Boyfight

"Chasing Perfection"

            It was my first official day of training and even though Leo wasn't there to guide me, I knew I could do what needed to be done. When it came to my training routine, I had a series of steps that I had to take seriously. The first step was to get my mind in the right place and to stop thinking about anything that brought me negative energy. The second step was to completely change my diet from eating what I wanted to eating nothing but meat, peanuts, raw vegetables and fruits and drinking nothing but water. The third step was to go to the gym every single day and do one hour of non-stop cardio, one hour of weight training, and one hour of sparring practice. For the first time in a long time, my sparring partner was Malik. The last step was a highly crucial rule: no sex whatsoever until after the fight. I swear that rule was always easier said than done.

            "Nigga, you gonna make me pop one of my stitches," Malik said while shoving me in the ring. "Calm yo hyped up ass down."

            "Sorry, bruh," I offered. "I know this is just day one but I'm ready to fight that punk ass bitch, Amir."

            "I wanna see you beat his ass, too. He lucky I ain't about that goon action no more. Now let me see your combos again. And this time don't hit my gear so hard."

            I punched the boxing pads he was holding repeatedly in different combinations and after a few hits, he began swinging back at me to test my reflexes. Like both me and Amir, Malik's arms had great reaching distance so he was the perfect person to practice sparring with. Even though he was still sore from the beating he'd taken, he toughed out the pain and matched me in every single move in the ring that day. After practice was over and we were both trying to catch our breaths, I sat down in the middle of the ring with him and asked him for his help with something important.

            I looked at him as I explained, "Now that Leo's sick and is gonna be away from this place for a while, I'm gonna need your help."

            "You know I got you, bruh," he said before taking a sip of water. "Anything you need."

            "Help me run this gym."

            When I said that, he sat up straight and gave me a serious look before asking, "You for real?"

            "Yeah, man. I know you told me yesterday you're gonna try to get into school to get your barber's license but in the meantime, I could use your help around here. The young knuckleheads that come up in here might listen to you and your tales of life on the streets. Shit, you might be just what this place needs."

            "Killa, I don't know, man. I'd feel weird as fuck tryin' to be some role model after all the shit I done did."

            "You're walkin' away from the bullshit and that takes courage. How many times do I gotta tell you that? You know what you want out of life now, right?"

            "No, I don't. I'm not even close, man. I do wanna go to get my barber's license and one day I do wanna cut hair in my own shop, but that dream is a long ass time away from now. Sometimes I feel like I'm too far gone, bruh. It's like I've done too much shit to go back. People are gonna look at me and know the shit I've done or they'll guess the type of nigga I am and they won't be wrong about me. How can I turn this shit around without bein' reminded of what I did to people?"

            I looked up in the air for a second before looking back at him and asking, "Yo, do you remember the summer a few years back when we were nineteen and I fought that Italian dude Vito Poretti?"

            "He broke ya nose."

            "He damn near whooped my ass." I laughed for a second before continuing, "That lame ass motherfucker must've called me a nigger about twenty, twenty-five times during that fight. Usually, I'd lose my cool and go ham on a white boy for pullin' that shit. That kind of shit would make a nigga snap and punch below the belt and get disqualified. But you know why I didn't?"