is a guarantee that boxing will never be the loss of time and money.

Those were some of my thoughts on the topic. I’d always like to answer any questions and to discuss boxing and pugilism.

With my best regards, 


Restricted Punching

Daniel Avila

Daniel Avila

Chuck Horton has been training professional fighters for nearly 20 years and he is always looking to learn something new. He spends hours watching tape of his former boxers, his current boxers, and their opponents. He also spends a fair amount of time researching self-defense applications using the Art of Boxing. When he came across Daniel Avila’s video on the Internet Chuck Horton contacted Daniel Avila and asked permission to share his video. Here is the first of what Chuck Horton hopes to be many more collaborations between Daniel and Chuck.

Restricted punching is something that everyone training in self-defense should incorporate into his or her training. The purpose of restricted striking is to be able to generate power by punching from different positions that limit the use of your hips and legs forcing you to use other smaller muscles that you would not normally use to generate power. These drills are to be done from a conversation stance of 12 to 18 inches because this is the range that most all fights start at or end at. Being able to punch hard from a very close range is vital. 

Start off doing these drills with boxing gloves working towards performing them bare knuckle. Perform 6 to 8 hundred reps per arm. We are not looking to win a match by points we are looking to knockout our opponent. This article will teach you one punch stopping power. Musahsi the famous swordsman from ancient Japan would ask his students, “Why hit him with 2 or 3 strikes when we can finish him with one”? 

You want start off with the Right Cross from a conversation stance from a fenced position always using your lead hand as either a sensory tentacle, range finder, or action trigger touching your target than hitting keeping your hands and body relaxed each time you strike making sure to generate power through your feet to hips to shoulder than out through arm breathing with each strike, Next is the left cross once again working off a conversation stance at a very close distance kind of leaning to the side as if asking him a question once again using proper body mechanics using feet, hips, and shoulders to generate power not looking to go through the bag but more of a snap at the end of each punch. You want give everything you got in every single shot.

 Now we work on generating power from a kneeling position making a lot harder to build power due to lack of legs and hip movement which makes the body than adopt and look for other ways to find that power work on right, left cross and hooks than move on to seated position which starts to get a little harder because all the power is coming from your core and up. Next is lying on your back with your head under the bag or if you have a partner have him get in a mounted position holding up two focus mist while you punch up with random hits. Off of a chair this is actually a great way to build your speed, power and explosiveness. Last drill demonstrated is back against bag or could be a person holding pads turn around and bang with a right cross or left hook. Remember persistence is key, set a goal and stick to it your punching power will go up ten fold.

Author: Daniel Avila

Fight # 8: Making a Statement

After my quick knockout, victory felt pretty good. I came back to Duluth with a win under my belt and a fresh outlook on my boxing career. It felt good to win by knock out. I thought a little more about it and figured that’s what I’d shoot to do every fight from then on–knock out my opponent. If I stopped my opponent I wouldn’t have to deal with the judges. I was still bitter about my loss in Tacoma, WA, but the sting was starting to lessen. I used the remaining negative feelings from the loss and used it to push me even harder. 

The KO win felt good, but there was a part of me that still felt like I had unfinished business. I toyed around with the idea of a rematch with Robert Linton, but after digging into the logistics of making that match happen, it was clear that ship had sailed. I had to find a way to deal with my past without getting the opportunity to correct my history. Since I couldn’t remove the blemish or correct it with a later win I had to change the way I viewed it. I had a decision to make. Was I going to let it weigh me down as I continued to pursue flight into the boxing ranks or would I turn it into fuel to propel me further onward?  I chose the second option and I’m glad I did.  My new goal was to outperform the guy that beat me. If I couldn’t beat him in the ring, I would outperform him through other ways in boxing to show I was truly the better man. I wanted to finish better than Robert Linton. My record was at 6-1 5KO’s and Robert Linton’s record was 11-2 6KO’s after our fight.  My goal was to get past that mark without another blemish. I reworked my mindset surrounding the loss to turn it into motivation. After the win over Bogard I was back in the zone with all kinds of things I wanted to prove. I was reenergized.

Looking back, this was a good lesson to learn. Life can give us many disappointments. That’s just life, but learning how to deal with them in a healthy way is important or we will only hurt ourselves. The life skill of reframing a bad event into motivation has been a key in my resiliency over the years and it’s a skill I learned in boxing.

Chuck Horton could see my love for boxing was renewed and he wanted to harness it to bring out the most for my future fights

Chuck Horton could see my love for boxing was renewed and he wanted to harness it to bring out the most for my future fights

Chuck Horton could see my love for boxing was renewed and he wanted to harness it to bring out the most for my future fights. We had a meeting the week after the fight and discussed where to go next with my development. Chuck wanted me to get involved in a strength-training program to give me a better athletic foundation. He said, “Kid, you’ve always been a fighter first and an athlete second. To get to the next level we need to teach you how to be more of an athlete, not just a tough guy.” 

I couldn’t disagree. Prior to boxing, my only athletic involvement was a brief stint in 8th Grade Basketball. After that, it was only boxing. All I knew was to push myself in the gym so the fight would be easy. I did my roadwork because that’s what boxers did. I did my push-ups, abs, and pull-ups because that’s what I knew boxers did. I shied away from the weight room because I didn’t think that’s what made fighters. I thought it was all done in the gym. There are Old-School assumptions about boxing that say weight lifting will slow you down. Or that weight lifting will build muscle you don’t need. Not only that, but now as a seasoned professional boxer and accomplished amateur boxer I didn’t want to admit I didn’t know a thing about weight lifting.

It was time to swallow my pride. I accepted the assessment and asked what was next. Chuck Horton said he’d give it some thought and set me up with a local fitness coach somewhere. Enter Justin May, the head strength and conditioning coach for the UMD Bulldogs hockey team.  He had summer training program he was conducting called “Men Made By May” that started when the spring semester of college sports got out. The timing was perfect for me. I didn’t have a fight on the horizon, so I jumped right in. The “Men Made By May” camp was a 4-days a week program that split athletic development training between the track and the weight room. The group I jumped into was one composed of a bunch of talented high school hockey players. These kids were awesome! They were some of the cockiest little smack talkers I’d ever met, but they also loved to have fun and work hard at the same time. Everything was a competition to them and it was their eternal goal to beat me in everything they could. There was a learning curve to getting used to the regimens, but after I knew my way around I didn’t let them get away with much. These guys really grew on me and I started looking at them as a bunch of little brothers. Every day I had to compete to hold my position at the top.

So my days went as follows, 10:00-12:00 report to UMD Track and Field for work with Justin May; then 12:30 lunch followed by a quick stop to the beach for some volleyball and a quick swim. Then I’d make a break to get over to Horton’s Gym by 3:30 for boxing with Chuck Horton, which would bring me to 6:00 or so. Then I’d eat a little dinner and rest before I hit my evening run. I did this every day but Sunday. That day I slept in and went to church, followed by hanging out with friend, or catching a movie at the theater. Boxing was my life. I looked at every day as an investment into a business I believed in wholeheartedly. Me. I was investing in the career of “Jungle Boy”. I had started to learn about branding and learned that what I was doing was building a brand. I was the brand and the brand was I. 

That summer was also the time that Horton’s Gym moved out of my garage and into the space above the VFW in the West End of Duluth. The VFW was located in the middle of the block and the space above it hadn’t been used for a long while. A former gym member who thought the spot would be ideal discovered the space. Soon after that we were welcomed in to reemerge as Horton’s Gym back in the public eye and open for business. The space was nice and roomy and offered room to set up the ring surrounded by punching bags hanging from the rafters. New members quickly joined Horton’s Gym eager to learn boxing. For me this meant that I would have the opportunity to attract new sparring partners and as well as train in a more ideal boxing environment.

Spring semester was wrapping up for me at UMD and I was pushing hard to maintain my status at a Dean’s List Student. I was really into my studies. At this time I was a double major; Psychology and Criminology. I loved learning about how the mind worked and what social factors drove people to commit crimes. In a big way, my studies at UMD were general ‘case study’ on my own life. The more I learned in class the more I learned about myself and why I fell into the trap of having lived a criminal lifestyle. It was impossible not to diagnose myself and think my way in and out of the events of my past. I remember doing a lot of day dreaming while studying in the evenings. These days strengthened my character. 

Mid-week of finals, Chuck Horton gave me a call. We had been in touch daily and it was routine to get a call mid-way through my day. I caught the call walking from the library back towards the Kirby Student Center to grab lunch. He was excited! He said, “What are you doing? You busy? Free to talk?”… It was not like him to be chatty. He had a thing about only using “seven words or less” when talking on the phone. Chuck Horton liked to joke that phones were business use only and if we were to ever get stuff done we had to talk less and do more. Well after these questions he was already tapped out for words! I caught him up with my day and asked what was happening.

My adrenaline was racing. Chuck Horton told me the negotiations were almost wrapped up, but it looked like a sure thing if I wanted it.

My adrenaline was racing. Chuck Horton told me the negotiations were almost wrapped up, but it looked like a sure thing if I wanted it.

He replied, “How would you like to fight for the Minnesota State Title on TV?” My knee jerk response was “Heck Yea!! Who we going to fight?” Chuck filled me in.  He had just gotten off the phone with John Huffman who trained and managed Marty “Wolf man” Lindquist, 11-3 9KO. This fight was scheduled to air on Comcast TV throughout the Twin Cities. Marty Lindquist was a huge puncher and I was well aware of who he was. I had thought about fighting him earlier in my career because he was a potential match down the road, but thought that day would come later on. Marty Lindquist was a world-class kick boxer prior to getting involved in boxing. His reputation was a vicious puncher with a deadly right hand. Most of his knockout victories came in the first round and when those guys got knocked out they didn’t get up. My adrenaline was racing. Chuck Horton told me the negotiations were almost wrapped up, but it looked like a sure thing if I wanted it. 

I did. And a couple short days later I was signing a contract to box for the Minnesota Light Heavyweight Title. What a thrill! The match was set for September 11th, just three years removed from the tragic 9/11attacks. I couldn’t have asked for a better fight to follow my comeback fight. This match would surely satisfy my hunger for recognition. This would be the day I would show everyone what I was made of.

That summer, my training took a whole new seriousness. As I transitioned to becoming more of an athlete through the work with Justin May’s summer program I also saw my boxing skills taking major strides. My hand speed was improving. My reactions were getting faster and my footwork and balance were the best they’d ever been. In the gym as I pushed through Chuck Horton’s demanding training routines I could see that even though the work load was increasing I was able to keep up and stay ahead of the curve.

Then there was my punching power. My punches were landing harder than they ever had. My hands started to hurt and I’d walk around during the day with a dull pain in my palms. Typing my papers for school was tough too as my hands seemed to cramp up after a short while. I looked up hand and grip strengthening workouts as well as added a full sponge on each hand a knuckle guard. 

There were two exercises that helped my hands the most. One was the “News Paper Drill” and the other was plunging my hands into a bucket of rice. For the News Paper Drill I would take full pages of newspaper in each hand and crumple them up till they were little balls of paper in my hands. Then I would grip the ball of paper ten times and hold the 10th time followed by 10 wrist rolls each way. I’d go through two to three pages for each hand. The Rice Bucket was a process of diving my hands one at a time into a 5 gallon bucket of rice, gripping the rice, opening my hand wide and lifting it out flat. I did those for reps of 20 for 5 sets. There was a corner of the gym there was a giant stack of Sunday papers and a rice bucket.  It was a messy corner, but it was where I got my hands back in order. I didn’t want to punch lighter to spare my hands so my hands had to get with the program! 

When August came, Chuck had me go down to the Twin Cities a couple times to get sparring over the weekends, and then my sponsor paid for a trip out to Brockton, Massachusetts to get sparring out there. I got to put in work at the Petronelli Gym where Marvin Haggler trained and also in the very gym that Rocky Marciano trained in. I was in the very places that Hall of Famers trained and I felt the greatness of these two legends rub off on me. 

The sparring was second to none and better than anything I could come up with here in Minnesota. Also, I felt more comfortable out there to take risks in sparring, as I was ever suspicious of the onlookers and potential boxing gossip here in Minnesota. I was paranoid that people where secretly plotting against me and wanted to see me lose. I think I was half right, but who knows. Anyway, that August really built my confidence in the fight. I couldn’t have felt more confident.

The next week was spent catching up with Chuck Horton about all I had learned in my sparring portion of camp and solidifying a game plan for winning the fight. We hit a lot of mitts and worked through every fight scenario possible, including the event of getting hurt in the fight. That was a real possibility. In the closing days of training camp I felt destined for greatness. I kept telling myself that if I planned to be a world champion I had to beat boxers like The Wolf man. 

The day before leaving for the fight I had my bags packed early. I felt restless. I needed to do something, but didn’t want to do a full-blown workout. My mind was racing through the fight plan. I could visualize hitting and getting out of the way from the massive punch of Marty Lindquist, but then there was still the memory of my battle in Tacoma with Robert Linton. Those thoughts flashed in here and there, derailing my focus. As the hours eked on I started to have questions about my ability to be successful. Why was this! I didn’t get it.  I wanted to get my mind right so I drove over to UMD to ask the janitor to open the old wrestling room where there was a wall mirror across two of the walls. It was a place I’d used to shadowbox in the past. I spent a good hour punching my way through the fight plan. I was a sweaty mess when I left, but I felt much better. The next day it was all fight business so this was it. I went home and rested till we left the next day.

The weigh-ins for the fight was held a Spiker’s Bar in Anoka, MN. The bar had a huge indoor area that was used for year around volleyball, but on the agenda this weekend was Pro Boxing. There was no press or fanfare at the weigh in. Instead it was a small group of folks connected to the event along with the commission and promoter. Marty Lindquist was waiting for my arrival in a separate room, but when it was time to weigh in he came out. He was bigger than I figured, but just as scary looking as he looked on the fight poster. I smiled and shook his hand firmly. This was no place to show nerves, but I didn’t want to be a jerk about it either. That was never my style. Instead I chose to goof off.

When Marty got on the scale I shouted “Dang Marty! You are bigger than I thought, but much scarier in person than I ever imagined! I’m glad you look scary, because every day when I got up to run in the dark of morning I put your scary face by my light switch so the first thing I saw was your scary face looking at me. ‘Yep…that’s why I’m running. I have a werewolf to fight.’” He grinned and I laughed. I stepped on the scale to do my thing and when the commission read my weight I did a muscle pose that mocked what he looked like on the fight posters. The only difference was I looked funny doing it because I didn’t have the build Marty had. Those in attendance had a good laugh. Marty and I posed for a face off and then we split our separate ways. 

The next day came quickly and the hours rolled by like minutes. I slept in late and rested on my hotel room bed till it was time to leave for the fights. We arrived at Spiker’s Bar and patrolled through the venue to find our dressing room area. We found our way to a large bullpen type area on the crowd floor separated by large rolling walls from the fan’s chairs. There were assorted clusters of chairs that were set up as the opponent side locker room area; “The B-Side” as some would like to call it. There was nothing private or glamorous about it. The other boxers in the bullpen looked lost and nervous. Overlooking the bullpen was a long window.  Behind it was the “A-Side” dressing area. I realized this when I looked up to see Marty Lindquist staring down at me. He had a haunting silhouette made from the bright lights behind him contrasted with the darker arena area. It seemed like Marty Lindquist never left the window. It bugged me a bit, but I thought back to all the training I did for the fight and thought to myself; ‘this guy has no idea what’s about to happen to him.”  I was very confident in my ability to do whatever necessary to win the fight. I didn’t know how much it would take, but I was ready for a test.

The crowd filled in and the show began. One at a time the boxers from the bullpen would warm up, head out to the ring to fight, and then come back beaten and bloody. Then they would slump into a chair in some corner of the bullpen. The pain in their faces said it all. They were hurting. As a young pro, being in this environment as you prepare for a tough challenge can damage your confidence. Chuck Horton noticed this and told me to turn my chair to the wall. He looked me in the eye and said, “They aren’t you.” I smiled with a nod and brought my mind back to my fight plan. We then sat and wrapped hands.  It was almost time to warm up.

Finally it was my turn. Chuck Horton cleared a space in the bullpen floor to hit mitts. I shadowboxed a bit to loosen up and noticed Marty Lindquist was back in the window. Chuck Horton saw this and instructed me to turn my back to him while we warmed up. “Forget about him. He’s got to warm up too. If he doesn’t he’ll be sorry he didn’t.” Chuck was right. I looked up to the window while I was getting gloved up and noticed he was gone now.  My hands felt tight in the gloves. They were brand new gloves. This was a championship fight! I crushed some combinations with Chuck Horton and went through our game plan. We also covered the tendencies Marty Lindquist was known for. The main focus here was to avoid his right hand at all costs! He had a huge right hand that could knock a wall down. 

We walked to the ring first. The crowd roared and cheered as I walked out. The sound of “Welcome to the Jungle” echoed around the room. As I neared the ring a row of fans lined the aisle to give me a solid send off to the steps of the ring. I stepped in and took a lap around to get a feel for the ring space. It was a good size ring, which I felt was to my advantage because I visualized myself needing space to avoid Wolman’s attacks. Marty entered the ring to a similar fan reaction. ‘Here we go.’  I thought.  Marty looked even bigger than he did at weigh-ins. It was a sure case of man against boy in there. I liked the feeling of being the underdog this night. I believed that wining this fight would excuse that loss and put me back in the conversation as a promising pro. 

The bell rang and the fight was on. I circled Marty Lindquist with jabs and picked my opportunities to land combinations. Marty stalked me and tried to cut the ring off so he could clobber me with his giant right hand. It was obvious what he was trying to do, but it was harder to prevent than I anticipated. Mid way through the round Marty threw a jab to my face followed by a right to my body. It hurt. It felt like a person jumping on my belly while lying down. It was very unpleasant and there was no way I wanted to feel that again. I turned it up and started throwing more punches to regain control of the round. We mixed it up a bit.   I was able to land a few good shots, but nothing like the big one I took. ‘Bing, Bing.’ The round was over.

I went back to the corner to get water and instructions from Chuck Horton. I felt good about the round. I thought there was a chance I won the round, but knew I needed to show more to beat a boxer in his home town. Chuck Horton wanted me to keep up my lateral movement to prevent Wolfman from getting his feet set to hit with power and look for counter punches when he loaded up his right hand. The ‘tap tap tap’ of seconds out sounded through the room and it was time for round two. 

I once again stayed on my jab to keep Marty Lindquist at bay. We circled each other jabbing away to set up our punches. I could see my back was nearing the ropes and before I could adjust my footing Wolfman came charging in with a double jab to my face followed by a massive right hand to the body. I blocked the jabs and then blocked the right to my body with my elbow, but blocking with my elbow almost hurt as much as getting hit in the gut. My arm throbbed as I circled away. Then right away, almost out of instinct, Marty Lindquist charged in again with a double jab. I braced for the body punch again, but his right hand sailed high instead. The punch caught me directly across the jaw and knocked my mouthpiece out boomeranging into the crowd! The scene was dramatic as my head flung sideways and my mouthpiece flew, but to my pleasant surprise I was not hurt. Chuck Horton raced through the chairs desperately searching the floor for my mouthpiece. Some fans found it and pointed it out to Chuck. I looked over to the neutral corner where Wolfman was waiting to resume the fight. I saw him smiling and entertaining a cluster of crazy fans that had rushed the ring to cheer him on. Chuck Horton rinsed my mouthpiece and put it back in my mouth. The ref walked me over to the opposite neutral corner of Wolfman and called the fight back into action. Wolfman rushed across the ring. As he galloped over, I saw his right hand was cocked. It was a moment that seemed to be in slow motion even though it was milliseconds. I charged at him as well and when we met in the middle, I took a quick step to my left and threw my right hand hard as I could at Wolfman’s face. Wolfman’s punch missed and mine caught him square on the button. 

The result was tremendous! Wolfman’s head flew back so far he appeared decapitated as my punch drifted through. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him crumble into a pile. He was down! He was hurt! I just flattened Wolfman! I threw my hands up and screamed at the crowd as I walked to the neutral corner. I turned around to look at Wolfman and saw that he had gotten up, but the ref was holding him up with one arm and waiving the fight to a close with the other. I turned around and jumped up on the ring buckles with one hand in the air and screamed again!! The people were all on their feet and screaming with me. The place went absolutely wild! 

I looked over to see Marty stagger back to his corner of the ring with assistance from the ref and his corner men. I jumped down and went over to thank him for the match. Marty smiled and said, “Nice shot kid.” I thanked him again for the fight and I went back to celebrating. By this time friends and fans looking to celebrate with me were rushing the ring. My brother Jake climbed in the ring and said “Get on my shoulders. Let’s go!” I didn’t think twice about it. I jumped on with my new state title belt secured around my waist and took a few victory laps around the ring with my hands in the air!

That was one of the happiest moments of my life. Right there in the ring on my brother’s shoulders. The feeling was like a dream being lived out. I was a champion! 

Many of my extended family and distant friends were there to cheer for me. They had supported me all along and this was a big victory for them too! I didn’t want to leave the ring. It was my magic place. The place I defied the naysayers and beat the guy they thought was going to whoop me. I felt like I validated my supporters with the win. Now that I was the State Champion I stood out as the best. 

The night wrapped up with a long-standing boxing tradition with my family; a late dinner at Perkins Restaurant topped off with milk shakes!  We had started going out after the fights since I was an amateur boxer. It was nice to sit with family and a few close friends after my fights to recap the night. I was still on Cloud 9. You couldn’t wipe the smile off my face.

Sacred Site – Throwback Thursday

IMG_6795Have you ever walked on ground that made feel a little spooked? Or perhaps you got the feeling that you were being watched. I have experienced these feelings on the Border between North Korea and South Korea, which is referred to as the DMZ. I was doing combat patrols along the DMZ while serving in the U.S. Army. Once when I was acting as point man for our patrol team, I came across burial mounds. I halted the patrol and our assistant patrol leader; Brett Pew came up to my location to analyze how to go around this sacred site. In Korea the dead are traditionally buried under mounds standing upright in specially made coffins made with six planks of wood. The fact that the corpses face south did not go unnoticed by me and the irony of this situation created made me mindful of just how serious the mission was. We maneuvered around the burial mounds partially out of respect but also out of fear of minefields, David Rivas are Korean cultural expert and Veteran of many Combat patrols on the DMZ briefed us on the danger of walking through the mounds.

David Rivas, DMZ expert

David Rivas, DMZ expert

After we moved around the sacred site and laid out for the night ambush, I glanced back at the mounds and the illumination from the moon made them appear even more ominous. After returning from our patrol and being debriefed I talked with Brett Pew and David Rivas-Cortez in more detail about how these mounds gave me a weird feeling and they both agreed with me. When our 90 days on the DMZ was up I sought out our base barber Ms. Choi in order to learn more about Korean culture and burial customs. Ms. Choi explained that the reason that I felt uneasy about walking through that burial site on the DMZ was that there were no children of the deceased to honor the burial mounds, which is customary in Korean culture.

IMG_2093Ms. Choi and I made arrangements and went to a Buddhist Temple south of the Korean Border and made offerings in honor of those that are buried in the DMZ and have no one to memorialize them.

The Common Types of Violence

Before teaching any of my “Art of Boxing” students how to fight I first teach them first how to avoid a fight. The second thing is how to escape from a bad situation before violence occurs if possible. The third thing on my list is how to use verbal dissuasion if the first two steps have failed. The last resort is what I call a pre-emptive strike once violence is imminent and you are afraid for your life. This is the key to surviving a street confrontation in the Real World. 

Long-time boxing coach and self-defense instructor, Chuck Horton talks about the various types of violence one may encounter

Long-time boxing coach and self-defense instructor, Chuck Horton talks about the various types of violence one may encounter

Read the first paragraph a few times and let it sink in. I know that some of those reading this will have a hard time with the pre-emptive strike portion. Let me ask you this, “Do you think that someone who has not allowed you to escape and who will not listen to reason will not hit you first? That this person screaming profanity and making threats while their face is turning purple is not about to hit you”? If you answered yes to either of those two questions please stop reading this article. I think you should bookmark this site and then go do a quick “Google Search” and do a bit of research on violence in the real world. When you are done with your search please come back if you are so inclined.

Sexual Predators

The worst and most evil type of violence is the type used to harm women and children. It is all our responsibility to prevent women and children from being harmed. The predators amongst us most be stopped and locked away where they can never harm an innocent person again. Level three sex offenders are more than likely to harm others again and have to be monitored at all times. I live in the City of Duluth in the State of Minnesota and level three offenders are constantly being released in my community.

Random Attacks

People have been assaulted in violent confrontations since the beginning of time. If you did your Google search you might have come across a link to the latest and most grotesque modern trend that is sweeping the Country called “The Knockout Game” where random punks sucker punch some random stranger to see if they can knock them out. 


The dreaded “Physical Bully” the type that pushes and hits people that they perceive as easy targets. The type that make younger kids cringe when they see them walking down the hall or at the park when there are no adults around to help deescalate violence.

The dreaded “Physical Bully” the type that pushes and hits people that they perceive as easy targets.

Bullying has many forms and I have addressed these forms in one of my three sites. In this article I want to address a different type of bullying. The dreaded “Physical Bully” the type that pushes and hits people that they perceive as easy targets. The type that make younger kids cringe when they see them walking down the hall or at the park when there are no adults around to help deescalate violence.

Matched Fighting

Boxing is a matched typed fight in which two boxers of the same weight and ability are matched and placed in enclosed space where a referee officiates to help prevent the fight from getting out of hand. When I was a kid there were matched fights in the neighborhood that I grew up where the older kids would make sure no one got what we called a “West Duluth Boot Party.” (This is where when one person hits the ground they get stomped). Sometimes the parents would even officiate to make sure it was a fair contest and didn’t get out of hand. The social norms were different in those times and Adults let kids learn that life was tough and you had to stand up for yourself. Those days are gone and we live in a much different world. You still see matched fighting today but the rules have changed. People jump in and some will lay the boots to a downed opponent. In the next article I will cover Avoidance, Escape, and De-escalation. Once those are covered in some detail I will cover some solid and simple Pre-Emptive Strikes.

If you have some interest in learning “The Art of Boxing” check out our website . Our Boxers have had great success in the ring. Our philosophy is to teach are students not only how to box, but how to be a member of society.  

Fight 7: Jumping Back In – Zach Walters

My first loss hurt my confidence. I wasn’t that I didn’t believe in my ability to fight, it was this feeling of letting everyone down that had believed in me up to that point. ‘Was I really cut out to be a world champion?’ I thought. Before the call from Chuck Horton regarding a comeback plan, my mind was blank. I was simply going through the motions of life without any real ambition.

After my final class at UMD that day I flew home to the garage to meet Chuck Horton. When I walked in the back door of the garage Chuck Horton was already inside pacing around while talking on the phone. He looked up with a shark’s grin to acknowledge my arrival and continued talking on the phone. After he hung up he said; “Kid, we go you another fight!” I was thrilled.

The phone call Chuck had just hung up with was a call with Jesse Garza. Jesse had a show coming up only 2 weeks away at The Grand Casino in Hinkley, MN! This casino was just a short one hour drive down from Duluth. The business arrangement was a small percentage of tickets sold. In the end, it was a two way favor between me and Jesse Garza. A 6-round fight was on the table and I knew I could sell a bunch of tickets so I wasn’t concerned there. Not only that, but my fight was slated as the Co-Main Event of the night! What a great opportunity. I knew it was a tall order to throw together a fight in short notice like this. Chuck Horton must have really pulled some strings. I had plenty of motivation. I wanted very badly to rid myself of the sour taste of losing my last fight. Making money was not high on my list at this point. Getting back in the ring to show I was better than my last fight.

I raced around Duluth with an envelope full of tickets filling seats at my next fight. In a short time had turned the envelope of tickets into an envelope full of money. I knew only a small portion was mine, but I didn’t care. I understood what the fight was for and I wanted to get as many people to the fight as I could. I wanted show them what I could do. At this time, I didn’t know who my opponent, but with the limited time available to make a fight happen I didn’t care. I was willing to fight anyone.

With tickets sold and a week to go I found out my opponent, Wayne Bogard from Kokomo, IN. My first thought was ‘Who the heck is Wayne Bogard?!” I did my research and found out my information on him. He had ten fights but hadn’t won since his pro debut. He had a string of 9 consecutive losses…. A 1-9 boxing record. What a terrible record. Boxers like Wayne Bogard can be spoilers to fight. They have terrible records but have faced good opposition along the way so if they wanted to could draw on experience to make problems. Bogard had lost by the decision and only once had been stopped in the first round. I quickly saw my responsibility as having to deliver a beating to this guy like nobody had done prior. I had to whack this guy out faster than the boxer that stopped him in one round. Sure he’d lost, but I wanted to stand out so I had to be impressive; nothing else. I needed to look good so I devised a thrashing game plan with a pedal to the floor type mentality. I wanted this guy out of there and I wanted to do so quickly.

Jesse Garza came down to the lobby to meet me. He sauntered over with the swagger of a major player. He was casually dressed, but I knew he was the one running the show so I showed respect

Jesse Garza came down to the lobby to meet me. He sauntered over with the swagger of a major player. He was casually dressed, but I knew he was the one running the show so I showed respect.

The weekend of the fights was upon us. I drove down to Hinkley to meet with Jesse Garza before the weigh-ins. Chuck Horton stayed back that night with plans to meet up on fight day. I got to the casino and ventured my way over to the hotel front desk to call Jesse Garza. The air was full of cigarette smoke and the noise of slot machines. I hadn’t been in the Grand Casino before so this was all new to me. I thought people couldn’t smoke indoors. This was obviously not the case here. Jesse Garza came down to the lobby to meet me. He sauntered over with the swagger of a major player. He was casually dressed, but I knew he was the one running the show so I showed respect. We went back to his hotel room and settled upon tickets sold. My remaining portion of the money was just a little more than enough to cover my travel expenses for the weekend. Jesse Garza gave me a few buffet vouchers to help with my meals and that was that. He was impressed with the amount of tickets sold and I was happy for the opportunity.

Following our meeting I checked into my hotel room and went down to the casino floor to find out where the weigh-ins would be. The casino didn’t have the new ballroom addition they have now. There was a hall that hooked left after passing through the poker tables that led to a decent sized conference room where the fights would be held and across the hall were two dressing rooms. One was used for the weigh-ins. I saw a few familiar faces there and felt the welcome of being around fellow boxing folks. The scene was a cluster with little organization. The commissioner had flown in from Colorado but was a familiar face in the MN Boxing scene since there weren’t any local commissions at the time. It was a one-man show; just a single commissioner there from out of state to regulate everything.

I scoped out the room and laid eyes on a boxer about my weight. He was introverted backwoods looking fella dressed in as classic red flannel and blue overalls. He also wore a super thick glasses on. His eyes looked like the kind goldfish have when he stared back at me. When I was sizing him up he looked at me and tried to make a mean face, but the look of his eyes behind the thick lenses of his glasses made him look more comical than scary. It was like a scene of the comic pages of the Sunday paper. Anyway, he was there with another boxer from Indiana who looked about the same weight so I figured one of them was Mr. Bogard.

My mentality was to aim for a KO in each of my future fights to seal the victory. No more letting the judges dictate the future of my career

My mentality was to aim for a KO in each of my future fights to seal the victory. No more letting the judges dictate the future of my career

First to the scale was the main event. This was JJ Corn and incidentally vs the other guy from Indiana. That left the backwoods fella as Wayne Bogard. We walked to the scale and he kept his mugging stare. He was put together better than I had assumed. He was actually kinda ripped. Under his flannel and overalls was a well-conditioned body fight for a fighter. I was in good shape too so this only made sense. After all, it was a co-main event. Wayne Bogard didn’t break character throughout the weigh-ins which let me think he may be a pain to fight the next day. Then I reminded myself of his record and my responsibility in the ring the next day. I quickly snapped out of it and got back to thinking straight. There was no way I was going to let this guy steal my show. No way! I was there with one thing on my mind; the redemption of my record and getting a win behind me. Period. “Wayne Bogard looks well prepared? Good. I’ll have even more fun.” That was my mindset.

The next day I met Chuck Horton in the hotel lobby. I filled him in on my observations of my opponent from the day before and we made plans on how the day would play out. It was always important to have a plan all the way to the ring to fight. No surprises. With no questions about the day, I had mental space to focus on my fight. No, questions.

Before I knew it I was in the dressing room getting my hands wrapped and warming up to fight. The night was going fast and there were only 5 fights on the card. As I punched the air to warm up I shadow boxed my game plan for the fight. I had prepared myself to demolish my opponent in each round of the fight till he was out. If it took one round. Good. If it took two or three rounds. Fine. My plan was to keep the fate of my fight out of the hands of the judges. My mentality was to aim for a KO in each of my future fights to seal the victory. No more letting the judges dictate the future of my career.

Then it was time for my ring walk and we were off. The familiar music of “Welcome to the Jungle” by Guns ‘n Roses filled the air and I felt more alive than ever. We made the quick walk across the hall to the conference room and through the room to the ring. Wayne Bogard was in the ring mugging at the fans and then at me as I neared the ring. I was lit up. I wore a mischievous smirk into the ring. There was a good amount of fans there to see me. It was a nice reception for my first fight back in MN since the three fights in Tacoma, WA. During the introductions, I noticed Wayne taking his stance a few times. He stood very square. I though “Uppercut”. I was always looking for clues on my opponents as I entered a fight. How they walked. Their posture. Everything they did was like a window into what to expect. I took note of my final observation and waited the start of the round.

“BING! BING!” The bell rang to start the first round. I rushed to center ring. Soon as we met Wayne Bogard threw a lunging jab to start the fight. I took a fast side step to my right of his jab and launched a wicked right uppercut up the middle. The shot caught him clean in the throat. Wayne Bogard staggered back to the ropes choking in pain as he tried to catch his breath. Rushed after him and led my next combination with a lead right uppercut to his body followed by a left hook to the head. Wayne Bogard had not yet gathered himself from the opening exchange when I caught up to him. The uppercut doubled him over and the left hook took him off his feet as his head spiked into the canvas. The ref stepped in to deliver an 8-count and Wayne Bogard valiantly decided to continue, but it was not a good idea. I rushed across to finish things. I didn’t let him leave his corner. I was right on him like a nightmare. I twitched a faint which froze him enough for me to land a final right-left-right combination to his head. Wayne Bogard bent forward and staggered back in a daze. I shuffled up and once again through a hard packed right uppercut. This time it caught him right in the mouth and nose, and I don’t know if the pain made him jump or if it was the punch that landed just right, but Wayne Bogard’s feet left the floor like I launched him off his feet when I hit him. He flew back at an angle with his butt leading the way through the ropes. Most of his body fell through the ropes, but his knees caught on the middle rope and one of his arms tangled the upper rope enough to save him a trip onto the judges table. When this ref saw this he ran at Wayne Bogard waving one hand in the air to stop the fight while extending the other to help Wayne get back into the ring. That was it. BAM! Mission complete! TKO at 1:18 of Round-1. That stands to this day as the fastest anyone has dispatched Wayne Bogard. I made the statement I wanted to make and separated myself from the others that had beaten him. That was my goal and I did it. What a good feeling!

I ran across the ring and jumped on the ropes in the corner and threw a glove into the air in victory. I got a standing ovation from the crowd. Boy was I happy! The friends and fans that had come to support me filled the aisle as I walked back to my dressing room. I was back! I was a hit and I felt the feeling I loved so much. ‘Victory’! At that moment, I didn’t care what was next. I was a winner.

Author: Zach Walters

My Bully Story – Zach Walters

“I’ve never knew this story about Zach and the information below is completely new to me. It’s a very powerful story, and it has now become clear to me what drove Zach to work so tirelessly.”

– Chuck Horton

All the reading I have been seeing on social media and the news about bullying in today’s schools has brought back memories about my younger years of getting bullied. Those memories aren’t fun to think on, but maybe if I share them you can find some hope for yourself. As you can see, I am typing this so it all worked out in the end. Below is my bully story from start to finish.

The early days of my childhood where spent on the island of Madagascar in a good home with loving parents and three siblings. I have an older brother, a younger brother, and younger sister. Life on Madagascar was simple and it was a life I understood from an early age.  I was into being in the wild and connected to nature. I enjoyed hunting, fishing, and hiking around as much as I could. I had a pet parrot that rode around on my shoulder. It was an easy life and I liked it. Then my family ran into some tough decisions and had to move to US.

I thought the move would be temporary. “How could we ever live in the US the rest of our life?” I thought. As the weeks turned to months and months to years I realized we were not going back. These days were a struggle for me on many levels.

She told me it was not ok to climbing trees and if I climbed trees again I would get in trouble. I didn’t tell her I was actually trying to hide from the kids that picked on me.

“She told me it was not ok to climbing trees and if I climbed trees again I would get in trouble. I didn’t tell her I was actually trying to hide from the kids that picked on me.”

I was 12 years old then. I was new to the US Public Schools. The atmosphere was not kind and welcoming like I thought it would be. I was clueless to say the least. When we moved from Madagascar it was the middle summer there.  February was the middle of summer in the southern hemisphere, but winter time in St Paul, MN. I was “fresh off the boat” from Madagascar and couldn’t feel more out of my element. I never liked the cold. In school I was in 5th grade, but I was older than the kids in my class due to being held back the year earlier. I was awkwardly taller than the others in my class so it added to my standing out.

I didn’t know much about fitting in or other social rules with kids in the States.  I was clueless. I thought being from Madagascar would be a cool thing, but it was not. It made me different.  I remember at lunch time I wanted to hang with the 6th graders because I thought I could relate a bit more to them Du to being closer in age. The trouble was labeled a 5th grader despite my age. I had to sit at the 5th grade table. When I tried to hang with the 6th grade kids after eating it didn’t go well. They told me to go away; sometimes not very nicely. I didn’t like feeling of being rejected so I chose to walk the snowy borders of the school yard till the bell rang to go inside.

I was a loner and wanted to make friends in the worst way. I talked with kids here and there who asked questions about where I was from and what not, but not much else. This was when the jokes and taunts started. It was mild at first as the kids got to know me. Then after I opened up a bit more kids started using it against me. “Go climb a tree bush whacker”…  I remember hearing being yelled at me one day as I walked the yard. I looked over at the group of kids who all thought it was pretty funny. I didn’t do anything; just kept walking. The days that followed got worse. I had snow balls thrown at me by the group. I hated the snow and the cold got colder. I never got hit hard enough to be hurt, but knowing kids were throwing stuff at me because I was a loner new kid was eating at me. 

One day I remember trying to hide up in a tree. I thought I would be safe there till the bell rang. I was not hidden well, but figured walking the grounds led to taunts and snowballs thrown at me so a tree would be safer. I was wrong. I maybe stood out more now that I was in a leafless winter tree. The kids found me and actually drew a little crowd. The ones that had me picked from before started hurling some comments to make fun of me. Then there were a few that threw snow balls and ice chunks up at me. I just tried to ignore them. They were not a good throw anyway and I knew they would leave me alone sometime because lunch time was short. The bell rang and they left. As I climbed down a teacher saw me and walked over scolding me for climbing the tree. “What were you doing up there? You could fall and break your neck…” I told her I was trying to catch a squirrel that had darted into a leave nest.  She told me it was not ok to climbing trees and if I climbed trees again I would get in trouble. I didn’t tell her I was actually trying to hide from the kids that picked on me.  

I then tried sitting on the steps by the front door where everyone lined up to go inside. I wanted to be as close to indoors as possible. My butt froze on the steps those days, but the taunting group of kids left me alone when I was there. Maybe it was because I was close to the office windows where staff could see them. I don’t know. 

A few days later the same kids that taunted me in the field invited me to play a game with them and a large group of other kids. It was a game I had watched them play before; “Red Rover Red Rover”. The game was set up with two big lines of kids linked by the elbows. The goal was to call out a kid from the other side to run into the line on the other side. The goal was to break the chain. If the chain was broken the winning side got to steal a person from the other to grow their side. If the chain held that team would gain a player.  This exchange would go back and forth till one side took all the players from the other they won. OK, so here I go. Here was my opportunity to earn some friends. All I have to do is hold on or break through the other side if I’m called on. I can do that. 

“Red Rover Red Rover send Steven right over…” a girl on my team called out.  Steven (Not his real name) was one of the kids from the group that picked on me. He was kind of the leader. Steven came running across the divide and right at me. I gripped my elbows tight to do my part and hold on. Instead of hitting my elbows he barreled his shoulder right into my stomach. My arms were gripped tight by the other kids and I was hit dead in the guts. I wasn’t ready for a hit in the belly and the wind got knocked out of me. I crunched to the ground gasping for air. I was in shock. He laughed hard and loud. Almost like a fake laugh. The other kids joined in snickering along with him. 

“Come on squirrel boy. You gotta hold on better than that if you’re going to play with us.” Steven said. I was still painfully trying to catch my breath. I choked back my tears of pain and nodded my head. Steven picked a person to grow his team’s line. Then it was their turn to call one of my team over. I was ready if they called me. They called did call me. 

“Red Rover Red Rover send ‘Madagascar boy’ right over.” It was a nick name I had been called in the before. I didn’t like it, but whatever. It was my turn to run across and break the chains. I knew I could do it. I ran across the divide right at Steven. I wanted to get him back for nailing me good and I was also tired of all his crap. Right as I was going to smash into his arms he said “phantom chains”, which was some trick wording rule he made up, and let go right where I was trying to hit. 

I went sailing past and clumsily fell onto the frozen ground. The kids laughed at me. I was embarrassed. I knew now these kids weren’t trying to be my friend. They were using me for a joke. I got up with tears in my eyes. I didn’t want them to see them so I turned away and started walking. They called me back to keep playing, but I just walked. I was confused on the game and confused on why they were being mean to me. ‘Was “phantom chains” a real rule? If not then why didn’t the kids on my side challenge the rule.’ They must have been in on the joke.  

When I was a safe distance away I asked; “Why are you guys being mean to me.” This was mainly directed at Steven.

 “I’m not being mean. It’s how you play the game.” He answered.  

I knew this was a lie. I had never seen this rule, or the tackle, during the time I watched the game played from the steps. I couldn’t stop the tears this time. I turned away and walked toward the edge of the field. Here I thought I was finally getting some acceptance, but all it was really them trying to find a way to get away with hurting me. I started to feel deep anger well up.

I was deep in the field when bell rang to get back to class. I walked back toward the school slowly. I was very mad and didn’t know what to do about it. I was a good kid; a missionary kid. I just wanted to go back to Madagascar where I knew stuff. I wanted to go back where I knew how to be cool and accepted. The cold hell of Minnesota was not for me. 

On my way back in from the field a kid I never met walked up to me and asked why I was being such a baby. I can’t remember his name. He wasn’t part of the group from earlier. But he was like them. Mean. I didn’t answer right away. After his question he laughed and he kept pace with me walking toward the school. I couldn’t believe his nerve. 

Then I mumbled, “How would you feel if you were me.” 

“Huh? What you say? What? You tryin’ to get smart now?” He was grinning with a mean smile and got up real close. He put his face right in front of mine in with a sad clown face looking for an anser. At this very time I got an itch in my nose and sneezed. My sneeze sprayed all over. The kid pushed me stumbling off to the side.

“You think you can spit at me?!” he yelled. He looked fierce now. Not joking around.

“I didn’t. I sneezed.” I replied. No sooner did I say this and he snorted and spit a giant flem ball in my face. The flem ball hit the corner of my eye, nose and mouth.  Some got in my mouth. It was gross. It smelled like un-brushed morning breath. I didn’t cry. I just wiped it off and kept walking in. I felt numb. I had already cried my tears in the field and had none left. I wasn’t scared. I was at me breaking point.

“That’s right. Keep walking Africa Boy.” He said as we split to go in separate doors.

That was the worst lunch hour of my life at that time. After school it was time for the long walk back to the Mission Apartments. We would gather in lines by the cross walks and wait for our turn to walk through as a group. I stood in line about three deep from the front. A  kid pushed me from behind and made a comment about the Red Rover game from earlier. I turned around and without much thought pushed him back hard as I could. He stumbled back a bit in surprise and came back at me to push me again. As he got close I punched him hard as I could in the face. My little punch hit him square in the nose and blood exploded everywhere in the white snow around us! 

“What the heck” he said. “I thought we were playing around. Why did you hit me.” I just stood there, numb to the whole situation. Again, I was somehow in the wrong. A teacher came rushing over and took us to the office. The kid was quick to talk. “We were just paying around and he hit me.” I didn’t say anything. I was mad. I was fed up and felt like nothing could help. 

My mom got a call to come pick me up. I was broken inside and just sat there in a daze. I was so full of anger from this terrible day. I had all I could take. When my mom arrived to pick me up from school she had to meet with the principal and me. I tried to tell my story. But got choked up and distorted my points. I’m not sure if it made any sense at all.  

My consequence was ‘closed noons’ for three days. What a relief. This was actually a bonus because I got to stay warm instead of freeze n the step.  I didn’t care that I lost my mid-day freedom. I was also glad to be away from all those mean kids on the yard. After that bad day things died down a bit. My noon hours were lonely, but at least I wasn’t a target any longer. 

A few months went by and my folks decided to move to California. There was an apartment center in Fresno California for families transitioning from third world countries. It was the perfect fit for us. All of the family needed a little extra help and there was a counseling center there to help us through. We had a brief family meeting about the decision, but it seemed like a no-brainer. Of course we wanted to move to a warm place. I hated the snow and didn’t ever want to see the mean kids again. This would be a better place for us.

The move to California went fast.  Life there was not as easy as I had hoped. It was actually a bit harder, but at least I didn’t have to deal with the cold! I didn’t tell kids I was from Madagascar. Instead I told them I was from MN. I thought this was safer, but I was wrong. That made me un-cool because I guess California kids are where cool begins and Minnesota was not cool. OK. 

Then there was my first nick name. It wasn’t based on being teased about being from Madagascar. It was something far off. It came from the school milk. The school milk was from “Zacky Farms”. Bang! There you go. My name was now “Zacky Farms” and I couldn’t shake it. I asked kids not to call me that, but it didn’t work. Random kids would yell it from a distance when I would walk out to play for lunch time. I remember one day at the lunch table getting so angry about kids calling me names I hammered my fists onto the table and yelled, “STOP!!” 

A teacher came over and asked what asked what was happening. I told her the kids around me were making fun of me. She scholed the kids around me and then moved me the end of the table closer to where she was to keep an eye on me. I could hear a few of the kids whisper “Zacky Farms” and “Squealer” under their breath. Here I was again. I was the brunt of the jokes and couldn’t make a friend to save my life.

On kid in particular had my number, his name was “Bubba.” This was his nick name. I can’t remember his real name. He was a big kid. Way heavy for his age and height. He was a rolly polly tank of a kid that the other kids didn’t mess with because he was twice their size. Anyway, one day at noon hour I joined in a game of soccer. I could play as good, or better, than most the kids in school due to playing a bit in Madagascar. Soccer was a major sport in Madagascar and my basic understanding of the game helped me fit in a bit during noon. I would watch the game at play and figure out which team was down a few players or loosing then join in. 

One day I was doing my thing and joined a game. There was a time mid-game that Bubba was dribbling the ball down the field. He was not very coordinated and his skills were terrible, yet the other kids would let him through with the ball because they were intimidated. I matched up with his path and easily stole the ball with a few kicks. I ran the ball down the field and kicked a goal! I was pretty pumped for my team and turned around smiling. To my surprise the kids on my team didn’t look very happy. They instead looked scared. Right then before I knew it I got kicked from behind right between the legs. I dropped to the ground in shock before turning see who kicked me. It was Bubba.

There he was ten paces away laughing at me in my pain and embarrassment. I felt a rage seep down my spine. My stomach hurt and I felt like barfing, but the anger was more. I charged at Bubba and did a flying jump kick to his chest. I had learned this kick in Madagascar from scrapping with my buddies for fun after watching Bruce Lee movies. Anyway, the kick sent Bubba backward to the ground and I collapsed on top of him. I proceeded to pound his face in with my fists. There was a shadow of kids that gathered around us as I let it all out. It was quite a scene. All the anger I had build up from my time in Minnesota and now in my early days in California got taken out on Bubba. I kept smashing away at his face till I was restrained by a few teachers. We were taken to the office and got suspended for the rest of the week. I got in major trouble from my folks too. They were very disappointed with my actions. I tried to justify them by giving a history lesson about Minnesota kids and now California kids being rotten. My basic argument was ‘they don’t understand me’, but they didn’t buy it. There was no reason to fight at school. 

When I got back to school the next week a few kids talked to me. They were impressed that I stood up to Bubba. They asked where I learned to fight. I told them it was self taught from watching kung fu movies and rough housing with my brothers.  I didn’t see myself as any hero. I was just a kid that got fed up and blew up on Bubba. I didn’t care why these kids befriended me. I liked it. I finally had friends. One thing about these friends, though, was they like to get into mischief.  They had older brothers that were into gangs and we started to think of the four of us as a little gang. We didn’t make up a name or anything, but we each agreed to have each other’s back so if anything went down we could defend each other. This seemed fair to me. These were my first friends.  We got in to trouble for various minor issues till I was eventually expelled from school. This was 6th grade.

Then in 7th grade it was ‘welcome to middle school’. Kids were older and there was the pecking order of kids getting into gangs to force their way. One day I tripped a kid trying to budge in the lunch line with some of his gangster buddies. The kid stumbled a bit and turned around to punch me. Before he got his punch off I rained punches on him in a chaotic mess. 

I thought this would be like 6th grade where I got in one fight and made a few friends. I was wrong. I had major problems this time. I got suspended, but when I got back to school I had made my first real enemies. There were rumors about their gang plotting to kill me. This was real talk in Fresno and not to be taken lightly. Drive bys were big those days. When I walked home from school would continually stare in the windows of the cars driving to see if I could recognize any of them in the windows. I didn’t want to get shot. 

The death threats didn’t materialize, but I did get jumped after school a couple times. I remember sneaking my way home by jumping the fences to walk along the canals. Those were a safe bet. There were no cars to watch out for drive by shootings and the gangster kids didn’t know my secret get away.

 Finally, there was another gang that I somehow offended by ‘dissing them’ by wearing the wrong color belt on a walk. This was not at school, but over the weekend. These three kids went to my middle school and I knew about them from talk in the halls at school. They trapped in me along a fence and wouldn’t let me go till I gave up my blue belt. I took a couple punches to the face, before reluctantly giving them my belt. It wasn’t that bad, but it was embarrassing.  I figured after I gave them my belt I would be ok with these guys. I was wrong. There was one of the gangster kids that decided to carry thing on when he saw me at school. Ramon was his name. He was real mean. He was the one that punched me a few times over the belt. When he saw me in the hall the following week he made a point to start a problem. He wanted me to show some respect when I saw him coming. I didn’t know what he wanted me to do. Next thing I know I get decked in the face in front of a bunch of his ganger buddies. I didn’t understand this, but I knew I didn’t want to let it go any further. I needed to make it stop; how to do it was the question. 

 I figured I would have to get single him out and confront him one on one. I was confident in my ability to fight one on one with anyone at school. Getting jumped was the thing I had to watch out for. I made a violent plan to get back at him in the hallway the next day. I was planning to attack him by surprise when he didn’t see it coming. I figured if I beat him up one on one I’d get me respect back from him. I brought a little pocket knife along with to fend off his boys if they saw things go down and jumped in. My plan was set.  

I had one friend I trusted at the time. CJ was his name and we had first hour of class together. I told him my plan in confidence because I was anxious about what I was planning. During my second hour class I got called to the office. I didn’t know why this would be because I hadn’t done anything recently to be in trouble. After I stepped in I found out CJ had told the office my plans. He was afraid things would go too far if I carried out my plan. He was probably right. You don’t mess with a ganger kid without facing the after math. I was expelled from school that day due to a zero tolerance rule for weapons on school property. I was ticked off at the time, but for all I know, CJ saved my life.  Had he not told on me I may have done something really stupid which would ultimately put me on a short list for further gang retaliation.  AKA… being shot, stabbed, or seriously hurt in some way. 

"I didn’t want to do the things I did, but in my short sighted mind I didn’t see much of a choice."

“I didn’t want to do the things I did, but in my short sighted mind I didn’t see much of a choice.”

I went to home schooling for a few months and then got into another school across town. My problems didn’t stop there. Shortly after going to school there I joined a gang and shortly after that I wound up getting expelled from that school as well for bad behavior.  My 7th grade year was tough. I treated it like a battle field. I was continually on edge watching my back. I started to strike first when a kid got smart. In a way, I started turning into the kids I didn’t like.  I didn’t realize it till later in life. All in knew was it was a process of me trying to stand up for myself the best I knew how. I didn’t want to do the things I did, but in my short sighted mind I didn’t see much of a choice.

After my seventh grade year my folks had enough of Fresno California and decided to moved back to Minnesota. I wasn’t the only one having a tough time out there. Our whole family was in a rut. We moved to a tiny town called Erhard, MN  (population 167) and lived on a farm. After living in a 400,000+ population city Erhard, MN felt like another culture shock to me. I took my social lessons from California and applied them right away in school. Since Erhard was so small my siblings and I went to school in nearby town called Pelican Rapids. 

I didn’t want another disaster episode in school so I tried to play it cool. I tried my best not to cause waves.  I made a few friends and we caused some playful mischief, but nothing too bad at first. Then I started taking it too far. The lessons I learned in Fresno didn’t apply in small town MN. Getting respect by making the others fear me was not ok. The class mates in my grade were not the issue. It was the students in the several grades above me that brought a problem. Being an 8th grader out me in the high school where there were young adult type kids in the hallways. Soon the fight started and I was getting pushed around in the hallways by upperclassmen. I was back in the rut of getting in trouble. I was labeled a trouble maker and in a small town once your labeled that’s it. it feels like you can’t change.  

I started to hang with the local rough crowd and did what they did. Some were drop outs from a few years back and some were in my school. They smoked cigarettes and experimented with drugs so I did the same. I was like a chameleon. I just wanted friends and if my friends did drugs so did I. My troubled times only got worse as I got older and more capable of bad. My brothers were having similar problems. We had become a trio of hardened kids. We fought with each other and everyone in between and our level of mischief had become seriously criminal. My parents were at their wits end for solutions to the rough adjustment I was having to living in the US. This was when I found boxing.

It started with my training for kick boxing with a local Tae Quan Do instructor. I wanted to train to fight, but didn’t want to get into the belt system. My brother Jake had been in Tae Quan Do for a year and had a high ranking belt. I didn’t like the idea of him having a higher belt than me so I trained there as a kick boxer. This worked out for a few weeks till the instructor recommended boxing to me. He had boxed in his early years and recommended a gym in Fergus Falls. I checked it out and fell in love with the sport the first day. The crowd in the gym was a rougher group of guys and they sparred every day! I liked the idea of sharpening m fighting skills every day and signed up to join the next week. From there, my life started to get better, but it was not an instant resolution. It was a slower process. 

Boxing was an outlet for the anger I had and a constructive way to vent it out. It was also a positive identity for me. It was how I started to be known… “Zach the boxer kid.” I liked it. Not only that, but with my reputation as a boxer I was able to be the tough guy I wanted people to think I was and not have to fight in school. I was better at boxing than I thought and I got a lot positive attention for my accomplishments in the ring. In fact, in my first year of competition I battled my way to 3rd in the nation. 

My family move again to get another fresh start. This time we lived in Fergus Falls where I had started boxing. ‘Here we go again’, I thought. A difference with this move was some of the trouble I had caused in Pelican Rapids came with me. This caused a hiccup in my early days of boxing. The stuff I had pending was more severe than I wanted to realize and it was clear a juvenile justice placement was on the horizon. When I got word of this I ran away from home. This was a dumb idea. I lived on the streets for 3 long months before getting caught.  I stayed at friends houses, abandoned cars and finally lived out of an abandoned trailer house out in the woods for a while. 

When I was finally picked up I ended up in Woodland Hills Group Home here in Duluth. At Woodland Hills I started to connect the dots of how I could better sort out my anger. I also learned how my poor choices affected my parents indirectly. Learned a lot about myself, but I ultimately learned I wanted a different life than what I was doing.  After my stay at Woodland Hills I got back into boxing as a therapeutic outlet to deal with my anger and use as a motivation to avoid the party life of drugs and alcohol.  

 What ultimately saved my life was getting back into boxing and living a sober Christian life. Leaving the party scene behind and perusing boxing gave me the life I have now.

What ultimately saved my life was getting back into boxing and living a sober Christian life. Leaving the party scene behind and perusing boxing gave me the life I have now.

After I graduated high school I decided to return to Duluth to attend college at UMD and continue my pursuit of boxing at Horton’s Gym. I saw life in Duluth as another fresh start. I was determined to make this one my last start. This would be my home. I wanted a clean road and a good history. I didn’t want to have legal trouble in my history. I excelled at boxing and did well in school, but a year and a half into my new home I ran into a major snag that almost derailed my dreams. What ultimately saved my life was getting back into boxing and living a sober Christian life. Leaving the party scene behind and perusing boxing gave me the life I have now. Today I have a family, a career, and live a city I now call home.

I sometimes wonder how my life would have gone had I not been bullied during my early years in the States. In the end I see it all as part of what made me, me.  It was tough getting bullied. I hated it. Because of it I wound up making a lot of poor life choices.  But in the end my history makes me who I am today.  

These days are a bit different than back when I was in school. Social Media and the internet provide growing options to bully. We won’t eliminate bullies and we can’t stop kids from picking on each other. What we can do is teach kids how to deal with bullying in a positive way and confront bullying when we see it. I made a lot of mistakes in how I dealt with the effects of my bullies. I am not saying what I did was the right way to deal with being bullied. It’s just my story. I am glad to be past those years for sure.

I will leave you with a quote from my friend’s voice mail; “Life isn’t fair, but it’s still good.” I think of it often as I go through my days. It’s so true. It wasn’t fair that I went through my years of getting bullied, but because of that I found boxing and boxing changed my life for the better. I love the person I’ve become.

Author: Zach Walters

Fight 6: Trial By Fire

The high I felt after my 5th pro fight lasted several weeks. Upon returning home to Duluth, there was a victory celebration party Chuck Horton had put together at Duluth Athletic Club, a fancy restaurant down town that had a private meeting room in the back. There was a good turnout of local friends and fans there to hear from us about our fight trip and watch the video of the fight.

Then there was the ripple effect of a job well done in the ring. We got our promotional contract proposal from Brian Halquist Productions and over all it looked like a good deal. The fight purse guarantees were a topic of negotiation, but it didn’t seem like something we couldn’t work out. The general premise of the contract was to build me into a local attraction in Tacoma. I would eventually move out to Tacoma and fight there while building my fight resume until I hit the big time. It was a flattering proposal and I was glad to get the attention. I didn’t sign it yet, but things were looking good. Jeff Crane signed on as my first personal sponsor through his company to fund training camps and other boxing expenses. This was a big step up for me. As I looked at how fast things were growing I could only sit back and smile at how well things were going.

I pointed out that in spite of Robert Linton’s boxing credentials I was the boxer coming in with momentum and was a naturally bigger boxer.

I pointed out that in spite of Robert Linton’s boxing credentials I was the boxer coming in with momentum and was a naturally bigger boxer.

Brian Halquist Productions asked us to come back for another fight. By this time working with the Tacoma-based promoter seemed like routine business. Hitting 5-0 and coming off a strong performance boosted my confidence in the ring. The opponent that was proposed was a local Tacoma boxer named Robert Linton who had twice my professional experience with a record of 10-2 6KO. Robert Linton was also an amateur boxing standout at the national level. I thought about it for about a second and agreed to it. Chuck Horton had some reservations about the match, but I was able to convince him enough to get his approval as well. I pointed out that in spite of Robert Linton’s boxing credentials I was the boxer coming in with momentum and was a naturally bigger boxer. Robert Linton had turned pro at middleweight and slowly grew into a small light heavyweight. His pace of fighting had slowed down and it looked like I would have an edge regardless of my experience deficit.

Camp started a week after I returned home. There was no rest needed for me as I had won my last fight by 1st round KO. Training felt like a continuation of my last camp. Like a layer cake I was getting better each camp. I gave my sponsor a call and told him the news about my returning to Tacoma Washington to fight. He was delighted to hear this and asked how he could help with my preparation. Chuck Horton and I talked it over and figured the best move would be to start training camp in Duluth and finish up in Tacoma. After all, we were looking at potentially moving out to Tacoma for the rest of my career so it only made sense to check it out. I gave my sponsor a call and he agreed it made sense to train in Tacoma for this fight. In a few short weeks we were on the plane again. This time with bags packed for a three week stay. My sponsor made arrangements to set up Chuck Horton and I at an extended stay hotel in the Port of Tacoma not too far from the hotel the weigh-ins were held the last few times we had been there.
When we landed in Tacoma, Washington we were met at the airport by Chad Van Sickle, a cruiserweight boxer that Brian Halquist had recently signed from Columbus, OH. He drove us down the hotel and along the way we made plans to train the next day.

The feeling of being in Tacoma was different than the last couple visits. This time I looked at everything through the framework of a person who was thinking about moving there. I liked being on the coast and the occasional views of Mount Rainier were pretty far out! Here I could live by a volcano. Sweet! The scenery was very nice and I could see myself living there.

He was a rough dude for sure and had the resume to back it all up.

He was a rough dude for sure and had the resume to back it all up.

Morning came and we were off to train with Chad Van Sickle. He brought us out to the edge of town to a little gym that was set up in the middle of nowhere. It wasn’t the typical inner-city gym feel. It was dingy and old and smelled like rotten leather. The dank state of the training facility was still a step up from my garage back home so it actually felt like an upgrade. Even still, I wondered what kind of champions trained at a gym like this. The head trainer there was a former professional boxer named Greg Haugen. He was a former world champion and won his title back when they had 15-rounders! He gave Hector Camacho his first loss and took his title, boxed Julio Cesar Chavez to a controversial stoppage in Mexico City, took on Pernell Whitaker for his title, and boxed Vinny Pazienza three times in a back and forth exchange of the world title. He was a rough dude for sure and had the resume to back it all up.
During training Greg Haugen would fill the air with fight stories. He had a continuous flow of stories he’d tell. Each one led into another and at the end of each there’d be a message to us training on why we should do something he said. My favorite take-away story was when Greg Haugen talked about fighting Julio Cesar Chavez in Mexico City. He trained in Mexico for the fight and during the press tour for the fight he made some nasty remarks about Julio Cesar Chavez’ accomplishments in the ring. One of them was stating Chavez professional boxing record was built up over years of beating up drunken Mexico City cab drivers. The remarks put Greg Haugen’s life at risk with the diehard Chavez fans which earned him military escort the remainder of his training camp in Mexico. The fight ended up as a 5th round TKO stoppage, but Greg claimed to be ahead on the cards and “smashing Chavez cuz he couldn’t fight a lick anyway” before the stoppage. It was a good story indeed. The lesson from this story was something like this… ‘At the top you gotta roll the dice and fight everyone there. It’s all business and your gona get beat by someone. It might as well be against the best.’

Greg Haugen had a comical way of telling a story. We’d laugh till our abs cramped but get priceless information at the same time. In boxing, there are many talkers and when getting information you learn to always consider the source. Is the info grounded in legitimate experience or is this just a person reciting some info he read in a book or online? With Greg Haugen, his words were scripture to me. This guy had been there and done that and experienced things I could only dream of at the time. Storytelling is an art and Greg Haugen knew it well. Those moments of camp were fun.

I got some good sparring in camp. Chad Van Sickle was good work. He was big and quick for his size. He had sparred with Robert Linton before and told me a bit about him. He said Linton was slick and had pretty good pop on his punches. My rounds with Chad Van Sickle were intense with little pauses between the punches. It was my style to attack continuously and his style was standing his ground and trading shots. Another boxer in camp was a veteran boxer named Kenny Ellis. He was training for a 12-round fight for the NABA Middleweight Title. Kenny Ellis was battle tested and crafty. He was overweight for his 160 lbs match by about 20 pounds when I got to camp! It was an issue Greg Haugen was on him about. Sparring with Kenny Ellis was a different type of battle. No matter how much I pushed him, pressured him, or attacked him, he remained very chill and unaffected. It was like he could box all day and not tire. I was amazed by this. He had a style of smooth head movement and footwork. He could slip a punch and land a counter shot in its place at the same time. He’d rush in and crowd me, but then not punch. I’d punch away at him to keep him away, but most of the shots were deflected or missed. Soon as I showed a sign of tiredness there he’d be; picking me apart with perfectly placed shots in the midst of my drained state. But like I said, Kenny Ellis did this and barely broke a sweat. Greg Haugen would yell at him to get busy so he’d get more of a workout, but that was not his style. On our runs, Kenny Ellis would trot at a medium pace and talk about sports; mostly pro football and basketball…. very little boxing. This was a totally different attitude to me. Here this guy was fighting for a title and it didn’t seem to be anywhere on his radar to be motivated for it. That and he was way over where he needed to be for the weigh-in 3 weeks away. I wondered how he would ever make it let alone win his fight!
Back at the hotel between workouts, it was boring! I had brought my homework with me from college but had that wrapped up in the first couple days. The hotel room started to feel like a jail cell. Chuck Horton and I strained ourselves to kill time! There was lots of Jerry Springer on the TV for entertainment, but that got old very fast. Thank god for my little travel chess board! Chuck Horton and I must have played over 200 games during camp. I have always loved chess and Chuck had been talking real tough about beating me in the game. Before this time, he had claimed not to play me because he didn’t want to break my confidence. I assured him I’d be fine and challenged him to games several times before, but he never took me up on a game. Well, he would agree to a game, but say we’d have to meet after practice which never worked out. Ha ha. Anyway, when we finally got to playing our games he maybe beat me twice the whole three weeks! Of course, I had to give him a lot of grief for ducking me and then getting beat so many times! His defense went back to saying he was only trying to boost my confidence by letting me win. I knew he was trying though.

One time we were bored and he said we should go outside for some conditioning drills. I grabbed my boxing gloves and followed him out. In the back parking lot of the hotel he, had me do wind sprints followed by punchout drills on the mitts. It was a muggy 80 degrees outside in the afternoon sun. After about an hour of this I got gassed! He then, said “Come on. Lets go. Time to play some chess.” What!? I was spent. I was sweaty, tired, and mentally out of it. All I wanted was a drink of water and a cold shower. Chess was not on my mind. I laughed hard on this one. What a crafty move! After getting back to the hotel room it was right to chess. No shower. No water. Chuck and I were laughing about this. I told him I’d take him out quick. He said if I was a real chess player it shouldn’t matter how I felt. It would be in my blood. OK… So we play chess. And I beat him again!!! He flipped out! It was the funniest thing all camp! He was like a little kid. We had a good laugh on this.

Camp was memorable on many levels. I got to see the Seattle Fisherman’s Wharf and venture around the downtown area where there were hundreds of panhandlers. We checked out the Space Needle and other touristy attractions. It was fun. Camp had many hard days of training and many good times in the midst of boredom between work. When it came time for the weigh-ins I felt very confident. I was living my dreams and fighting to get ahead in life. It was fun!

We went back to the hotel where the weigh-ins always were, but this time instead of showing up alone as an out of town entity we were there as part of the “in crowd” of the local boxing scene. It was all smiles walking in. I saw Robert Linton in the corner with his trainer and several friends. Since he was from Tacoma he definitely had a presence there and knew all the people well. It got time to step on the scale. I made my weight with a pound or so to give and he stepped on the scale a pound over. Chuck Horton stepped in and the pound became an instant issue. Robert Linton said there was no way he could lose it and that he was feint from drying out in a sauna. Chuck replied that he didn’t care and said the pound needed to come off or the fight was off. Robert Linton was given 2 hours to lose the pound. When he came back to weigh in he was two more pounds over! Chuck Horton called the fight off after that and told me to pack up. By this time my sponsor, Jeff Crane, had shown up with his wife and asked what was going on. After getting briefed about the matter he, agreed it was a good call to not go forward with the fight. We made a quick plan about the rest of our stay and decided to attend the fights that night after heading up to Seattle to Ruth’s Chris Steak House. Jeff Crane told me it was time to have the best piece of steak I had ever had and Ruth’s Chris Steakhouse is where we needed to go. Along the way to Seattle Chuck Horton’s Phone was buzzing back and forth with the promoter. The promoter wanted to make the fight happen and was willing to do whatever it took. Chuck told him to double my purse and hold the fight as an exhibition fight off the books. The promoter agreed to this and we went on with our evening.
I felt mentally jerked around a bit, but knew I had a legit boxing camp to back me up so I felt good about my ability to perform. I also felt good that whatever way the fight went it my undefeated record wouldn’t be affected. Dinner was good and the steak was indeed the best I had ever had! I enjoyed the meal, but in the back of my head I kept in mind I had to fight.
We got to the venue and went to our pipe n drape dressing room area. The doors of the show opened and the fans started to fill in. I began getting ready for my fight. Chuck Horton wrapped one of my hands and started on the other. At that time, one of the boxing commissioners came over and said the fight was off. He said they couldn’t do an exhibition fight. The fight either had to be on the books or not at all. Chuck Horton and I talked it over. I told him I felt good about things and wanted to go through with it. We notified the commission we were on for the fight and they brought a scale over to re-weigh me. They said we needed to get new weights since it was a new fight agreement. OK. I weighted 183lbs after dinner and Robert Linton weighed a whoppin’ 192lbs! I was shocked at how big he was! I realized now how much that one pound on the scale meant earlier that day. The fight was on. We were now a cruiserweight fight and that was that. There was a funk in the air after this that didn’t clear. Things didn’t feel right, but I was committed.

The time came to get in the ring. It was fight time! When I stepped in the ring the rest of the room disappeared. I felt my focus close in on the task at hand. Round one started slow. I could see Robert Linton was looking for counter shots. He leaned way back on his left foot and flicked his jab as he closed in. I circled and jabbed. I looked for my angles to get a nice attack. I was able to land some nice combinations and get away before the counter attack came. Robert Linton was well schooled and remained unaffected by my punches. I knew I caught him a couple times, but he had a poker face. In the next few rounds we, picked up the pace. I wanted to challenge his conditioning with pressure as that was one of my assets in the fight. There was no way Robert Linton was in better shape than me. Maybe equal, but not better. I attacked and he countered. True to the assessment of Chad Van Sickle, Robert Linton had a good punch! I got nailed with a slick left uppercut a few times, but it was never enough to stop my attacks. The fifth round was a war to the last second. I caught Robert Linton with a nice right hand that staggered him back to the ropes. I knew he was hurt and rallied to finish him, but ran out of time. Then it was time for the sixth and final round. I was not tired and felt really good. Robert Linton pushed the attack on me this round since he needed the round from losing the last. I kept my range well and boxed behind a long jab. It was a different round as we switched roles in the fight. The closing seconds were a mutual flurry of punches to the bell. I was not worried about the decision as I felt I had shown I was the better boxer by attacking early till I hurt my opponent and then closed the fight with boxing at range and avoiding the onslaught of punches that were thrown at me.

The score cards were in and we were called to center ring for the decision

The score cards were in and we were called to center ring for the decision

The score cards were in and we were called to center ring for the decision. The announcer read a unanimous decision in favor of Robert Linton and my heart sank! How could this be? I boxed so well. I followed my game plan and felt that I had won the fight based on all scoring qualities. I shook Robert Linton’s hand and asked for a rematch. He said “Sure. Anytime.” Everything went silent. My mind closed off the noise of the scene as thoughts shot back and forth about how this would impact the ascension of my career. I couldn’t hear the crowd. I couldn’t see the faces. The memory of this is a blur. When I think back on this night I can only remember a feeling. I felt empty. It was not my fight to lose, but what could I do? After the judge’s cards are in that’s that!
My head hung low as I got dressed. I stayed and watched the rest of the fights. Kenny Ellis made weight the day before and was about to enter the ring for his main event fight. I was curious how he’d do in his fight because I never saw him push himself in camp. He was always calm and paced himself in sparring and bag work. Fight night was different though. He came alive like nothing I could have imagined! He boxed a high paced fight and pulled off some very slick moves. It was an incredible display of boxing. He won by 11th round TKO. Chad Van Sickle had a good night in the ring too. He won his fight by 8th round TKO in an 8 round fight. I was the lone loser from our camp which was yet another reason for me to feel down. I stepped on the plane back home 5-1 4KO. It didn’t feel good going home a loser.
On the fight home I kept replaying the fight in my head. I could get over having a loss. I went back and forth between hanging up my gloves and wanting revenge. All these feelings were new to me. Was I as good as I felt I was? Why did I get the fight taken from me? Could my career still make it to the big time like I had hoped? All these questions and more circled in my head on the flight home.
Back in Duluth I was bombarded by people asking how the fight went. Each time I talked about the fight I had to tell them how I let them down. I didn’t want to face them, but I didn’t avoid them. At college I sat through my classes and attempted to key in on the content, but my mind was mush. All I could think about was what to do next with my boxing career. Chuck Horton told me to take the week off while we figured out what to do next. I hadn’t taken a break from boxing since Chuck Horton kicked me out of the gym several years back. Take a break?! What! I felt lost. I was quite hard on myself, but it was only because I was serious about my pro boxing career. I wanted to live up to my potential.
Then in the middle of the week I missed a call from Chuck Horton during one of my classes. I called him back on my way to my next class. Chuck had an excited tone. He said, “I know what to do, kid. I got a plan. Forget taking the week off. Let’s meet up at the gym when you’re done with school and we can talk more there.” The call was like a shot of life that ran through my ears down to my toes! Suddenly the air felt clean and my mind cleared. I didn’t know what the plan was, but I sure wanted to rid myself of the funk I was in! I didn’t need to know the details as I trusted whatever Chuck Horton said. If he had a plan, that was that. I was in.
This was good news!

Author: Zach Walters