Blows to the Head: How Boxing Changed My Mind by Binnie Klein

By Binnie Klein

A provocative story of an not going contender and her midlife transformation via boxing.

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Sample text

The mystery therapists may be perfectly helpful therapists; they just don’t roll that way. But there are the inevitable clues emanating from their faces and their walls, whether their humor is direct, sardonic, or missing altogether; whether their offices are adorned with Klee prints and tasteful soapstone sculptures or a just a dusty row of crookedly hung diplomas; whether they are outfitted in blazers and chinos or Flax clothing and chunky jewelry; and whether the car sitting in the therapist’s space is a Prius with a Think Globally, Act Locally sticker or a brand-new Saab with a ski rack.

My Yiddishe Mama” was played as Barney Ross entered the ring. During this Golden Age of Boxing, the amount of boxing activity was remarkable. Most fighters averaged at least one fight a month—compare this to today’s professional boxers averaging fewer than six fights a year. As more economic opportunities opened up, boxing’s torch was taken up by the Irish, Italians, African Americans, and Hispanics. As much as boxing has pitted ethnic groups against each other, it has also presented rare opportunities for minorities to advance.

My hands shook and I scrawled my name. My signature was straight out of second grade, loopy and insane. ” I thrilled at his words, trying to mop up some sweat with my shaking hand. So there would be a next time, a second date? You’ll call me? John leaned back in his swiveling chair. Then came the diagnosis. Dry your eyes, doctor’s coming in. “Well, you have good body mechanics, you’re not uncoordinated, and when you relax you have some power. ” I floated on those words for days. More important, boss was takin’ me on.

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