![\"Vintage](\"https:\/\/content.artofmanliness.com\/uploads\/\/2013\/07\/takeapunch.png\")
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Editor’s note: This is a guest post from Billy Coffey.<\/a><\/em> Four years ago\u2026<\/p>\n It started the way most good stories do, over lunch with a friend. This particular friend was named Charlie, an iron-fisted brawler disguised as a nerdy engineer who worked in the building next to mine.<\/p>\n \u201cYou should stop by tonight,\u201d he said. \u201cGreat workout. It\u2019ll make a man out of you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m already a man,\u201d I answered.<\/p>\n Charlie nodded and said, \u201cMaybe. You ever been punched?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n He put his fork down, looked me in the eye, and said, \u201cA man never knows what he\u2019s made of until he gets punched.\u201d<\/p>\n I didn\u2019t know what that meant, but it sounded philosophical enough to get my attention. \u201cI\u2019ll be there,\u201d I told him.<\/p>\n All true boxing gyms are located in much the same place \u2014 the nearest poor neighborhood of the nearest city (you\u2019ve seen Rocky III<\/em>, right?). Which made getting there from the quiet confines of the country an adventure in itself. Charlie had warned me that the gym was much more old school than new, and he was right. There was no heat, no air, and no bathroom. There was merely a ring, several punching bags, dirty mirrors for shadowboxing, and a bucket to throw up in when the trainers pushed you that far. Written in bright red letters above the ring were the words “JESUS SAVES.”<\/p>\n It was, in a word, perfect.<\/p>\n I met with Charlie, the fighters who were warming up, and the trainers. \u201cGotta hand it to you,\u201d the head trainer said. \u201cTakes stones to show up the first time on sparring night.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSparring night?\u201d I asked. I looked at Charlie, who had looked away. I could see the smile on his face, though.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re gettin\u2019 in the ring, right?\u201d the trainer asked me.<\/p>\n Gettin\u2019 in the ring? No, I was not gettin\u2019 in the ring. I was not stupid.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, I\u2019m gettin\u2019 in,\u201d I said. Because macho manliness trumps stupidity every day of the week and twice on Thursday.<\/p>\n \u201cGood,\u201d the trainer said. \u201cYou can get in with me, then.\u201d<\/p>\n Charlie looked at me with a look that was part humor and part “Oh, boy.”<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d I asked him.<\/p>\n \u201cNothing,\u201d he said. \u201cYou\u2019ll be fine.\u201d<\/p>\n I stared at him.<\/p>\n \u201cHe won Tough Man last year,\u201d he confessed. \u201cBut don\u2019t worry.\u201d<\/p>\n Don\u2019t worry. Famous last words<\/a> of rednecks everywhere. On par with, “Hey ya\u2019ll, watch this!”<\/p>\n So. Into the ring.<\/p>\n Charlie adjusted my headgear and said, \u201cMove. Don\u2019t forget that.\u201d<\/p>\n I nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cAnd keep your hands up. Block and punch. Make your defense offense.\u201d<\/p>\n I nodded again.<\/p>\n He checked my gloves and wiped them against his T-shirt. \u201cAnd for the love of God Almighty, keep your chin down. You expose that chin, and you\u2019re a goner.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI ain\u2019t goin\u2019 down,\u201d I said, and smiled to prove it. \u201cSo what is this, sparring or more?\u201d<\/p>\n Charlie looked across the ring, paused, and said, \u201cHe\u2019ll let you know. And wipe that smirk off your face. This will not be fun for you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat makes you think\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n And that\u2019s all I managed to say. I was silenced by Charlie shoving my mouthpiece in and yelling, \u201cTime!\u201d<\/p>\n We met in the center of the ring (\u201cHands up,\u201d Charlie shouted. \u201cMove\u2026move!\u201d), touched gloves, and nodded to one another.<\/p>\n I\u2019d taken plenty of martial arts, and sparring in a dojo was very controlled and normally done at half-speed. But this wasn\u2019t a dojo, and I wasn\u2019t sure what I was supposed to do.<\/p>\n \u201cSo,\u201d I said to the trainer, circling him, \u201cwhat am I\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n SMACK!!<\/strong> \u201cMove!\u201d Charlie shouted.<\/p>\n SMACK-SMACK-SMACK!<\/strong><\/p>\n Jab-jab-cross.<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t stand there, do something!\u201d<\/p>\n Boxing is controlled violence. It is technique. It is the mastery of how to punch<\/a> and angles that are honed to precision by countless hours of training. Anger won\u2019t get you through ten rounds in the ring.<\/p>\n It will, however, get you through one. Because when that right cross snuck through my headgear and cut my eye, I got mad. Very mad.<\/p>\n He threw another jab, but I slipped it to the left and threw a hook into his side and another to the side of his head. His eyes widened a bit, and Charlie yelled, \u201cYes! Stick and move! Thirty seconds!\u201d<\/p>\n I learned that night that thirty seconds in a boxing ring is a lot longer than thirty seconds outside of one. Because it felt like we stood in the middle of that ring pounding on each other for an eternity.<\/p>\n \u201cTime!\u201d Charlie shouted. Finally.<\/p>\n We stood there in the middle of the ring, smiling. \u201cAwesome,\u201d the trainer said.<\/p>\n Awesome indeed.<\/p>\n That gym was my home away from home for a while, but in the end family and a lack of time forced me to quit. But there\u2019s still a heavy bag in our exercise room, and I still go a few rounds on it every night.<\/p>\n Because Charlie was right. You don\u2019t know what you\u2019re made of until you get punched. And whether that punch comes by standing in the middle of a boxing ring or the middle of a life, you survive the same way. You keep your chin down, you keep moving, and you never stop swinging.<\/p>\n We\u2019re all going to get hit sooner or later. It\u2019s a given in this world. But I know this. I can take a punch. I\u2019ve taken many. But I can give one, too.<\/p>\n _____________<\/em><\/p>\n Billy Coffey is a part-time writer and a full-time father. Check out his newest novel When Mockingbirds Sing<\/a><\/strong> and meet him on his blog, www.billycoffey.com<\/a><\/em>.<\/em><\/p>\n <\/b><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Editor’s note: This is a guest post from Billy Coffey. Four years ago\u2026 It started the way most good stories do, over lunch with a friend. This particular friend was named Charlie, an iron-fisted brawler disguised as a nerdy engineer who worked in the building next to mine. \u201cYou should stop by tonight,\u201d he said. 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\nHe threw a jab that managed to sneak between my headgear and connect with my nose. And it was not at half-speed. It was so fast I didn\u2019t see his hand until he was pulling it away from my face.<\/p>\n