A Few Thoughts on Absolute Beginners
From a beginning boxer
Ilove the David Bowie song “Absolute Beginners.” I first ran across it on Bowie at the Beeb, which collects live recordings at the BBC from 1968 to 2000, but it originally appeared as a 1986 single on the soundtrack for the film of the same name. I’ve always heard in it an affirmation of approaching life with an openness to possibilities, like someone learning the game for the first time. In boxing, I think of myself as a beginner, but maybe I’m no longer an absolute beginner.
Today was one of those days when everyone wanted to talk to me at the gym. First, it was . . . let’s call him Jay from the U.K. I could tell we were kind of sizing each other up back in the boxing area. Jay seemed fast on the bag to me, an area where I need improvement, but I noted he wasn’t moving his feet much. Later, when we talked, he admitted as much, saying he just wasn’t working on his feet much, focused as he was on punching in preparation for a boxing competition that he had signed up for despite being new to the sport. He’d been watching me as I shadowboxed and noted that I “obviously had a lot more experience.”
This, sports fans, blew my mind. I told him I’m the “baby in my class,” and listed my shortcomings, but not all of them because that would take forever. It turns out we’re working on a lot of the same things — stamina and breathing, for example — and have even taken a liking to the same YouTuber: Tony Jeffries, an Olympian. He recommended some neck-strengthening exercises, and I recommended watching UFC fighter Sean Strickland versus Israel Adesanya or Sneako, for the way he barely notices getting punched. Again, I was astounded, because he admitted to fear of getting punched, whereas I have, at least within the sphere of light sparring at my club, lost this fear.
I wished him well, and no sooner had I resumed solo training than Old Guy №2, whom I’ve mentioned before, shows up. All thankfulness aside, I really need my alone time in the boxing area so I can suck harder than usual, and thereby improve, away from judging eyes, but there he was, eager to offer advice, and there I was, groaning inside but outwardly accommodating . . . but to my benefit. Old Guy №2, in contrast to Old Guy №1, is actually helpful. He helped me with my stance, keeping the right hand forward enough to intercept punches, and stepping in and staying there, so you can throw hooks and body punches. Close-range stuff.
And he too blew my mind. “You have sharp form,” he said, later adding, “You look like you’ve been boxing longer than you have.” Now, people say things just to be polite — in Japan this is called tatemae and it’s a prominent facet of Japanese culture — but I don’t think he was only being polite, because he seemed genuinely impressed when I put some of his tips into effect. And it’s true that last week at lessons, when engaged in jab-only sparring with a focus on feints, I was landing shots on the best boxer there and surprising our instructor. Later, the same guy humored my pitiful efforts during anything-goes sparring, but even a little progress is progress, right?
While an absolute beginner is a good thing to be, at least in the spirit of my interpretation of the David Bowie song, I have the satisfaction of no longer being an absolute beginner. I’m just a beginner, and the road ahead is longer than the road behind, longer and full of wonder.
Note: I wrote this for Medium.com. If you are reading this on another platform, it has been pirated. I quit the Medium Partner Program, so I’m not doing this for money. It is nice, however, to know someone’s reading, so please clap or comment to let me know somebody’s out there. Gladius adhuc lucet.
