You Never Truly Boxed, My Son Poem by Randy McClave

If you have never stepped into a boxing ring
Or laced on a pair of leather gloves,
And if you have never waited for the bell to sing
Or walked through the crowds, pushes and the shoves.
If you have never tied on a pair of boxing shoes
Or had a used mouthpiece shoved between your teeth,
And if from a sport you never had cuts or stitches, but only a bruise
Then unto you, my sport I will bequeath.

If you have never entered into a ring wearing a boxing robe
Or sat on a stool and spit into a pail,
And if your blood has never been part of your corner's wardrobe
All that I can think or say is, "Oh Well".
If you have never sat and prayed before a fight
And never had smelling salts shoved up your nose,
While worrying about your opponent's left, or maybe his right
And always worrying about the head butts and his elbows.

If you have never had your hands and wrists taped up
And if you have never had Vaseline smeared underneath your eyes,
If you have never practiced with your own followup
While preparing to win your match, your prize.
If you have relied only on yourself in this one sport
And you had brought your own offense and defense, your style,
If you have never needed or asked for assistance as in a field or on a court
You are the one gladiator which many will revile.

If you have never sweated while pounding on a heavy bag
Or hit a speed bag or shadowboxed,
And if all that you did was to rest, brag and or boast
Then you probably were easily beaten and outfoxed.
If you have never fought a battle and then rested and strategize
While knowing more rounds of the same was prepared to come,
And then from your stool in your sweat and in blood, you did rise
Then, you have never truly boxed my son.

Randy L. McClave