I Can Take It We Can Take It

The year was 1934. I was 19 years old. I decided that boxing might be the end to the means for me to earn some big money. Mom and the rest of the family certainly needed more money to survive and to feed all of those children. I was a tough cookie in my own mind. I was in the welterweight fighting class and had not lost a street fight ever. My brothers and friends told me that I was tough and that I had fists of stone. This was my first professional fight and the prize for the winner was $90. That was three month’s salaries in my current job. That was big money. I was prepped and ready to do battle. I was as ready as I would ever be. Fists of stone don’t fail me now! My first professional boxing battle was with a seasoned pro named Sonny Boy. Sonny Boy was a black man from my hometown. I knew him, or better yet, I knew of him. Sonny Boy didn’t have too much of a winning record, so I thought he would be a relatively easy opponent for my first real professional fight. Shit, I was so wrong. Sonny Boy was a very tough opponent indeed. Sonny Boy fought me hard. Sonny Boy wanted that prize money as much as I wanted that prize money. Sonny Boy broke my nose in the fourth round with a straight left jab. Goddamn that left jab stung like a crazed bee! Sonny Boy and I had a long, hard ten round battle. Thank goodness that I was a lot younger and I was a lot quicker than my opponent. I was able to out point Sonny Boy in ten rounds even with my nose flattened. He punched way harder than I anticipated. I won my first professional fight in a 10-round decision, but I may have to seriously rethink this professional boxing dream. There’s a hell of a lot tougher guys than Sonny Boy out there in the boxing world. Boxing may not be that road that I wanted to travel, maybe a road less traveled for sure. Let me sleep on this and heal my broken nose for the time being. That $90 win was really good though and my family certainly needed the money. My stupid, short-sighted rationalization was that I was a young buck, I was tough enough and I was good enough to do battle with anyone my size. I just needed some time to heal. Fuckin’ Sonny Boy, Jesus, he popped me but good! Aw, c’mon’ Ralph, you big pussy, buck up you fuckin’ baby! Hard times means a hard life! You know that! Fuckin’ depression, what a bitch! God Damn, my nose hurts! I don’t know if I really want to fight for money any more. Shit! Let me find some ice to put on my broken beak! Fuckin’ Sonny Boy! Man, you hit hard!