[Previous entry: "Why Vitali's Size Does Matter"] [Main Index] [Next entry: "New England Chatta"]
04/26/2004 Archived Entry: "Sparring with Cruiserweight Chris Riley"
Sparring with Cruiserweight Chris Riley
By Juan C. Ayllon
Chicago, Illinois - It was April 24th. This late April Saturday afternoon, rain patted lightly—almost pleasantly—on sidewalks as pedestrians strolled nonchalantly past tidy and well-furbished stores typical of this section of town, the southwestern edge of Lincoln Park. At the southeast corner of Sheffield and North Avenue, a five story, modernistic steel and glass building stood out ominously in this low-rise section of town. It overshadowed traffic below, graced with more than its share of luxury sedans and SUV’s, whose well-scrubbed occupants appeared to have leapt off the pages of GQ and Harper magazines.
Looking up, one could see rows of stylish exercise equipment adjacent to the third and fourth floor windows of the structure and a sign sporting the logo, “Crunch Gym.” Inside, the 60,000 square foot gym featured immaculate, high end exercise equipment, a new red, white and blue boxing ring and a pool with a spectacular view of the city. The facility, wrapped in floor to ceiling glass exterior walls, dominated the third, fourth and fifth stories of the building. Walking into the open marbled atrium-foyer of the building, one could glance up and see a large plastic, orange enclosed slide spiraled playfully between the fifth and third floors of the gym, beckoning the uninitiated to come up and play.
Riley working with the CBZ's Ayllon
A sense of irony gripped me as I hurriedly climbed the staircase. I was 20 minutes late due to traffic snarled by rain on the Interstate. My meeting was with one Chris Riley, with whom I had come to spar. That is, Chris Riley, as in the former two-time super heavyweight Golden Gloves champion and fledging professional fighter.
At 43 years old and a good six months training from optimal shape, squaring off with a young bruiser like this felt anything but healthy to me. To my credit, I had lost over 30 pounds on the Atkins Diet this last year and was currently training several times a week at a local gym. I also was voted “most improved boxer” at a collegiate P.E. boxing class. However, that was twenty years ago. I also realized that I was still a good 40 pounds-plus over my “fighting weight.” Hence, despite assurances to the contrary by Riley’s people, a gnawing feeling of impending doom and apprehension loomed just beneath my optimistic veneer of ‘no guts, no glory’ outlook.
After checking in, I was warmly greeted by publicist Trayce Zimmerman. Her clients included Riley’s promoter, Bobby Hitz and famed boxer Johnny Tapia. She introduced me to two personal trainers, a female boxer whom I’d previously met and a burly, regular patron of the gym.
Glancing at her watch, she said, “I’m so sorry Chris is running late. It’s not like him to be late, honestly!” Killing time, she provided a brief tour of the fabulous gym, making a point to show off the lap pool—replete with an expansive view of the southwest portion of the city—where some of Bobby Hitz’ boxers swam for cardio work. Apparently, Crunch Gym allows Hitz Boxing Promotion fighters to train there for free in order to promote its boxing classes.
Following the tour, Chris Riley breezed in carrying an oversized, black gym bag and wearing a white sweatband, black nylon sweat pants and a sporty nylon jacket. With an easy going smile, he bore a striking resemblance to music rapper, ‘L.L. Cool J,” except in his case, a half-inch sutured area creased his left cheek ever so slightly just below the cheekbone. This was a fighter, after all. Riley clasped a few hands, exchanged warm pleasantries and a hug. Trayce Zimmerman introduced us. He offered a meaty, warm handshake.
Trayce asked us if we had met. He said that no, we had not. Turning to me, he added warmly, “I liked what you wrote in that report of yours; those were some very nice words!” [Editors note: Riley’s professional debut was covered in a previous article entitled, “For Kopytko, DQ Doesn’t Mean Dairy Queen”].
Good, I thought. He likes me. That’s definitely a good sign.
Riley set down his bag and apologized for running late.
Female boxer and fellow stable mate, Elizabeth Kerin asked him what his bodyweight was. He mumbled something like 200, 205 or so. Lighting up, he added that about a year ago, he weighed 278. Laughing, Kerin said, “You were ‘Fat Bastard,” referring to the comic villain of Austin Powers movie fame. Several onlookers laughed. Now, not only was Riley a trim and hard 200 pound cruiserweight, but he was also a prized physical trainer at Crunch Gym.
Ayllon finds his range with the southpaw jab
Curious, I asked him how he lost all that weight. He said, “Well, it was difficult. I went from eating two to three large meals to four or five small meals. I focused on eating enough to keep my energy up instead of eating to get full. I ate a lot of vegetables.” He added that he still missed his sweets and still caved in and ate his “Breyer’s Ice Cream” once a week or so.
Pulling out a new pair of training gloves from his gym bag, he tossed them to Kerin. “Those new?” Trayce asked. He said yes, visited with his friends for a few moments and then excused himself to change clothes in the locker room.
As Riley disappeared to the locker room, Zimmerman said incredulously, “Why does he have to change? This is a workout, after all!”
With that, Elizabeth Kerin assumed supervisory responsibilities of my last rites. She began with stretching exercises and a review of the basics of proper stance, throwing the right jab and the left cross, as this writer was a southpaw. She alternatively modeled and critiqued, making adjustments as necessary. Kerin put extra emphasis on keeping the rear foot raised on the balls of the foot and snapping the jab quickly without excessive turning of the shoulder into the punch. She said, “Don’t turn your shoulder; just snap it out.” Following about 10 minutes of drills, Riley returned from the locker room.
An exciting fighter in her own right, Kerin was momentarily sidelined from boxing action due to recent back surgery on a ruptured disk suffered while working as a ramp supervisor. Currently, she was apparently doing some light gym work to stay in shape.
At roughly 6’-2” and 170 sinewy pounds, Elizabeth had previously sparred with cruiserweight Chris Riley and—according to Trayce Zimmerman—on one occasion, walked into a punch and got flattened. Trayce was horrified! However, ever the fighter, Elizabeth not only got up, but she dared him to do it again, saying, “Bring it on!” Somehow, for me, these thoughts did not inspire Walter Mitty-like visions of grandeur.
“Do you have gloves?”” Riley asked me. He retrieved two pairs of training gloves and a pair of target mitts from a large metal basket. Helping this writer don a pair of training gloves, he picked up training duties where Kerin had left off.
Donning a pair of black leather target mitts, he stood in front of me and said, “Get your right hand at a “45”; put your right elbow over your right knee.” He suggested several other adjustments.
Riley continued, saying, “You’re standing too square with me. Give me more of an angle.” To drive his point home, he said, “See how much of a target I have with you standing in front of me like that? I can hit you like this, this and this.” As he tapped abdomen, torso and sides with his gloved fists, there was a certain firmness and weightiness to them that suggested that he held a great deal of power in reserve and, indeed, special care and restraint was being judiciously exercised. Truly, Chris Riley was a gentleman.
Moving on, he said, “Let’s throw the jab.” Following several jabs, like Elizabeth before him, he insisted on staying on the ball of the right foot when throwing punches.
Questioning this assertion, I cited that in a collegiate boxing class 20 years ago, the instructor had instructed us to keep feet both feet flat when throwing punches and actually chastised students for raising the rear foot when following through on a punch.
Thoughtfully, Riley stopped to demonstrate why this advice was wrong. He showed that when both feet were planted, mobility was hampered and, furthermore, the ability to appropriately absorb a punch without being thrown off balance was diminished; when both feet were planted, something had to give as the force of the blow traveled through the body. Conversely, by keeping the foot arched, it absorbed the force of a blow much like a car’s shock absorber absorbed bumps in the road.
Making deliberate efforts to correct this defect, I threw perhaps a half dozen jabs when he commented, “Don’t follow through so much. Just snap it out and bring it back fast, like this.” He flashed several quick jabs, snapping his fist back quickly once it reached the apogee of its path.
Elaborating, he said, “You generate more power by bringing it back quickly instead of pushing it through the target. Ever snap towels in a locker room?” He explained that it generated more pop when the hand was brought back immediately versus following through with the movement of the towel.
He held up his right mitt as a target and offered immediate feedback as I targeted the white “bulls eye” on the palm of the glove. “Faster, faster!” he exhorted. “Hit with this part of the glove,” he added, pointing to the knuckle region over the index finger. Following a couple of gratifying cracking sounds from hitting the target zone properly, he said, “Good, good! Much better!”
Next, Riley worked on left crosses. After observing a series of left crosses targeting his left glove, he said, “Don’t turn your shoulder so much. It’s too exaggerated. Throw your punch just like this,” he said, deftly rotating his shoulder compactly behind his straight left.
Mimicking his movements resulted in gratifying praise. “Good, that’s better. Much better! Ooh, you’ve got some good power,” he said.
I smiled to myself, thinking, “hmmm, yeah, I guess I do!”
Right hooks were next on the agenda. This was especially challenging, as this writer preferred throwing left hooks exclusively and made a point to say so. Chris showed how throwing a left hook from the southpaw stance left the puncher wide open for counters, versus throwing a quick and compact right hook from that stance might throw someone off. Correcting an exaggerated looping motion, he suggested shortening it up. He also stressed turning the punch over with the forearm held high, thus providing a protective shield of sorts against a counter punch. He demonstrated, instructed me to throw it slowly and, once satisfied, at full speed.
After a brief session of working on right jab-left cross-right hook combinations, it was time to put it all together. Sloughing off the target mitts, he asked my assistance on fastening the Velcro wraps on his brand new training gloves. Talk about a sense of cognitive dissonance! The feeling was not unlike forcing a condemned prisoner load his executioner’s gun with bullets him.
What? No blindfold and cigarette, I thought.
Sensing my apprehension, Trayce Zimmerman interjected, “Take it easy on him, Chris.” Chris said, “No problem. I won’t hit him.”
With that, Riley goaded this writer to give chase, to try and hit him. Extremely deft and mobile, he moved quickly about the ring, dodged many blows, blocked others and—like all-time heavyweight champ, Jack Dempsey before him—occasionally gave up the top of his head, but kept his chin well-protected.
Pursuing him with renewed gusto, my hands flew fast and occasionally found their mark. Anticipation of Riley’s movement led to more effective cutting off the ring. Instinctively trapping him on the ropes, I rained blows his way and began turning shoulders and hips into punches.
All at once, however, I felt very odd. It was as if I was a naïve child wrestling with a tame lion who suddenly realized that, as tame as the beast appeared, it was still a wild animal at heart and could at any moment turn and devour him.
Even as the predatory chase excited synapses from the darker, reptilian part of this writer’s brain, conflicting messages for survival blunted its intensity. A certain rational process prevailed, recalling sage advice offered by a friend: don’t get too frisky, lest a leaden, retaliatory punch follow in return. Thoughts of Riley’s power unleashed inspired an amazing deal of restraint! Somewhat confused, I threw fluff punches for the next minute or so with next to nothing on them. Swallowing my pride, I took comfort in the thought that I wouldn’t be drinking my meals through a straw that evening or anytime soon.
The “sparring session” over, I held the heavy punching bag as he let his hands go for several minutes. Even though he was not going all out, I got a feel for his power as the heavy bag violently jostled in my arms and buffeted my body at point blank range.
After a brief break, Trayce asked him to hit the bag harder. Chris Riley said, “Okay, I’ll hit it a little harder,” adding that he already hit the bag earlier that day. The bag jostled with an intensified furry for a few minutes. The experience was not unlike riding a Wave Runner at high speed over choppy water; one simply held on and enjoyed the exhilarating and bumpy ride. The pummeling went on for several minutes and then subsided. Sweating profusely, Riley suggested that it was time to hit the uppercut bag. That man was in shape!
Suspended from a bar overhead and resting against another supportive bar behind it, the bag required only that someone restrain the bag from above with both arms. Punching from various angles, Riley fired hard uppercuts and hooks for several minutes into the bag, pounding the bag every which way against my arms. Drenched in sweat, Riley finally took a break.
Enervated from the invigorating experience, I said to Riley, “Hey, I can do this all day! Bring it on, man!” This brought a smile and a laugh from Riley as he toweled off. Our session over, we headed off for a brief interview at ringside.
Juan Ayllon: How do you feel about your upcoming fight? Do you know who you will be fighting on Wednesday?
Chris Riley: I feel good. I am prepared and ready to go! And, no, I don’t know who I’ll be fighting yet. But, I look at it this way: it was the same way in the Golden Gloves. You train and prepare for all sorts of styles, you just do your best and then you fight whoever they draw for you.
JA: Speaking of the Golden Gloves, what was your experience?
CR: I won the Golden Gloves Super Heavyweight title in the Novice Division one year and the Open Division the next year. I’ve been doing this for about five years now.
Funny, I started training at a gym where they had white-collar guys—stockbrokers and floor traders—boxing. I tried to hit them, but I couldn’t because they knew how to box, how to jab and move. I boxed with them and I couldn’t lay a glove on them! I knew then that I just had to learn how to box!
JA: What was the highlight of your amateur career?
CR: That was placing third in the nation at the National P.A.L. Championships several years ago. Man, I was rated seventh or eighth in the country at Super Heavyweight!
JA: Who have you been sparring with lately?
CR: Oh, a lot of guys. I’ve been sparring with Lamar “T-Rex” Stephens. That’s Stephens[pronouncing it, Steh-phenz]! He’s big, about 6’ 6” and 265 pounds. I’m only six foot and 200. But you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do!
JA: Do you spar against smaller fighters to work on speed at all?
CR: Yes and no. I don’t spar with professional fighters who are smaller than me. However, as a physical trainer at Crunch Gym, I work with a lot of smaller people in the boxing ring all the time.
JA: What are your short-to-intermediary term goals, say the next year or two?
CR: To keep winning, just keep winning! I just want to keep winning and advancing myself.
JA: What are your plans in the next five years?
CR: To retire. I plan on doing my best, get everything done in that time span and then retire from the ring.
JA: Is this because of health concerns?
CR: Yes, absolutely! Getting hit repeatedly takes its toll over time on the body. You want to keep your mind and your health when you retire from boxing. I hope to become champion, maybe become a trainer and accomplish as much as I can in the sport of boxing and then get out.
Trayce interjected that we had about five more minutes until the gym was closing. With that, we shook hands, gathered our gear and headed for the exit. As we stood at the head of the staircase, Elizabeth asked if anyone was up for dinner. It seemed that everyone had plans. In fact, Trayce—who shared a ride with her—had an urgent date with her couch and the Pay-Per-View Klitschko-Sanders fight being held that evening. It sounded like an entertaining bout. Yet, somehow, that sounded anticlimactic to what I had just experienced only moments before.
Chris Riley (1-0) will be fighting on Wednesday, April 28th from The Ramada Plaza O’Hare in Rosemont, IL. Other featured fighters on the card include Jermaine “Money” Marks, Joseph “The African Assassin” Awinongya, former Amateur World Champion and Russian standout Andrey Tsurkan and 6’6” Lamar Stephens.
For tickets: www.HitzBoxing.com or call 630/295-9800. $35 General Admission, $50 Reserved Ringside and $100 VIP
Replies: 1 Comment made on this article
FYI,
Here are some pics from Elizabeth Kerin’s last fight:
http://www.hitzboxing.com/hitzfanz/HITZ-JAN/IMAGES/kerin2.jpg
http://www.hitzboxing.com/hitzfanz/HITZ-JAN/IMAGES/kerin3.jpg
http://www.hitzboxing.com/hitzfanz/HITZ-JAN/IMAGES/kerin4.jpg
http://www.hitzboxing.com/hitzfanz/HITZ-JAN/IMAGES/kerin1.jpg
Cheers,
Juan C. Ayllon
Posted by Juan C. Ayllon @ 04/26/2004 06:02 PM EST
