Nicholas Jefferson was eight years old when he first walked through the doors of the Al Davies Boys and Girls Club, home of the Tacoma Boxing Club, just as Olympic and world champions – Leo Randolph, Sugar Ray Seales and Johnny Bumphus, to drop a few names – had as kids before him.
It’s an old story. Boy laces on gloves, boy falls in love.
“Man, you can get in a fight and not get in trouble?” he marveled. “Where do I sign up?”
Now, a good many of those old love stories don’t have legs. Boxing careers get derailed by the first punch to the face, the first set of wheels, friends, school, jobs or, alas, jail. Not to mention for-real love.
Nicholas Jefferson seems to be one of those boxers who understands that going the distance takes more than just the punch-lust that brings most of them through the door, and the dream – of Olympic gold or professional riches – that eventually takes hold. In that respect, Tom Mustin’s message must be getting through. More here. John Blanchette, SR
My husband contends the sport of boxing is dead. He says MMA fighting killed it and he much prefers Mixed Martial Arts. I don't like either.
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