When I was a skinny young fella of twelve, my Daddy grabbed hold of me
and sent me down the path of the Sweet Science.
He'd been a Golden Gloves boxer, himself - boxed on aircraft carriers
in the Pacific in the Great War - and he thought that he would give
his young son an edge - by introducing him to the world of sweat and
I have to admit that I loved it.
I fought until I was seventeen, did well enough to never have a
problem with street bullies or other fools, but wasn't good enough to
go to The Garden.
I got my nose broken twice, luckily in different directions, so it
looks half-assed straight now. (watch out for body punchers who decide
to go upstairs.)
Boxing was a great part of my education growing up - but it did not
prepare me for what would happen on UseNet.
I still hit the heavy bag from time to time (twice a week - maybe),
and work the speed almost every day, for about fifteen minutes. (
those of you are above the age of fifty know that this is more than
enough.) I'll confess that the jumprope has been consigned to other
I know that we can't hit these little punks - but I do have a dream of
a three minute round with a Troll.
Tom Watson - WoodDorker