Monday, September 26, 2005
Pain is good. Pain lets you know you're alive.
Erik Riley reminds his pupils of this as they huff their way through suicide drills in the Haskell Boxing Club's heat and mosquito-afflicted practice space. The makeshift gym is the size of two living rooms - barely large enough to contain the 10 amateur fighters in attendance for a Monday-evening workout.
If all goes according to plan, that number will decrease on Tuesday.
"I'm trying to make everybody quit," says Riley, who coaches the community boxing club at Haskell Indian Nations University.
"If you're on the fence, not knowing whether you want to box or not - I'm going to make you decide real quick. You're either going to throw up or you're going to start crying."
Riley's tough love is quite calculated: he doesn't want a bunch of overzealous fat-burners clogging up the arteries of Lawrence's only boxing club. With two volunteer coaches and minimal space and equipment, the club must focus its efforts on only the most serious of fighters.
"When we're in here, I'm mean as hell," Riley says. "If it was easier they'd call it football."
Erik Riley (left) is the coach of the Haskell Boxing Club. He met his star fighter Marcus Oliveira (right) at a "toughman" contest that he hosted in his garage.
Oliveira gallery
There's no "Million Dollar Baby" working out with the Haskell Boxing Club - yet.
When Marcus Oliveira turns pro next month, the club will have graduated its first amateur fighter to the ranks of the paid. The 25-year-old pugilist didn't start his career at Haskell, but it's where he honed his skills as he fought his way through dozens of amateur victories (and nearly as many losses).
"I'm most comfortable when I get in the ring to fight," says Oliveira, who has been ranked as high as No. 10 in the country (heavyweight division). "I feel prepared because I've been doing this for so long and I've fought a lot of pro fighters."
Audio interviews
Like the rest of the boxers who will step in the ring Saturday at Haskell's "Amateur Fight Night," Oliveira has never made a dime off of his skills. He still holds down a full-time job at Wendy's and he still has to scrape together money every time he wants to travel to a national competition.
Such challenges have been the norm since Riley and Oliveira befriended each other three years ago at a backyard "toughman" contest. After getting his ass whooped in 30 seconds, Riley decided he'd probably be better off coaching Oliveira.
"I just sucked it up and started learning as much as I could," Riley says. "I go everywhere and interview coaches ... I don't watch any other sport besides boxing. I don't care about basketball, football - I don't even know who won the Super Bowl."
Haskell student Nick Wilder works out on a speed bag in the boxing club's makeshift gym.
Three hard-fought years later, Riley thinks his buddy has a chance to beat the best that pro boxing has to offer.
"He's not like other fighters who stick their chest out, cuss and say they're the best," Riley says. "Marcus can knock you out with one punch, but you can go up to him and push him around and he won't do anything because he knows exactly what he can do."
Marital arts
Dedicated fighters like Oliviera are the kind that Riley and fellow coach Sean Edinger spend five nights a week trying to develop.
The club attracts primarily Haskell students and alumni, but also other people from throughout the community. Founded three years ago by a group of fighters who grew tired of driving to Topeka to find a facility, the club has endured with minimal funding from the university and zero dues from its members.
"Most of amateur boxing is free or very nearly free, just because of the segment of the population that it attracts," says Edinger, who also works as a trainer for the Lawrence Athletic Club.
Past Event
Amateur Fight Night
- Saturday, October 1, 2005, 7 p.m.
- Haskell Indian Nations University, 155 Indian Ave., Lawrence
- All ages / $5 - $10
"The majority (of our fighters) are minority, lower social bracket, lower income," he says. "That segment of the population tends to be more attracted to boxing as opposed to all the upper-middle-class white Overland Park kids that are all about KU basketball."
Edinger, 33, is one of the few club members who didn't grow up on a reservation. He joined forces with the club because he picked up boxing as a hobby following his retirement from the U.S. National Karate Team. Though Edinger is one of the club's best boxers, he has no ambition to compete.
"The problem with me is I get all OCD about it - if I start to train like I'm going to step in the ring and fight with somebody, I get completely absorbed with it," Edinger says. "I'm not about to do that. I've got a wife and a job and other things that need attention besides just me."
Plus, his wife needs help with her technique.
"My nose has been hurting for two weeks," says Amanda Edinger, a 26-year-old preschool teacher at Hilltop Elementary who recently started sparring in preparation for her first official fight.
"Sometimes you ask yourself, 'Why do I keep doing this?' ... It's just a rush, I guess."
Amanda Edinger spars with her husband, Sean, to prepare for "Amateur Fight Night." After three years of training, Amanda will fight her first bout this weekend.
Mixed motives
After three years of training, Amanda is ready to get in the ring. She won't know who her opponent is until Saturday night, and she could be forced to withdraw if no female matches up with her skill level (novice) and weight division (bantamweight).
"I get butterflies every time I think about it," she says. "I'm not really worried about getting hurt - I just don't want to lose."
Thanks to protective headgear and judges who are quick to stop one-sided fights, the world of amateur boxing is less dangerous than pro boxing. Bloody noses and dislocated shoulders are common (Amanda actually sat out eight weeks after throwing a wide punch that popped her shoulder), but the risk of serious injury is minimized.
"You don't get quite the brain damage that you get from professional fighting," Amanda says. "If somebody's hurt and obviously dizzied by a punch, they're going to stop the fight, rather than a professional match where you have to go on because you're getting paid."
The club is cautious with its fighters, prepping them with months or even years of training before they begin sparring. Some aspiring fighters simply focus on building up their bodies, postponing the inevitable decision of whether to jump in the ring.
Haskell freshman Ronnie Mizner dodges a punch while sparring with Haskell junior Nate Taylor.
Chester Mandam, a 26-year-old Haskell student, has worked out with the club for three years. He says the health benefits alone offer enough reason to get involved.
"If you exercise when you're a young Native American, you have a less chance of becoming a diabetic when you're older," says Mandam, who has also lost 20 pounds since joining. "It also makes you tougher mentally - you don't quit things as easily ... I don't go out and drink or anything because of this."
Freshman fighter James George imagines a potential career in boxing. The 19-year-old Haskell student says that one day he wants to be as good as Oliveira.
"I thought I was good when I first came here, but then I saw Marcus," George says. "My friends around here are like, 'You're a boxer? I can beat you up.' I want to show them that I can really fight. I want to fight in front of Haskell."
Turn up the heat
"Amateur Fight Night" will be the third public event that the Haskell Boxing Club has hosted. A portion of the earnings will be donated to the family of Daryl Jack, a Haskell boxer who died in a car accident last August. The rest of the door money will help support the club.
Boxer Muadianvita Kazadi "Kaz" watches his fellow competitors as he waits his turn to spar.
"It would be nice to have more people involved so we could get some nicer stuff," Amanda says. "Our heavy bags are duct-taped shut ... We have a certain area of the floor that we know is the 'ring.'"
Boxing fans shouldn't confuse Haskell's "Amateur Fight Night" with similarly named events at Coyote's and The Ranch that feature inexperienced fighters pummeling each other with oversized gloves, Sean says.
"I think people are going to walk in and be pleasantly surprised that people actually know how to fight," he says. "It's not some jackass kid that had a couple of drinks in him and thought he was tough ... One minute rounds and one minute of rest? That's bunk; that's just trash."
The evening will feature approximately 12 three-round fights that pit the Haskell club's fighters against boxers from visiting clubs.
"We expect no less than everybody to win their match," Sean says. "We want all our fighters to just go out and blank everybody."
The club will continue to train throughout the winter, when it will crank up the heaters and shut the doors to the gym (warm temperatures lessen the risk of muscle injuries).
The doors will, however, remain open to anyone with a desire to fight and the dedication to see it through.
"Every young man who steps through the doors of the boxing gym thinks he's the toughest guy in the world," Edinger says. "Ninety percent don't even last through the workouts."
