The Boxing Gym – Part 1: Hand Wraps

"Breathe out when you punch," said Ravi.

"I'm breathing," said Cathal.

"You're holding it like a secret."

Cathal let out a long, shaky breath, fists up, in the middle of a Dublin boxing gym on a Tuesday night, with strip lights humming overhead, speed bags rattling like machine guns and the sweet, sharp smell of leather and liniment. Mats were scuffed grey. A huge poster of a champion peeled from the wall. Rain drummed on the corrugated roof.

He was thirty-three, an accountant, tall and slightly hunched, in a faded grey T-shirt, with wire-framed glasses he had been told to leave off and hadn't. Ravi, thirty, the coach, was small and compact, with a shaved head, quick dark eyes and a soft, unhurried voice. He held a pair of padded mitts. He wore a T-shirt that said BE KIND. HIT HARD.

"Jab," said Ravi.

Cathal threw a punch. It landed on the pad with a polite pat.

"Again."

Pat.

"Again."

Pat.

Ravi smiled. "You apologise when you punch."

"I do not."

"You said sorry."

"I did not."

"You said it with your face." Ravi lowered the mitts. "Why are you here?"

Cathal looked at his wraps. "I flinch. At everything. Loud noises, arguments, my boss. I thought if I learned to throw a punch, I might stop being afraid of one."

A pause. Ravi's face softened. He put the mitts down on the bench and took Cathal's hands in his, carefully re-wrapping the long strips of cloth round his knuckles. His fingers were warm and sure. "You do not have to hit anyone," he said. "You only have to know you could."

"That's the lesson?"

"It is the first one."

For weeks, Cathal trained three evenings a week. He learned to move his feet, to keep his chin down, to slip a feint. He learned to breathe out. The pats became thuds. One evening in November, he threw a jab-cross-hook that cracked off the pads like a whip. Ravi staggered back, laughing.

"There he is!"

"That was me?"

"That was you."

"Can I ask you something?" said Cathal, grinning, glowing.

"Yes."

"Why are you so kind to me?"

"Because you try," said Ravi. "Most people only talk."

"Green?" said Cathal, a bell, a glove.

"Green," said Ravi, smiling. "Very green. Again."

Continue the story: Part 2 – The Sparring Round.