By Binnie Klein

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

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Extra info for Blows to the Head: How Boxing Changed My Mind

Sample text

That was my sport. ” Mr. Kanowith screams, aroused by his favorite barbaric romp for young girls. Ben Stiller made a silly movie about the game—he called it Dodgeball. But because the object of the game was to try to hit, slam, and pound your opponent with a volleyball, anywhere on her body, and became such a brutal ritual, causing even dormant racial tensions to surface, I’ve always found Bombardment a more fitting name. Newark schools were racially diverse, and the Weequahic section was mainly a mixture of blacks and Jews.

I followed him, legs trembling, into his office where I wrote out my first check. 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.

Aaaahhhh, yes. My brains are useful here, as are my Slavic legs. I have found my place in the universe. Women are better students of boxing. Along with being nonathletic, all I’d heard all my life was that men were stronger than women. Men were stronger than women, Jews didn’t ski; the beliefs just went on and on. John hadn’t said anything about women’s innate strength; he said we were better students. Of course you’d hear, too, that women thought too much, felt too much; people still mentioned it in conversations about a woman being president.

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