Earning a Nickname

I Won a Fight and All I Got Was This Bloated, Belated Blog Post

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Moreland) — Fri, 29 Oct 2010 02:06:00 +0000

So let's get this out of the way: on Sunday, 10/3, Jonathan Moreland defeated Ryan Madden by a unanimous decision in front of TV cameras and a packed Allston gym for part two of NESN's "Boston vs. the World" series.

Now while most anyone reading this already heard the results from me weeks ago, I wanted to wait to blog about it until I could upload the telecast. But this week I learned that the tape delay is not going to air until November and so now I'm awkwardly fumbling to tie together the play-by-play from some piecemeal, fading memories. After all, even immediately after the fight it's a bit tough to give a detailed, first-hand account when you're the one actually in the squared circle.

So until I come through with "Plan A" and am able to post the fight, I'm left just with some high-level musings - perhaps the most important being that this was one of the most "natural" feeling fights I've ever had.

With weigh-ins at 2 p.m. and fights starting at 4, I was left with the awkward task of waking up and killing a few hours around my apartment, all the while wearing three layers of sweats, not expending any energy (especially no nervous energy) and not eating or drinking anything. Fortunately, my years of boxing have made these periods of time routine and almost Zen-like: slipping on my "fight night" long underwear, sweats and hoodie; neatly packing my banana, Powerbar and ziplock baggie of wheat pasta for after the weigh-in; taking some ibuprofen and stretching out; syncing my iPod and spacing out to a mellow playlist; and, most importantly, pre-determining where I'll have my "fat kid" meal after the fight.

I took a bus to the venue and waited to weigh in. Same-day weigh-ins are always a little spooky - the empty building waiting for the crowd to trickle in, silent speakers and random organizers scrambling to make last arrangements before the doors open...and you just sitting there, wearing too many layers and unable to really do anything but try to relax until you step on the scale.

I weighed in at 155, which, frankly, was annoying. Not only did I not need to cut weight the night before/day of (at all - in the slightest) but if I put in a little time at the sauna 24 hours earlier, I could have easily made 152. But hindsight's 50/50 and I felt 100% strong and fresh on the scales, so there was no apprehension as I idled in the locker room, had my hands wrapped and warmed up.

Since my gym (Boston Boxing) was hosting the event, my trainer was more than preoccupied. I had a trainer from a gym we're close with (the good folks at Nonantum Boxing) wrap my hands, and one of our assistant trainers held pads and helped warm me up. Frankly, the way the past months have gone, I wasn't thrown off by the different faces involved in my pre-fight routine.

As mentioned earlier, the fight itself was a bit of a blur. Given that my opponent had a few inches height advantage on me and trained with a gym that produces very, very technically skilled fighters, I expected a healthy dose of jabs and straight punches, and didn't think he'd forfeit the center of the ring without a fight.

Not only was I expecting this, but given my style, I was hoping for it. And sure enough, it's exactly what I got.

The opening minute of the bout looked like more of a catch drill than a traditional feeling-out period. Both of us wanted to control the center of the ring, but both of us also wanted to establish our jabs. Rather than always "getting off first," I found myself with the opportunity to "always finish last," whether it be simply doubling up my jab, throwing 3-2-3's after parrying, or simply stepping in behind a jab, shortening my arms and flurrying. By the end of the round, I knew that so long as I stayed tight and didn't get sloppy, I'd be able to fight my fight and better control the bout.

I made Round 2 much more of a fight - not a brawl, mind you, but I came out of my corner far more aggressive and threw"with bad intentions" more then the first round. I was able to control the center of the ring as well as the pace of the fight, keeping my distance with jabs but hiding behind a healthy dose of lead 2's (many landing) and using them to setup step-overs and flurries. With a tight guard and some strategic tie-ups (and maybe, just maybe a wee bit of holding) on my part, these flurries stayed one-sided, as I kept my opponent frustrated and unable to exchange.

The third round is where things get fuzzy - not because my memory is fuzzy, but because it was an almost surreal, out-of-body experience. I was in my element, slipping, moving and flurrying in a round that was equal parts Hopkins and Hagler. It was natural and pure to the point that - in retrospect - it was seemingly effortless. As I began to time my opponent, everything else fell into place. I threw first, landed last, tied him up and kept him off balance with different steps and combinations. Even when I caught myself leaning in or bending too much at the waist, I'd keep my base sound and throw punches from these different angles, turning my movements into a beautifully awkward yet somehow coordinated offensive.

Some people call it the fastest three minutes in sports. Well that day, it was the fastest and most relaxed, the most natural and automatic and strangely efficient round I can remember putting together. And yes I feel comfortable saying this in the face of me not remembering details and really only being able to say with certainty that "I went out there and boxed well." Which I guess is also the best and most telling part of it all...

After the final bell rang, I embraced my opponent and shook hands with his corner multiple times. Within a few minutes, I was back in the center of the ring with my arm raised, nodding with pride as a sheepish grin spread and I continued to wonder where the last 9 minutes of boxing came from.

While the details of the fight seem to have instantaneously blurred into a muddled, boxing euphoria, the experience still provided some major learnings. Namely: Always fight within myself. Trust my experience and listen to what my body (during training) and mind (in the ring) are telling me. Box first, brawl second - but don't be afraid to change it up with both.

And, most importantly, when my corner hollers to let my hands go, let my body go with them. I'm a boxer, and once I'm not thinking about or doing anything else, good things can happen.

Limping Into a Fire Drill

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Moreland) — Fri, 01 Oct 2010 02:44:00 +0000

I had a post drafted earlier this week that - between the time I finished it and left for the gym and came back to proof and publish it - became completely obsolete.

On the tail end of a grueling workout late Tuesday night, I was informed by a sparring partner that I'd be fighting on the re-scheduled Boston vs. The World card this Sunday. While at face value it's no big deal for an amateur boxer to fight on a few days notice, this came as considerable shock to me, namely because:

I haven't had a sanctioned bout in 9 months and figured I'd have a set, upcoming date to work towards to officially return to competition
I've been alternating between "good" and "bad" weeks the past month, getting erratic sparring while fighting a few nagging injuries and the urge to overtrain
I have no shot at making 152 lbs. come weigh-in
The fight will be tape delayed on NESN, so it's not exactly an under-the-radar event to be thrown onto

So despite the frustrations and aches and pains...it's go time. Time to dig deep, take everything I've got, and bring it all in the ring for 3 rounds.

And, after a quick audit, it seems like things might be falling into place more than my physical state earlier this week led me to believe:

I haven't fought in 9 months, but I've been training again for more than 3 and am more than ready to jump back in feet-first (with everything going on in and out of the gym, when will things be "perfect" and ready?)
I'm in the midst of a "great" week, with about 15 rounds of sparring and confidence-building results to ride into my pre-fight recovery mode
I'm fighting at a catch weight of 160, which isn't far from what I'm walking around at
The fights on NESN. And who doesn't want to be recognized for the months of hard work and sweat equity they've put in at the gym?

So while I'm definitely far from a 100% peak, I'm confident I'm ready to dive into the competitive scene again and am treating this like a pretty significant measuring-stick bout.

But in a way, this is indeed a bit risky since my record's permanent and I'm a not able to be my methodical, uber-prepared self weeks before this fight. Additionally, I'm expecting this 160-lber in the other corner to be significantly bigger than me since I've never fought anywhere near this heavy before.

But life is short and I feel good heading into a few days of rest before fight night. So long as I fight smart and draw from the foundations I have - both the physical base I've begun to reestablish, as well as my years of experience - there is no reason I can't win this fight. As a come-forward-and-pressure fighter, my heart has always been my biggest asset and allowed me to overcome most all shortcomings on the spot - whether that be digging deep for one of my trademark flurries the last 30-seconds or outhustling and outworking a technically superior opponent from bell to bell.

And armed with that, I know Sunday's results will be no different.

Cross-Country Detour

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Moreland) — Fri, 27 Aug 2010 02:53:00 +0000

I always use metaphors (cliches?) comparing my boxing success to an obstacle-filled road - usually along the lines of "hitting the comeback trail," "the rise to the top," and "climbing the plateau to reach the peak." Well, last week the comparisons materialized, as I traveled to NYC to help my brother load a 14-foot U-Haul with all his belongings and drive across the country to move into his new apartment in Seattle.

While this cross-continent move was an absolutely awesome experience, it didn't bode well for my training. Sure, cross-training was squeezed into the week; I banged out sit-ups and push-ups at every pit stop (yes, seriously), ran on some scenic Washington trails and lifted at my brother's gym. I even got in two Juan Manuel Marquez-esque workouts loading and unloading the truck. (Remember him throwing rocks up and down the mountain before fighting Mayweather? Yeah, it was like that, just with furniture and boxes instead....and minus the whole pee drinking thing.)

But improvisation's not the name of this game. I don't need to move up a weight class or plateau or taper to stay fresh before a bout. I need to get my weight down, work in rounds upon rounds of sparring, and maintain an "aggressive consistency" to adequately prepare for a few high-profile sanctioned bouts next month that will kick off the "busy season."

Now this pace and progress had been happening. And while some may scoff and say missing 7 days of boxing is neglible, well, all I can say is that it's a lifetime for me given the stage I'm at...especially considering that the detour happened in the midst of some fairly substantial happenings, including:

Quality sparring, including multiple sessions with a former 112 lb. Puerto Rican national champ, as well as a perennial top-5 U.S. 140 lber
Extremely positive feedback from said sparring, ranging from my trainer nudging me that "you look great, you just need to tighten and sharpen that final bit over time," to overmatched gymmates weezing "you don't seem out of shape...at all" and "you throw more punches than anyone I've ever moved around with. Ever."
Legitimately feeling quicker, stronger and just better with every workout

Something had clicked while I was out this winter and into the first few months of training. Whether a mental block was cleared, or I finally was given the needed time and breath to better digest my in-ring knowledge, or it was nothing other than divine intervention from the Church of Marvelous Marvin Hagler, something just "clicked" and I'm a smoother, smarter, natural boxer. My guard's tighter, my base is lower, I kick my rights out sharper when I return my hand to my chin, I stay in the slot better without falling forward - I just have a new, long list of tangible proof and applications of my years and years of boxing experience.

While this newfound mojo has been making my transition back easier, it's also made it all the more heartbreaking that I still am struggling to balance and manage all of my outside-the-ring obligations.

In the end though, these are just challenges that - like all the others - shall pass and be overcome. I'm hungry, feel good and have far more aspects of my game hitting on all cylinders than I do items on my "to-do" list...which is primarily just my weight. (But seriously. I can't - for the life of me - get back to my fighting weight right now. Is it like a watched pot of boiling water?)

From one road to another, I'm on my way. The path might continue to have twists and turns and be bumpy along the way, but so long as I keep on keepin' on, I know there are big things ahead again.

Wandering Aimlessly Down the Comeback Trail

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Moreland) — Fri, 30 Jul 2010 04:41:00 +0000

The past few weeks have been an aimless, meandering journey that may or may not be getting me where I need to be. I’m definitely cranking up the intensity and regularity of workouts (especially "doubling up" with an a.m. run plus a p.m. gym workout) but feel like something’s missing. This “something” is probably just momentum. I can't help but feel like I'm laboring through workouts a little more than when I was peaked right before I had my surgery. Maybe it's just needing to build confidence? Regain some in-ring comfort? Or, maybe I just need to whip up a larger batch of my special sauce: swagger.

I definitely could use a touch more of all these. But regardless of what "it" actually is, hopefully I’m not going to be stuck spinning tires until this X factor changes - because when it does, I’m ready to get some traction and peel out in a dust cloud of kick-ass.

My biggest problem being patient with this “work hard and it will click” approach is that it requires a bit of faith that “the process” is working. I have no problem trucking along, but it’s unsettling to go through the motions, make progress in baby steps, and just continue assuming that one morning I’ll glove up and things will be the way they were pre-op - with my feet having that rhythmic bounce, my jab that stinging crispness, that right landing with that clobbering thump that made eyes spin.

But alas, onwards I trudge, trusting that persistence (and about 100 rounds of sparring) will be the glue that makes my body, mind and routine harmoniously “click.”

As I continue to try to hit my proverbial groove, it’s becoming clear that I’m going to have a pretty tangible, conventional set of challenges to overcome. And, because I’m self-conscious about my tone on here, I want to clarify that these are challenges, not complaints. Challenges are encountered but ultimately overcome…but they’re hindrances nonetheless, and until they’re addressed, patience is tried and progress can’t be made.

Logistics - My old office was a 10-minute walk from my boxing gym, but now my work-to-gym commute is about 45 minutes. This adds strain schlepping my gear around in crappy weather, makes it more likely I'll just go home first and then run/lift/crosstrain rather than embark on another round-trip commute, and even sometimes interferes with my sleep cycle due to bumping my whole night back an hour or two from running around the greater Boston area. Hey, lost time adds up over the months...
Summer - Summer is my busy season. From a baseball league I play in once/week to traveling to remembering the "play" aspect of a work/train/play balance, there seems to always be a scheduling conflict (or a vice) altering plans.
Tearing up my face again - I snickered typing this, but hey, I'm a banger. I outwork, outhustle and outgun my opponents. Having a mental block take me out of my element - intentional or not - would be as devastating to my end-result as not being 100% in-shape.
Weight - Having fought at 140, I never had problems making 152 for a fight last year, which is where I had my long streak of success. In fact, I'd say the added strength and comfort with my weight was a huge reason for my success. But now? Well if I had a functioning scale that didn't seem to be stuck on 165, I'd actually know how much I weigh... but I'd still probably have anxiety that I'll have a lot of weight to cut in the sauna the week of my next bout - especially since a lot of this new mass is due to me bulking up while I wasn't boxing, rather than just letting myself go. Some definite changes to my weightlifting routines (and maybe, just maybe, my drinking habits) are in order...

And right there, maybe I got to the root of it – whether it’s a lack of urgency or just a consistent flow in my week-to-week training, I seem to be spiraling in a "trap of the week" cycle and am improvising a comeback rather than just executing.

In the end, that will be the difference between success or falling short when the boxing “busy season” starts in September – whether I plow through these challenges and train in a crisp, straight line to the top, or meander through this briar patch of obstacles and let them slow me down.

At the end of the day though, my feet are moving and slowly but surely I'm progressing forward. It’s going to take a lot more than this to keep me from my titles.

Reboot

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Moreland) — Thu, 17 Jun 2010 18:08:00 +0000

Training camp officially has a pulse - and a strong one at that, thanks to some clever time management and the rediscovery of my stubborn, "train now because your opponent's still sleeping" approach.

Back in the flow, I can tell there are (again) some big things ahead for me. Some of you all might not have believed me when I said the same thing this time last year, but, well, look what happened. I've got the TV and newspaper clips to prove what I can do when I just do it, and I have every intention of building on those successes. If anything, it'll be "easier" this time around, if not for experience than for the ability to breathe again at full capacity.

With the intensity cranked up again, I've been reminded that boxing's not just something I do - it's what I do. It's my drive and passion, my love and my greatness. It's the summation of my talents - from God-given tools like strength and stamina to inherited traits (thanks Pops!) like my work ethic and the mental toughness to never be unprepared, to never lose no matter how deep I have to dig.

You can always dig deeper. Always, always always. The moment you lose that mentality is the exact time you become mortal in the ring again.

And while this might sound altruistic, frankly it's just an inexplicable drive I can't push aside for the sake of living "the norm." I'm starting to think it's not a coincidence that boxing fits so seamlessly into the rest of my life. I've still been working tirelessly at work, traveling around NY and New England, catching Red Sox and Celtics games...just living my life. And now that I'm back in the ring, I've been living it more completely.

Life is good and it is full and it is great.

Everything's been rebooted. And while there are still a few issues to hammer out (weight, sparring, strategy among others that I'll detail in my next post) it's safe to say that the comeback's on.

But on second thought, don't call it a comeback. Boxing never left me.

Don't Call it a Comeback

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Moreland) — Mon, 10 May 2010 02:02:00 +0000

The wait is over. And while saying "the comeback's officially on" might seem tired and obvious, on the same note, simply calling it a "relief" or "good to be back" wouldn't do it justice.

This isn't just me resuming training and stepping back into the ring again. This is re-plugging and re-booting a missing aspect of my life. I've missed boxing. Mourned it during the grind the past few months. And while I'm loving my new job (of which the start date coincided with my surgery & start to the boxing hiatus) there still has been something missing from my day-to-day stride. Yes, I'm happy and pain-free and can breathe again. Hell, I can smell again - it's been nothing short of eye-opening realizing how bashed up my face was before they cleaned it out. All has been well...but it hasn't been right.

An X factor has been missing. A call hasn't been answered. My drive feels like it's been wandering and wasted. That certain urgency and "purpose" just hasn't been there.

But for more than a week now, I've dipped my toe back into the water and am ready to go barreling feet-first back into the ring. Note: feet-first, not face-first. That's what landed me under the knife and looking like this:

Yeesh, look at that swollen clown nose. But to think just how poorly I was breathing before (and prone to infections and bleeding and all-around nastiness) my surgery, let alone overcoming it in the ring with an angry opponent and suffocating mouthpiece.

But alas, I'm mo' better; I'm 100% and hungry. But while I've stayed in more than great shape (as always) I've got a long way to go before I'll be ready to compete at a high level. We all know that a boxer can't be judged by his body type or appearance, and that there's no amount of weights, road work and cross-training that can replace "peak boxing shape." You need speed, stamina, timing, that feel and comfort. (For me, that swagger.) I've had layoffs from the sport before, but never one where I need to so completely rebuild myself to get back to the same level. (Lest we forget that I had my surgery just days after a televised bout, a fight for a championship belt and a thrashing of the regional Golden Gloves finalist.) This will not only be a challenge, but an opportunity. And it'll be fun.

I can't wait to get this motor humming again.

So buckle up, folks.

Sneak Preview

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Moreland) — Thu, 15 Apr 2010 01:05:00 +0000

Big news coming later this week, folks. Dusting off the blog and...well, you'll see later this week. ; )

Don't blink, ya might miss it...

How the Other Side Lives

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Moreland) — Wed, 24 Feb 2010 01:41:00 +0000

This whole hiatus thing is...strange. It's new. And strangely refreshing. But also kind of boring. And just not...right.

The past few weeks I've continued to do a whole lot of nothing as far as the ring is concerned. But in a strange, "normal" sort of way (normal meaning similar to how you odd, non-boxing types who don't like having your faces rearranged approach things - psh, weirdos) I've also been doing a whole lot.

With the additional, extensive work on my face and airways, I'm still not cleared to do anything full-contact. For various reasons, I've taken this one step further and stayed away from the boxing gym altogether, sticking exclusively to weights, plyos and road work. Some of these various reasons include:

- A vacation to the Virgin Islands

- A new job

- Being months away from competing again. With no goal in sight, I wouldn't lose motivation so much as be more prone to impatience and frustration for my situation.

- Missing the Golden Gloves

- Watching the shmuck I pounded on in my 12/11/09 fight televised on NESN make it all the way to the Golden Gloves regional finals. While in a way this is something to hang my hat on (hey, the proof is on the tape) it's also something I'm shaking my head at since I missed a prestigious tourney I clearly could've made some noise in.

- The obvious point that 9 years of pugilism messed my face up. And while even the best sometimes have to get cleaned up before climbing back to the top (hey, Vanderlai Silva just had surgery on his nose to fix his breathing too) recovery is a nuisance and I can't help but fear that it'll subconsciously affect my fight style - sort of like a pitcher who gets beaned by a line-drive comebacker and "is never the same again" even though his health and form all appear to be back in full, top-notch shape.

Yes, I can buy more protective headgear and and tweak my sparring formats and schedule and just trust (know) that I won't be boxing 9 more years and accumulate as much damage...but gah, I'm not a defensive wunderkid like Pernell Whitaker - I'm aggressive and offensive-minded and am in my own head and driving myself crazy with restlessness. And it's silly, but it's enough to keep me at this relaxed pace and in a sort of holding pattern before I break out of my recovery.

After running the Boston Marathon in 2005, a friend told me "don't think about your next marathon until you forget about your last." I've never had to do the same with boxing, but am on the tail-end of exactly this right now.

And to make sure it's clear: I'm not out indefinitely. I never have and never will be scared of eating a little leather - it's the nature of the beast. But right now I'm just not in any rush and in a nice groove everywhere but the ring - as much as it pains me to say. It's kind of nice focusing on the new job and beach muscles and multiple "rest days" with nothing resembling physical activity and taking a vacation to the Virgin Islands and disregarding what the scale says and just chilling... just seeing how the other 99.99% of 24 year-old professionals live. It's invigorating and it's bound to pay off in the long-term boxing-wise.

Some of y'all always have great insights - I'd be interested to hear what do's/don'ts you've run into if you've ever had an injury or prolonged break from your "passion."

Sometimes before you climb back up the mountain, it's nice to enjoy the scenery for awhile before breaking a sweat. And right now, the view's fine.

Along the Road to Recovery

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Moreland) — Thu, 28 Jan 2010 03:33:00 +0000

First off: I'd like to thank you all for reading this blog and your well-wishes before my surgery. I do a miserable job responding to your comments and it looks like there are a lot more of y'all who started reading this right as I go from a "peak to a valley," but I truly appreciate your support and readership.

I feel like I could begin and end this post simply by writing "surgery sucks," but, well that obviously doesn't paint much of a picture. Nor does it convey how much I'm missing the ring.

Then again, a one-sentence summary probably would read more along the lines of "it's not the surgery that sucks - it's the 6-week recovery after that sucks."

Despite my pre-anesthesia jitters, surgery went well. And by well, of course, I mean that I didn't die, didn't have to stay overnight, and was only mildly miserable when I got wheeled out of the hospital that afternoon.

By the time I went to bed, I had graduated from jello and pudding to cheese and painkillers. The next morning, I had a doctor's appointment to remove the packing and clean my stitches - at which time I also was informed that my nose "was awful...absolutely horrible once we got in there" and that the damage was far more extensive than they had originally diagnosed. My doctor informed me that he had to do two additional procedures that involved grafting cartilage to the front and bridge of my nose to keep it from collapsing in the future, whether I got popped again or not. Essentially, there was so much wreckage in there that on top of fixing my deviated septum, the doctor felt it was necessary to re-build my nose from the inside out. This obviously made the procedure far more extensive and invasive than originally planned, but was done in order to give me the proper care as the doctor saw fit, and I'm glad he decided to do it while I was already opened up.

As he explained how I'd need to care for all the extra, unexpected stitching, he removed my packing. I am by no means squeamish, but this was far and away the most horrifyingly disgusting, gruesome thing I've ever experienced. I wouldn't doubt that there are still imprints on the armrest from my death grip as he pulled out all the...bleh. Just, bleh. The things that came out of my nose...

Once you get inside it, the human body is gross...

My surgical drainage lasted a few days, but the pain subsided quickly. For the next few days, I was more uncomfortable and inconvenienced rather than swollen or in pain, which was encouraging. By the end of the week I still had significant internal swelling, but I already felt like I was breathing easier than I had been before the procedure.

My 2-week check-up and cleaning went well. My stitches have already begun to dissolve on their own, my wounds are clean and healing nicely, and I've been green-lighted to resume workouts and gentle nose blowing. (NEVER take it for granted that you can blow your nose - especially in the gnarly New England winters when it runs every time you step outside.)

I've eased my way back into "full," strenuous workouts and am feeling good. I think I played my cards perfectly wearing myself out pre-surgery and making sure I was "due" for a few days rest anyway. If you squint at the half-full glass, I kind of only really missed one week of training. It was worth it though - through all the discomfort, I wanted first and foremost to do this right and be done with it, and thus far everything's healing beautifully.

And, more importantly, I can breathe again. Easily and fully breathe. Which is a remarkable feeling once you've gone so long and forgotten what it's like to fill your lungs with air and scents and all sorts of nasal goodness.

Since my surgery, I have not been to my boxing gym, nor have I even gloved up to work the heavy bag at my "normal" gym. This has been done intentionally. Not only do I miss the ring terribly, but, well, I'm just not ready to go back. I don't have headgear with a face guard for regular sparring, I'm out of boxing shape, I don't have a "plan" in place to get back to competing and, frankly, I want to enjoy a few weeks off where I'm fully healthy before I dive back in.

If you're going to go, go all out. I'm not a defensive fighter, so I want to make sure I'm comfortable and at peace with my "new face" before squaring off again. I won't be effective if all I'm thinking about is how to not have my nose get grazed by a glove. Similarly, I'm not a wannabe competitor, so I don't want to rush back and aimlessly plod through half-ass workouts. Like my recovery, when I get back to boxing I want to get back at it "right."

And right now I'm still technically recovering. Just biding my time along the long road to recovery...

Pre-Surgery Musings

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Moreland) — Thu, 07 Jan 2010 04:18:00 +0000

Before I begin with this short little post, I want to remind you all to (if you haven't already) check out my previous entry. It was a more-than-appropriate "final" event before my upcoming competitive hiatus - a sort of peak before I plateau for a bit.

In a few hours, I'll check-in to have surgery to have a deviated septum and some mangled bones and cartilage in my nose fixed. As I've noted here before, I've been virtually unable to breathe through my nose for a few months. (And before that, I was getting sinus infections way too often, and before that my nose would bleed when someone blew in my general direction from down the block - point being, who knows how long this has been getting more and more messed up.) With a slight lull in the upcoming bout schedule, no airplane flights scheduled for over a month and the holidays behind me, I figured now was as good of a time as any to get it fixed.

Recovery time seems to vary. I'm supposed to go 2 weeks (I'm going to use business weeks) without "working out," including not lifting anything over 25 lbs. or bending over at the waist. I'm supposed to stay out of the cold, dry air as much as possible too.

I foresee two "problems." First, no one is saying "absolutely do nothing physical." They're saying "you'll risk a nosebleed" or "well, if you're going to run, I'd recommend you do it inside." I'm all about doing this the right way and healing without any complications, but at the same time, well, I'm a workout-aholic. I think everything will be more clear based on how I'm feeling early next week - then I'll decide whether I want to start small on the exercise bike or with 5 lb. dumbbells or something to keep my heart rate and blood pressure low (and most importantly, my aching nose happy.) But no matter what, I need to make sure I absolutely don't do too much too soon and have any setbacks.

The other problem is that this is resulting in an indefinite absence from the competitive side of boxing. I'm by no means hanging up my gloves - it's only 2 weeks before I'll be starting to work back up to full speed again. The problem is that it will likely be, well, who knows how long before I feel comfortable enough to put the headgear on and step back into the ring. Even though I'm going to order one of those models of headgear that have the bar across your nose/mouth that the pros use when sparring in training camp, I don't ever want to have to battle a mental block fearing that my nose could again gradually be getting messed up over time. Besides, you can't do anything extra to truly protect your face in a sanctioned bout.

The bottom line: I am not finished boxing - not even this month. But I do not want to (and God willing will not have to) have surgery again.

I had considered drafting some prose here that outlined all the things I'll miss about the ring. But then I realized that not only is that a bit melodramatic and even cliche...but unnecessary. I'm not going anywhere. I'll be back, and perhaps much sooner rather than later.

The road to recovery starts tomorrow. And in the context of all the other challenges I've had to overcome during my amateur boxing career, this road doesn't seem so bad.

Keep swingin'. Talk to y'all in a few days.

NESN Fight Night Finale

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Moreland) — Mon, 04 Jan 2010 03:44:00 +0000

With a only a week to prepare between my sanctioned bout in Billerica and the exhibition being recorded as the season finale for the reality show on NESN, I had to strike an impromptu balance between resting, maintaining and training. I had peaked the previous Saturday (as planned) but was definitely a little tired and sore the days after - but per usual, there was no rest for the weary and the televised bout at week's end was arguably bigger than the sanctioned one that had just passed.

Come Monday when I started thinking about the ring again, my biggest concern was an achy jaw. In my 8+ years of boxing, my jaw honestly has never hurt, but a few stiff uppercuts had changed that and made it pretty creaky. Some light sparring later in the week did nothing to aggravate it, but even the lightest contact confirmed that it was sensitive.

The week passed with me surrounding a rigorous workout and some sparring around two lighter, non-contact sessions. With the fight at a catch weight, I was able to sleep, eat and hydrate as much as I wanted, which definitely helped with recovery.

With the bout on a Friday - which, as I've whined about a lot on here, is my least favorite day to fight given the whole 8-6 work thing - I spent the hours leading up to the fight, well, doing the 8-6 work thing. I walked over to the gym after work "per usual," treating the fight night like just another night working out in my 2nd office.

With the knowledge that amateur events never start on time and televised events run even later, I made myself comfortable in the locker room. 15 minutes past the original start time turned to 30 and eventually an hour passed without a new ETA. As a NESN camera started asking me generic questions about whether or not I was ready, a fight sheet was finally posted...and my trainer informed me I was up 2nd. And the 1st fight was beginning immediately.

Like the Billerica fight, I didn't have any time to waste revving my engines - I needed to get loose in a hurry and my hands weren't even wrapped. In retrospect, the fire-drill warm-up might have had its perks, such as keeping me relaxed and limiting my time to meander around and wear myself out by "over-warming up." At the time though, it was a bit stressful multi-tasking (wrapping my hands while I stretched my hammies, fumbling with my headgear as I worked the kinks out of my back) and making it to my corner before the opening bell.

But alas, as always, things fell into place and I was able to get a (sorry excuse for a) sweat worked up before the bell rang, and had a piece of advice to boot. As with most of my bouts, I hadn't ever fought my opponent before, but a training partner had faced him before. And the scouting report? "He's a lefty...throws a lot of left hands...just stay away from his left hand and you'll be fine."

So, well, there was that insight...

The cameras didn't really add to any different feel or nervousness, both internally as well as the larger gym atmosphere. I was on my home turf and feeling good as I touched gloves with my opponent. True to the scouting report, he started off throwing lots of individual punches, with the majority of them being straight lefts. He was a strong kid but was at noticeable disadvantages in the speed and work-rate departments. Aside from an early straight left that clipped my jaw and reminded me that it had been hurting all week, my opponent really didn't do much in the first round besides eat my jabs and straight rights as I felt him out and gained confidence (and momentum) with each passing second. As the bell rang, I saw no reason why I couldn't keep feeding him the same, steady diet of lead rights between his hands for the remaining 2/3 of the bout and coast.

The 2nd round began with my opponent bull rushing me, yet (oddly) continuing to throw punches at a slow rate, with most of them now directed to my body. The vast majority of his body shots didn't land, and I was able to use some good angles to land some crisp counter hooks over his lowered hands. In close and low - but not throwing punches - neutralized my right hand, but resulted in my opponent spending the majority of the round bent over at the waist or in an awkward squat, crowding himself below my waist and slowing his punch output to a crawl.

But while his punch output slowed as he ducked/bent/squatted into me from all angles, he upped his pushing and cheap-shot activities. Perhaps frustrated at his ineffectiveness (both in the 1st round as well as his bumbling 2nd round adjustments) or just tired of getting hit so cleanly so often, my opponent apparently seemed to have no choice but to start fighting dirty.

And not dirty in a "thumb your eye, sneak an elbow in, hit you low, wear you out and rough you up" sort of way. No, this was dirty in the "I'm a punk with Daddy issues that's going to wrestle/push/hip-toss my way out of clinches, throw punches after the ref steps in for a break, and flagrantly hit you low...because I'm helpless to do anything else to you" sort of way.

The kind of dirty that got the crowd fired up, groaning and cheering even louder for me.

The kind of dirty that didn't make me angry, but confident - or rather, cocky.

I had never been so sure of anything in my life than that the kid had nothing on me. And after 2 rounds, he knew it too. He knew it and was helpless to do anything but get even more frustrated, spiraling into a (frankly) pathetic, desperate fit in the ring.

So as I came out of my corner for Round 3...I smiled. I winked. I added a little "eff-you" to my jabs, pounced inside behind my lead rights and flurried, and made sure to give the kid an earful whenever we were in close to tell him who's boss.

I'm all about sportsmanship - but I'm also about putting someone in their place in my ring.

Through it all, my opponent continued to wait to land one, single big punch at a time (and he's still waiting) and kept routinely keeling his upper-body below my waist, awkwardly clinching low and then shoving his way out.

In the waning seconds of the bout, I had him on the ropes and was calmly working over his body - chin-tucked, shoulder rolled, methodically landing the body-body-body-bodies you throw 100000's of every week - when he quit struggling and lifted his arms above his hands, encouraging me to keep hitting his body.

Ah, the ultimate concession: "you're hitting me so much that all I can do is take it and convince you they don't hurt."

Which was fine by me.

So after a few pitter-patter body shots, I did the only decent thing: I came upstairs and hit him right between his raised arms.

I don't care whether you're boxing, brawling or showboating - if you stick your chin out, I'm going to hit it.

And while I didn't knock him down (ah, if only it was circa Toney/Jones Jr.) the ref stepped in - whether because he saw he was hurt or simply wanted to tell him again to knock off his shenanigans.

Upon hearing cries of "10 seconds left" from my corner, I was more than happy to pounce on the kid again, landing a number of punches in a flurry and - just before the final bell - knocking his headgear clean off his (fat) head with an uppercut.

The bell rang and the ref stepped in...just in time for my opponent to hit me after the bell one, final time - his nose bloodies and headgear on the canvas. I couldn't help but just laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, shake my head and walk to my corner, completely satisfied by just how far I had risen above his awkward, bush-league tactics. It was a boxing 101 seminar. And on TV, no less.

My opponent didn't even stick around for the obligatory hand-raise in the middle of the ring - he just bee-lined it back to the locker room (or whatever sad, sorry hole he crawled out of).

After the fight, my gymmates gave me fist pounds and nods of approval, while some of my friends squawked and were more fired up than me, re-emphasizing just how cheap and sorry my opponent was. Fortunately, I was able to just laugh and tell them to shrug it off too - I couldn't have done anything more to beat the kid pillar to post.

Or rather, box him pillar to post. And that's what it was, and that's what's most satisfying; not the lights or the crowd or the machismo, but having your hard work pay-off and being in "that fight," being that guy who had everyone talking about what a clinic a boxer over a brawler can be.

'Tis a beautiful thing, the sweet science.

And if you don't believe me (or the crowd, or my friends, or my opponent's blood that I had to wash off my arms and trunks) you can see it on the "Boston Boxing" season finale on NESN.

Or better yet, check out the Allston-Brighton Tab's coverage of the event (namely picture 6):

For those of you who didn't click through, the newspaper's caption reads: "John Moreland of Boston Boxing connects with a right uppercut to the face of his outclassed opponent Joe Parina of Quincy PAL during the filming of a new reality TV show on NESN at the Boston Boxing gym in Allston on Friday."

Ah, to be a famous amateur boxer... albeit have your name misspelled.

Lessons learned:
- You should always strive to dominate your opponent enough that even the newspaper says you outclassed him. That way there's no questions or doubts in your mind - or the crowd's, your opponent's, the public's, or most importantly, the judges' minds either.
- Patience, smarts and savvy trump dirty boxing 99 times out of 100.
- If you're fighting a southpaw, lead rights down the shoot are your best friend.
- Wear a cup.
- Respect your opponent, but most importantly, respect the sport. Boxing has a funny way of weeding out (or at the very least, making examples of) those who enter the ring for the wrong reasons.

And that friends, was my 2009 boxing highlight. And I can't wait to record it and keep re-living it.

Billerica Elks

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Moreland) — Tue, 22 Dec 2009 00:07:00 +0000

Man, bad timing to get uber-busy and neglect updating this - especially since these past two weeks have had a lot going on in the squared circle. Funny how that works...

So to backtrack to my last post... I fought a sanctioned bout at the Billerica Elks Lodge (don't laugh! It was a legit venue with a solid crowd) a few Saturdays ago. Per usual since my move up to 152 lbs., I made weight with ease, stepping off the scale at 148. Mind you, up to the 5 p.m. weigh-in the only food/water I had up to that point was a Powerbar and banana for breakfast, but like all same day weigh-ins, I'm adamant about clearing the weight limit with ease so I can spend the hours leading up to the fight re-hydrating rather than further de-hydrating and wasting energy cutting the last few pounds.

As I was munching on some wheat pasta, my trainer informed me that my opponent was pulling out because I was "too old." (He was 18, I'm 24.) When I asked if it was a mismatch by record or weight (how amateur fights are made) my trainer said no - it was solely about the age difference. As he confirmed and re-confirmed with the USA Boxing officials that I wasn't fighting, we debated the idiocy of my "opponent's" decision to show but not fight (from the drive out to the boonies in a blizzard, to the question of "if this was a tournament would this clown bow out of that because of age too?") and came to the conclusion...that no matter how you looked at it, this was lame.

Just as I had come to peace with the fact that I wasn't fighting that night and started to cool my heels, my trainer came back and said they found a fight...and I was up second.

Mentally I went from a slow ramp-up to slamming on the brakes to revving the engine again within the same hour - you can't underestimate the mental disadvantage that can put you at.

Regardless, when it's go-time you go, and I was rearing and ready for the opening bell.

My opponent was a strong, block-shaped (in an endearing way) kid from Lowell that seemed to throw nothing but jabs and uppercuts - quite effectively at first - and had a tendency to hold. A lot. Unfortunately, I didn't find any of this out until about 2/3 of the way through the 1st round. It was already a fairly ugly fight, but I knew I had the speed, strength and strategy advantage, so I made sure to out-ugly him and ended the round up on points.

At this point, I forget exactly what my trainer said between the 1st and 2nd rounds, but I know the gist of it was to quit fighting ugly and make the kid box me in the center of the ring, where I was doing nothing short of schooling him.

But alas, the 2nd round was the same as the 1st, where just as I found my range and landed some flush shots, the kid got on his horse and backpedaled, I chased, and we ended up being tied up on the ropes until the ref broke us up. While my opponent did land a few strong uppercuts in close quarters, I really started pulling away on points by staying busy as he backpedaled, throwing pitter-patter shots at a high rate. While I know all of my shots weren't hurting him, I knew I was scoring points in bunches. And that's really all that matters.

You had to have seen it - it was so ugly, it was beautiful.

Seriously.

Between rounds, my trainer again yelled at me for getting in so close all the time and letting him 'rassle around with me, but said that when I did get tied up to keep doing what I was doing - which was stay busy, keep throwing and score points regardless of distance/arm angle/anything worth writing home about.

In the 3rd round my opponent came out of his corner completely flat. I don't know how he gassed so badly, but I'm glad he did and I'm happy to take credit for it. Tired, his jab slowed and uppercuts widened, which allowed me to beat him to the punch, parry and consistently land some flush jabs and hooks. This also resulted in him skipping the whole in-fighting thing and go straight for tie-ups whenever possible...as well as throw an errant body shot that landed low.

Now for those of you who have never been hit low in the ring, I gotta tell ya, it's a..."unique" experience, to say the least. Yes, we've all been hit low before, and yes, hurts like hell, and yes, I was wearing a cup. And while it sucks something awful, I must admit that I underestimated the numbing power of adrenaline, as well as the surreal sensation you get when you realize that you're the subject of a few hundred people's groans and cringes.

After the low blow, the ref led me to a neutral corner and sheepishly told me "I didn't see it, but take your time." Bent over with a glove awkwardly on my crotch, I looked up and exclaimed "didn't see it?! Did you hear the crowd?! They saw it..." He laughed and said "Yeah, I heard 'em, that's why I'm giving it to you."

Nice guy, that ref.

As I kneeled there waiting for the electricity in my trunks to subside, I looked across the ring and saw my opponent sucking wind. And it was at that point that I knew I needed to suck it up and finish the fight that instant - every second I spent recovering was wasted, as my opponent somehow was needing the time more than me.

We touched gloves, my opponent nodded apologetically, and I went back to work. I finished the fight strong, working my way in with an increasingly effective jab and pouncing with flurries, sticking to my strategy of shortening my arms and just landing short, "torquey" punches in bunches. Think the Calzaghe/Manfredo stoppage.

The bell rang, we congratulated one another and our respective corners, my trainer pointed out how "if you lose this decision, I'm going to be really pissed," and I went to the middle of the ring...to have "Jonathan Moreland" called over the PA and my hand raised.

But the best part? The ref handed me this bad boy:

And they ended up sticking this on my gym's homepage (why, oh why does no one get my name right?)

So the lessons learned:
- if you want to fight at a certain distance, keep it at all times - your opponent might easily not let you "get out" and keep re-establishing that distance naturally (without a tie-up and the ref breaking and restarting the action first)
- there is a time and place to stop what you're doing and let your nuts quit hurting - when your opponent is gassed in the final round of a fight is not one of them
- if your opponent is going to fight ugly, make sure you have the composure to "out-ugly" him
- it's all about the points, baby. And the W.
- it's more fun to when you get hardware and an online shout out

So while the celebration was on, I only had a few days to rest, recover and (re-) prepare for my next bout, which was that upcoming Friday for the filming of the season finale of my gym's NESN reality TV series.

No rest for the weary...

Pre-fight Bullets

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Moreland) — Sat, 05 Dec 2009 18:36:00 +0000

Some random thoughts as I cool my heels before my bout tonight:

- My least favorite time to fight is Saturday night. This might seem a bit counter-intuitive since Saturday evening events usually are much more high-profile and have bigger draws, but it's miserable sitting around waiting to weigh-in, let alone keep my (hungry, dehydrated) self occupied in my apartment. Regardless, I love boxing and competing on a big, amateur stage. Just in the meanwhile, I'm a little uncomfortable and restless.

By the way, the alternative "good" times are Friday nights (leave straight from the office where I've been busy and had my mind elsewhere all day) or Saturday afternoons, when I can end my fasting immediately after a mid-day weigh-in.

A Powerbar, ziplock of wheat pasta and banana (my bounty after tonight's weigh-in) never looked so good...

- I tried the Roberto Duran approach and ate a huge steak last night. Usually I'm much more of a chicken or tuna type of person for my pre-fight meal, but the old school greats stuck with cow, so I figured I'd give it a whirl. Anyone know the pros/cons of different proteins before a fight? Meat's meat to me, and I always eat it with whole grains, veggies and all sorts of good complex carbs, so as far as I'm concerned I'm still getting the nutrients I need.

- There's no worse feeling than taking work home from the office on a weekend - namely due to having a scheduled day off on a Friday. So between counting every calorie or drop of liquid that enters my body, I've also had to spend a bit more time than I'd like on my laptop on said staycation/long weekend. But such is life...and the nature of this blog.

New nickname idea: the punching PR pro. It's only fitting, since life's been more than equal parts lately.

- I'm disappointed I'm going to miss the Williams/Martinez fight tonight, but hopefully can avoid spoilers by browsing online carefully until Monday. It should be a great fight. Anyone watching? Well you shouldn't, the big fight tonight is in Billerica, MA...

Trying to keep up - pt 2 of 2

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Moreland) — Thu, 03 Dec 2009 03:52:00 +0000

Aside from consistency, the major thing missing from my training regimen the past few months has been getting different looks sparring. There are quite a few bodies in my gym, but too many of them are cut from the same mold, whether it be size, style or a lack of experience (or just flat out skill - let’s be honest.)

Now while this can be easily remedied by, say, going to a different gym to spar for a day, increasing rounds but slowing the pace with a “newbie” to fine-tune technique and try new stuff, or making sure you’ve mastered an attack plan for a particular style through repetition, there are some molds/types/styles that you just can’t get used to unless you see it early and often.

Southpaws often need “approached” like this. There aren’t a ton of them out there and they give lots of people problems in the ring from, well, squaring up “backwards.” If you don’t have a lot of experience with them, they’re bound to give you problems or - best case - take you out of your element and force you to fight differently than you would against an orthodox fighter, even if it’s an adjustment as simple as the direction you circle.

Having said that, over time I’ve learned not to completely hate lefties. Rounds and rounds of sparring and countless (thudding) left hands have made me quit thinking “oops, I need to quit doing that” after the fact and be able to step into the ring knowing how to best counter and attack a lefty.

Where’s this leading? Well it ties into last post’s question about tall, rangy fighters.

Because last week I learned that I haven’t spent nearly enough rounds with taller fighters lately.

And I still am not even close to figuring them out.

Tall fighters are not tough automatically because of their height - they're tough when they use that height and create an advantage. And this isn't just purely by reach, but also defensively through shoulder rolls, slips, leans and just good all-around, defensive upper body movement.

My recent experience was with a super slick, lanky 152-lber from another gym who came in for some work. While I had some early success getting inside, neutralizing his height and banging with him, he moved well enough and fired off enough jabs that I (stupidly, out of frustration) tried to start jabbing with him and fighting at a distance.

Which is not smart when you're facing a finesse fighter with a 4-5" height advantage.

In the end, we moved around 4 rounds, with me kicking his tail on the inside for the first 60 seconds...and then him picking me apart for the last 120 of each round.

Lesson learned. Get inside early and get comfy there - his arms don't seem so long close-up.

This sparring, of course, was part of my training for my sanctioned bout this Saturday, 12/5, which is still confirmed. While I don't feel like (rather, I know I'm not) in the immaculate condition I was before my hiatus in October, I've upped my sparring and drills (4-punch drills/exchanges, jab drills, the partner stuff I'm not usually a regular with) and have done what I can with the time and energy allotted. Aside from some big-time trouble breathing because of my crooked shnozz, I think the only think needed now is to keep ramping up my mental preparation and sharpening the chip on my shoulder. And even then, with mental prep comes confidence and relaxation, which will only help my energy and stamina in the ring.

It's all connected, it's all catching up, and it'll all come together beautifully Saturday. It will. Like it always does. For serious.

So long as my opponent's not tall.

Trying to keep up - pt 1 of 2

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Moreland) — Wed, 25 Nov 2009 02:26:00 +0000

What a whirlwind week. While I've been feeling relatively good in the ring with some encouraging results to boot, I can't help but feel a little anxious that I'm just doing enough to get by and I won't be able to keep savvy-ing my way to wins forever. (Who would have thunk we'd see the day where I ease off the gas, stop being so quick to brawl, use my head and dominate with "savvy?")

Speaking of which, the short-notice bouts continue to roll in. I was notified last Friday that I'd be fighting on December 4 and in our reality show season finale on December 11. Seeing how that's not even two weeks away, I'm officially behind and borderline desperate to get things "clicking" again - but tell that to the Dr.'s appointments, dentist drilling for oil in my gums, client projects and breakneck pace at the office. Oy. Just got to make it happen...

But to backtrack:

Last Friday I had a bout at an event hosted by my gym. Ironically, my opponent didn't show, so I was matched against a stablemate in a similar situation. I had never moved around with him before, but he's had some amateur success and is graced with - without a doubt, far and away - the fastest hands in the gym. Unfortunately, until I can post the video (and there will be video - this was recorded by a trainer as well as the TV crew) I'm stuck giving you the Reader's Digest version.

Round 1 was very much a feeling out round, with me gauging just how much faster he was than me (a lot) and figuring out what it will take to pin him in a corner, lower his work rate, slow down...anything to get him to keep his hands still and by his chin. Fortunately (for my face as well as my strategy) he wasn't one to push the tempo, engaging me at a pace that was borderline lazy. Noticing this early, I made sure to flurry the last 30 seconds to steal some points and the round.

Whether he got tired, lazy, comfortable or intimidated by my pop (the ham-muh was singing!) his work rate decreased further in Round 2 and I was able to consistently throw first. And since he was letting me get off first, I made sure to get off often, keeping distance with my lead right, sticking a healthy diet of jabs in his face, and pouncing in and out with 5-, 6- and 38- (if only) punch combinations.

Round 3 was a repeat of Round 2, only more lopsided in my favor. I kept my defense tight and feet moving to make sure we only engaged when I wanted to - we either traded individual punches at a distance or I was able to open him up, flurry in close and then quickly escape back out behind my jab. After the final bell, my corner and random spectators alike were telling me I "beat him up" - which, when going against a speedster, means a lot and is an indication of just how well I was able to neutralize his speed and fight my fight.

Another interesting comment I kept hearing was that I "looked so relaxed." I think that explains why I surprised myself with how much I had left in the gas tank. I also think it's a completely overlooked aspect of amateur boxing. There's no better way to tire yourself out, start lunging and getting sloppy than tensing up in the ring. It used to be a problem of mine, but I think time, experience and mental as much as physical preparation can help anyone stay calm, loose and composed in a bout, with far-reaching benefits.

Anyway, that brings us to a little over a week ago. Both a lot (sparring a nationally-ranked boxer on camera, learning about my two bouts early next month) and surprising little (um, not nearly enough time in the gym) has happened since then, but I want to leave that for another post this week. After all, with the holidays I'll definitely have time to crank out some more content, as well as (finally) tweak some visual stuff on this sorry-looking site.

You have to catch up with yourself before you can keep up (and move ahead) of the pack...

Until then, allow me to pose a question for the comments section: how would you fight a much taller opponent? And don't Google it - I'm much more interested in your experience, whether it be an in-ring lesson or outside observation. My answer (and rude awakening) coming later this week...

Preparation is key

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Moreland) — Fri, 13 Nov 2009 23:11:00 +0000

I'm a creature of habit when it comes to the 36 hours immediately leading up to a fight. Last night, however, I had no choice but to break my rituals.

After swinging into CVS to buy a protein bar, banana, sugar free Red Bull and my other pre-fight necessities, I walked home and went to unlock my back door...when I couldn't find my apartment key. Key chain? Check. My apartment key? Nowhere to be found.

Thank you, Murphy's Law...

I call my roommate and of course, she isn't answering. I have someone let me into the building itself, drop my goodies off at my apartment door and do what any decent, patient man would do: walk to my favorite neighborhood bar.

So instead of a home cooked dinner of chicken parm, I had a (delicious) grilled cheese with fried pickles. And a mug of Octoberfest, because I was in that sort of mood. (Pre-fight rules be damned!)

A buddy was in the area, so we met up and one mug turned into two. It's been three hours and my roommate is still not answering or replying. And that's when the spelling bee started.

Yes, a spelling bee. Like on TV with the little, uber-geeky kids. Just at a bar. And it was awesome, albeit of no help getting me in my apartment and my bed.

10:30 p.m. rolls around and I'm still - for all intents and purposes - homeless. I line up a couch to sleep on, a ride to work in the a.m. and a washing machine to wash my clothes since I'll be wearing them two days in a row. I trek out into the night to hop on the train...

...when my roommate calls.

30 minutes later, I'm in my apartment, spare key in hand. I won't even tell you where my key was, but, well, it was in the most obvious place outside of staying on my key chain.

So in short: while I'm in good shape and have had good results the past two weeks in the ring, I am far from being peaked and truly "ring ready." I've worked a long week in the office (hell, I'm still at my desk now, just 3 hours before my bout), didn't get much sleep last night and have done nothing other than eat well today and hydrate to prepare for my bout.

But ya know what?

I'm still savvy, hungry and have more than enough to work with.

And I'mma whup this dude something fierce tonight.

...And back on the upswing

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Moreland) — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 03:23:00 +0000

Despite battling a nasty head cold that sent me to the doctor for the first time in years, this past week I've been able to fully regain, well, whatever it is I lost during my inactivity last month. I can't put my finger on whatever it was (Strength? Cardio? A little swagger?) but it's probably best labeled as ring rust and I don't think it will be around much longer.

In a way, this week has been a classic example of the proverbial leap "out of the frying pan and into the fire" - namely, I've already had an aggressive sparring session with one of the other, better competitive boxers from my gym. The quasi-bout was scored for the gym's ongoing team training competition, of which I'm sort of a hired gun since I really only come in to spar on behalf of the red team on Saturdays and do my own the thing the rest of the week. Regardless of my role, the competition is being filmed for a local network as a reality TV show, so it's exciting to have some intense sparring that's a little more high-stakes than just an ordinary workout or inter-gym competition.

Having said that, this is my 2nd "televised" bout and my 2nd victory. The dude I moved around with usually has an uber-high work rate and is constantly coming forward. Where that can give anyone trouble on the right (wrong?) days, I made sure to punch first, doubling and tripling my jab and throwing lots of lead right hands to keep him honest and at a good distance. With my range and power shots established, I was able to pick my spots to cut off the ring, angle in and flurry effectively.

So while I didn't feel as energized and strong as I did just a few weeks ago, I was able to outbox, outwork and out-land my opponent all 3 rounds. It was a borderline clinic...and I have the broadcast to prove it. (No big deal...)

At the end of my workout, my trainer said he wants me to fight in a big exhibition this Friday to stay active. Not only am I chomping at the bit to box, box and box, but I've found that having a hard date to work towards helps me push my limits within individual workouts leading up to it. It's not that I need the help getting to the gym or working hard, so much as this provides the sense of desperation and purpose that helps me keep the pedal to the floor even when fatigue starts setting in. After all, a bout's not an exam - you can't cram for it. A scheduled, confirmed date keeps me honest.

I had a few random notes that I wanted to touch on, but this post is getting long and I know y'all have other boxing news to catch up on. (Anyone else agree that we're in the beginning weeks of a pretty good stretch of boxing match-ups?) Definitely stay tuned though - with the upswing of action in the gym, I'm also planning on injecting some life into this blog and changing...stuff. No set plans yet, but this place needs a face-lift.

On the up and up...

Escaping the doldrums

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Moreland) — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 01:40:00 +0000

There's an old training adage that says "the hardest step of a workout is the first one out your front door." I've never had this problem in the literal sense, but fresh off my mini-hiatus, I'm learning that the hardest part of climbing a mountain again is standing at the base and remembering that you've been to the top before.

My workouts this week haven't been bad, but they haven't been "right." Cross-training has kept me in great physical condition, but I'm no longer in top boxing shape (yes, there is a difference and yes, you can lose it in just a few weeks.) It's almost a sort of foreign feeling - my mind is still sharp, but my body's lagging just a half millisecond behind. There's a wee bit less snap on my jab, not quite as much thud on my right cross and my footwork (or rather everything from my shoulders down) feels a little clunky. I think this is as much a testament to how "peaked" I was last month moreso than how far and how quickly I've fallen. There's no reason I won't get it back - it's just an issue of making sure the ball's rolling again sooner rather than later.

On the flipside, I think the break did me good - namely, the aches and pains bothering me last fight have yet to resurface. The degenerative disc in my back still flares a little (hopefully just due to the gnarly New England weather) and the cartilage in my nose is still mangled, but neither of these things were going to heal on their own anyway and I'm used to rehabbing/working through the troubles they present. Mentally, I didn't really have any issues to take care of. My last lost was bogus, but I know how prepared (and quite frankly better) I was, so I'm all the more motivated to get back at it. That's one spark that won't go away until I get back in the win column...aka my next bout.

So there's no momentum yet, but I'm definitely off my haunches and back in the saddle. I really couldn't be gearing up again at a better time - my gym has a few new sponsors and apparently the TV crews that have been floating around are filming a mini-series for NESN, so the gym itself has some extra buzz to help me along.

The wind's at my back and the first step's been (re)taken - time to build some momentum and get moving again.

No news is not good news. At all.

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Moreland) — Thu, 15 Oct 2009 03:11:00 +0000

So can it still be called an update if you have nothing new to report? Or nothing good at least...

It's been mighty quiet on the boxing front as of late. As I've eased my way back into "full-time" training, my job also has transitioned back into "full-time overdrive super busy agency" mode, leaving me a bit short on time and energy the past week. A few days I've had to abandon my original plans to hit the boxing gym hard and instead resorted to just cross-training on my own. I don't know whether or not being so busy contributed to me getting sick this past weekend, but I was a few germs short of death for a few days and the only boxing I wanted to be a part of was on the "Latin Fury" card I was fortunate to attend live in New York. Speaking of which, did any of you all catch it on PPV? Lopez/Mtagawa has my early vote for Fight of the Year and Yuriorkis Gamboa still never ceases to amaze me. Even the most casual fight fans would enjoy these two bouts, so check them out if you can.

But anyway, work, a long weekend in NYC and a horrific, 72-hour variation of the 24-hour flu bug slowed my in-ring escapades to a near halt since last Saturday - which, fittingly was a great sparring session.

Which, unfortunately, might have been one of my final sparring sessions for awhile...

Because earlier today I visited a doctor about my recurring sinus problems and learned that I have a severely deviated septum. The doctor's descriptions ranged from comparing it to "an accordian," "a pretzel" and "a true boxer's septum," which I for some reason found to be a bit flattering. (Hey, you'd be trying to find something positive about it too...) The only treatment for a deviated septum is surgery, which then requires a recovery period involving 2 weeks with no strenuous activity and at least 4 weeks of no boxing.

In a way, I'm a little lucky that this is the extent of my first legit boxing-related injury in 8+ years, seeing how I've been living with the symptoms and can choose when I put boxing on hold and have the surgery...but man this sucks.

I'm now deciding whether I want to have the surgery ASAP(the doctor said the earliest he can schedule it would be early November) or just...sort of wait a bit and see. This whole breathing through one nostril thing is a super inconvenience and all, but, well, I want to box. (This much we know.) I still have goals I want to accomplish in the short-term, and I'm just three weeks removed from being a regional semifinalist in a tournament. I should be continuing to move forward, not taking a giant hiatus and leap backwards. It will be hard to step away not just from the ring but the gym altogether for a full month.

So until I decide when I'm going to suck it up and go under the knife, I'm working out at a feverish pace - enjoying it while I can, I guess - and trying to convince myself that I'm breathing just fine. Which I am, of course. Just...through a nostril that randomly starts whistling. And plugs up when the wind blows. But aside from that, nothing but clear breathing for this guy.

Here's to this next week being more productive in the ring than the last - or at the least, not confirming another unforeseen but unavoidable setback.

Onwards

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Moreland) — Sat, 03 Oct 2009 04:42:00 +0000

This is long overdue, so I'm just going to hop right into it - here's the recap of my bout last Saturday in the regional finals of the Rocky Marciano tournament:

I woke up early, as thirsty and hungry as expected, but in great spirits. Between the trip in my trainer's car and getting settled at the venue's locker room, I spent the hours before weigh-in channeling my inner Buddha - at peace, relaxed and just treating it like any other Saturday in the gym. When the scalemaster finally showed up, I hopped in line and weighed a whopping 147. (I guess I should have fried some wings the night before instead of nibbling on a grilled chicken breast...) Needless to say, I got right to work putting that weight back on had my first Powerbar unwrapped before I even put my shirt back on.

I went back to the locker room and relaxed, reading my book (fittingly, a bio on Roberto Duran) and munching on bananas, cold spaghetti and another protein bar. Surprisingly, I wasn't anxious in the least. On the contrary, I was doing what I loved and I knew with certainty that I was ready, so I truly had nothing to fear.

I warmed up, stretched out, had one of my cornermen wrap my hands (everyone should have their hands wrapped by someone else at least once - the light, airy snugness on your knuckles, using gauze instead of linen... it's pugilistic pampering) and before I knew it, my name was being called.

After weeks of training, sacrifice and preparation, it was finally time to put it all together and win some hardware.

My opponent came out at the opening bell with guns blazing, winding up on his toes and lunging at me with power punches in bunches. He was a strong kid and landed a few solid shots, but never hurt me and set a pace I knew was unmaintainable. He clinched a lot and rough-housed, but was only the 2nd toughest fighter in the ring. The bell rang and I went back to my corner knowing I was behind on points, but held a huge advantage in skill, strategy and stamina.

As expected, the 2nd round swayed drastically in my favor and at times was nothing short of a clinic. My opponent wanted to brawl, throw bombs and tie up, but I kept my hands high and a steady diet of 1-2's in his face, and was never in range by the time he was ready to wind up and fire back. As the round progressed and his work (and success/land) rate decreased, he began clinching and holding more and more. He was trying to slow the fight down and keep it ugly, but it wasn't because that was his style - he was just that tired.

I came out for the 3rd round as fresh as I was in the 1st - not just because of adrenaline, but because I was in that good of shape and confident that I was going to blow my fatigued opponent away on the scorecards in the final 3 minutes. Unfortunately, he countered with his own secret weapon: more holding.

A lot more.

While the first half of the round was practically flawless for me, the 2nd half might as well have been a foxtrot lesson - my opponent wouldn't quit bear-hugging me and the ref pulled a vanishing act, never stepping it in to break us up and get him off me. While I still landed a few stiff, short uppercuts and squeezed in a few hooks and right hands, I was literally tied up for the entire 2nd half of the round.

When the final bell rang, my opponent didn't need to step in to embrace me - he already had me wrapped up, so he just relaxed, dropped his guard and said "great fight." I couldn't help but respond with a smirk "great fight dude...now quit holding me after the fight too."

I went back to my corner and took my gloves off, thoroughly satisfied with my performance and ready to have my hand raised in the middle of the ring.

But the end result? A split-decision victory for the bad guy.

And the margin on the deciding judge's scorecard? One point.

You can't make this up.

One point. I needed one more point for a draw, two for a victory. If the ref would have ran the fight differently (aka done his job at all and kept us boxing rather than sumo wrestling...) I know I would have erased that margin in seconds. So while I'm honestly not crying foul or conspiracy (how can I? all the holding affected my opponent too) I can't help but feel frustrated. The praise and assurances that I "should" have won are no consolation for not actually getting the W.

I could not have been more prepared for this fight. I could not have fought any smarter or stronger. I was in control. Strangers at ringside approached me and told me I won. If I had that minute+ of boxing (rather than snuggle time) during the final round, I have no doubts that it would have resulted in me being awarded a unanimous decision win.

Everything went right...except having the win on my record.

So I've spent the past week+ resting and clearing my head. My body needed the break, but for once my mind needed a little R&R outside the ring too. After all, you can't think about your next fight until you've moved on from your last. And while this was far from a negative experience, it admittedly took me a few days to look at it as a semi-positive bump in my boxing career.

So onwards I go. My batteries are re-charged and I've started to ease back into my full training routine. Tomorrow is my first sparring session since the bout and I feel like it will be the final step in burying my disappointment.

I posted it right before my fight and I'm sticking with it now: "Forget past mistakes. Forget failures. Forget everything except what you're going to do now and do it."

Regional Finals

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Moreland) — Wed, 16 Sep 2009 01:47:00 +0000

So I guess I should have posted this earlier, but in the same sitting as my last blog post I learned that the tournament organizers had adjusted the bout sheet and I was seeded to where I had a 1st round bye. So despite being as physically and mentally prepared as possible - including cutting my weight down - I did not fight last Saturday and will be fighting this coming Saturday, 9/19 in the regional finals in Pawtucket, RI.

While it's always nice to be given a shorter, more direct path to a championship, I must say that I'm a bit disappointed that I didn't fight last week. As mentioned above, I was truly peaked and ready to go. Instead, this week I feel a little banged up and sluggish. I feel like I'm having to rally my way to being fully prepared for Saturday, rather than simply riding a strong upswing like last week.

Don't get me wrong, I will be ready to fight and win Saturday. But, well, the extra week is proving to be as much of a nuisance as a convenience or blessing.

I did get to watch my opponent fight last week, and he is a strong kid and very talented boxer. I know what I need to do and am confident that if (when) I fight my fight and get him uncomfortable I can win this. Being able to strategize and visualize a victorious fight all week has been great.

So this week has been more of the same as last - tapering in the gym with shorter, more intense workouts, sharpening my mind, and dieting to keep my weight at the level I need. Tomorrow will be a vicious workout, and then Thursday and Friday will be (very) much-needed rest days.

Tomorrow also is my birthday. And I don't mind at all that I'll be spending it at the gym, wearing myself out with my training partners and chanting this mantra:

"Forget past mistakes. Forget failures. Forget everything except what you're going to do now and do it." - William Durant

And it's as simple as that. Let's do it.

Closing Camp

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Moreland) — Thu, 10 Sep 2009 16:37:00 +0000

So last night was my last big workout before the bout Saturday - "camp" is officially closed and I need to switch gears and have my mental preparation catch up with my physical readiness.

Some doubts have started to set in, but I think it's more jitters than legit concerns. After all, I feel great, have been having a lot of success in the ring, and got a vote of confidence from the gym owner tonight that all I need to do now is relax, have fun, and replicate all this when it counts Saturday.

My only regret, actually, is moving around with a kid last night that's notorious for cranking up the intensity randomly in the laziest of sparring sessions. He's a pretty decent boxer though, so I decided to change it up and work 4 rounds with him. As expected, he sprinkled some bombs into his flurries throughout our "light," final workout - including 3 well after the final bell that earned groans from a few onlookers - catching me off guard a few times and marking me up a little. I'm not worried about the cosmetics so much as a little swelling and bleeding from my nose. Some wear and tear is nothing new, but I just hate not being 100000001% going into a fight, especially when it's the result of some shenanigans 96 hours before. Such is life in the ring I guess and I doubt I'm the only boxer sporting some pre-existing war wounds at the weigh-in. Besides, I definitely would have won on the scorecards if it was "official" last night, so the underlying message is that I'm ready to dish it as well as receive. But in the meanwhile, here's to clear airways and not looking any more of a mess leaving the ring Saturday as I do going into it.

Randoms:

- I keep thinking of a quote from Manny Pacquiao on an episode of Hatton-Pacquio 24/7 that was along the lines of: "Training is the hard part. If you train hard, then the fight is easy." Now obviously there are a million variations to this quote, like "The harder you train, the luckier you get" and "The more you sweat, the less you bleed." While all are valid (albeit a bit cliche) there was something about how Pac-Man said this that stuck out as being genuine and profound. Just something that's crossed my mind a few times the past few weeks...

- I weighed in at 153 before my workouts each of the last two days, and well under 150 after each. At the risk of jinxing myself, I don't think I'm going to have to gas myself too much to make weight Saturday at 9 a.m. Early dinner, no water, lots of sleep, no breakfast or fluids until I step off the scale...should be all set.

- Speaking of weight, my roommate made cookies last night. I made her hide them.

This is what it's all about. I put in my time, paid my dues, now I just need to piece it all together, clear my head and go win some hardware.

1 Week Out

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Moreland) — Sat, 05 Sep 2009 21:10:00 +0000

So in exactly 1 week I'll be fighting in the Rocky Marciano Tournament of Champions and I can honestly say that I have done everything possible - both effort, mindset and results - to win this thing.

I sparred today with a kid who normally gives me a fair amount of problems - or rather, when I don't fight smart, he makes me eat some leather. He's pretty slick, all his punches are straight, and he seems to always be moving backwards, so the last thing I ever want to do is just go plodding in on a straight line. The past few months we've had some pretty competitive rounds, establishing a very noticeable trend that climaxed today.

And that trend, of course, is me being more boxer/less brawler and in the best shape of my life. Because today, after the 2nd round, my trainer called off the clinic I was putting on to spare the kid from the lopsided hurtin' I was going to continue to put on him in the 3rd.

I feel fast, strong and smart. I'm beating people to the punch, counterpunching with pop and just flat out-working, out-hustling, out-thinking and plain old out-boxing everyone I've moved around with lately. Bag work, mitts, plyos, everything just feels good. And this isn't me blowing my own horn so much as finally seeing the signs (feeling) that I'm peaking at the exact right time.

Since I only got in 2 rounds of sparring today, I immediately hit the bag circuit hard, rotating between the heavy, hook and uppercut bags for 8 rounds. I finished the day with 3 rounds of mitts, 20 minutes of plyos for my legs, 3 rounds of shadowboxing and abs. And my weight at the end of it all? 150.

Life in the ring is good.

Some random notes:

- Just clicked on a thread titled "It's International Bacon Day!" on the message board I always visit. The pics in it made me want to cry. I'm already itching for a burrito and now bacon...just...I need to stop writing about it and think about something other than food.

- Tomorrow will be my last day lifting before the fight. I plan on doing my "usual" upper body weight routine, but tacking on some additional miles to my road work. I intend on running every morning before work between now and fight night, regardless of the workout planned for that night. I want to keep my weight where it is now so I don't have to kill myself cutting down Friday night.

- Juan Manuel Marquez just drank his own pee on the 2nd episode of 24/7. PBF is acting strangely humble and has just gone a full hour without getting on my nerves. This makes no sense. Anyone else witnessing this madness?

- Cutting weight is hell. Don't know if I've mentioned that yet...

This is what it's all about, folks. Eyes on the prize...

10 days out

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Moreland) — Sat, 29 Aug 2009 15:41:00 +0000

So I'm 10 days out from the big fight and everything still seems to be hitting on all cylinders. I feel great - my stamina's up, my gloves are popping, I'm fighting smart and I just feel fresh and ready. To bullet out some random musings...

- Samson had his hair, I have my high socks. Honest to goodness, I don't box as well wearing normal socks as I do when I wear my long ones pulled mid-way up my shins. Fashionable AND functional...somehow.

- I went 8 rounds total between 3 different sparring partners this Saturday and felt fantastic throughout. What's more, I stopped a kid with a body shot for the first time ever. (Ever meaning I've never done that before in all my days and rounds.) This is a definite indicator that things are progressing. I'd be a bit more impressed with myself if it was in an actual bout and against someone other than a rotating sparring partner from my gym, but, well, this is good stuff. So here's to repeating the kayo when it counts on the 12th.

- Confession: the best part about my marathon sparring session Saturday is the fact that I went out Friday night and admittedly partied entirely too hard. But rather than having a sluggish, frustrating-to-the-point-I'm-sick (hungover) workout, I had one of my best in recent memories. That's how I know I'm ready for this bout. And yes, I realize that Saturday was me using my "get out of jail free card" and I don't plan on boozing between now and fight night.

- My two favorite combos this month:

First, is a lead hook-2. I show the lead hook, tipping the punch a shade with my shoulder and throwing it a little wide. Whether it connects for points or not (ideally it does, but it's a set-up) I get my opponent to commit to it and step in with my back foot, blasting a straight right (my ham-muh) through the shoot. This has been working incredibly effectively as of late, especially after a series of jabs that gets them cheating on the straight, peppering punches.

My other favorite is a 1-2-step-through/step-over that leads to, well, whatever punches I want - usually a big right hand, but sometimes I'll wind-up and come through with a hook to the body. I've gotten really good at hiding this movement behind my right hand, stepping through (almost hopping) and pivoting quickly, staying tight so I can get my final punch/combo off quickly and trapping my opponent behind behind my trail leg. Why I didn't toy with my footwork months (hell, years) ago, I'll never know.

- I have to renew my fight passport before the 12th and just mailed off my application today. My trainer's not worried that it'll get there, be processed and returned all in time for the tourney, but I can't help but be anxious. It'd be just my luck to find out during weigh-in that my paperwork's not in order and I can't compete. Aw hell, did I just jinx myself?

- Not having to cut huge amounts of weight is sweet. And that's all I have to say about that.

More updates as they happen in the coming days. Getting pumped...

The beat goes on

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Moreland) — Tue, 25 Aug 2009 02:16:00 +0000

I didn't mean for it to be 2 weeks (yet again) before another update, but luckily it's been business as usual inside the ring and out.

As of today I'm officially registered for the Rocky Marciano tournament. I'll be fighting at 152 lbs. and my first bout is Saturday, September 12. The tournament is huge and the 1st round is going to be scattered across four different venues, so I'm still waiting to see my exact draw. Regardless, my trainer likes my chances to really make some noise and maybe take the whole thing (for serious) and I'm excited to fight for some hardware for the first time in 2009.

Speaking of bouts, my last one is almost an afterthought at this point, which isn't downplaying its size or outcome. For once in my life the other guy started off as the aggressor, constantly coming forward and throwing nothing but loopy power punches. And, for the first time in my life, I didn't immediately toe the line and bang with him, choosing instead to counterpunch, keep my jab in his face, build some distance with lead right hands and work some angles to outbox him until the 3rd round. By the last 2 minutes of the bout, he was tired and moving backwards, dropping his hands and allowing me to let my hands go, brawl a bit and score enough points to steal the fight. So I boxed a brawler. And it worked. Imagine that.

Since then I've been getting regular sparring in, which has been going equally well. I've been getting a lot of different looks from the wide array of skilled/sized boxers we have in the gym, so while my sparring partners aren't all tough S.O.B.'s like my last opponent, they're giving me the opportunity to continue to work on all aspects of my game. What's more, my trainer has continued working the focus mitts with me early and often, and then screaming while I'm sparring for some of the step-throughs, angles and combos we've been working on to really ingrain them in my muscle memory and make them second nature. I'm truly re-creating myself in the ring, and it's thanks to my work ethic finally getting the rounds and expert attention it's needed.

With the long workouts and increased sparring has come some aches and injuries, namely my nagging back acting up again and some soreness in my right hand. While my "ham-muh" hurting is new, my old-man's back is something I've learned to deal with, so I'll just have to listen to my body and keep on keepin' on as much as possible.

I'm going to be updating this more frequently the next 2 weeks as I gear up for this tourney. Big things ahead, people. Onwards I go...