Are you experienced?
THERE are few worlds as easy to infiltrate or as receptive to charlatans as the sport of boxing, and there is arguably no better description of its open-door policy than the one provided by W.C. Heinz in his 1958 novel The Professional.
“How do they all get in?” he wrote. “A kid is a street fighter, and he’s got a pal. The kid goes into the amateurs and his pal goes into the corner with him. The kid wins a dozen fights and wants to turn pro, so he brings his pal along. His pal’s gonna train him, maybe even manage him. They’re friends, and it’s a beautiful thing. The kid has a half-dozen fights and gets flattened. He quits, but does his pal quit? Oh, no. Of course not. He’s a trainer now. He’s up in the gym. He’s got a towel over his shoulder. He’s in for life. Some innocent kid comes walking in, wants to be a fighter. Now he’s got another fighter…
“Amateur fights don’t make fighters. They make trainers and managers. Trainers? They know nothing about training. They’re rubbers. Valets. They’ve got a towel and a lot of gall. Dreadful…
“All you need to be a trainer or a manager is fifteen dollars and a license. This entitles you to ruin a kid’s life, maybe end it.”
Sadly, though The Professional is fiction, it is true: despite the sport’s inherent danger, the doors to boxing are those of the swing variety and can be opened with a simple push and an insincere smile. There are no bouncers, no locks, and no passcodes. All that’s required is some confidence, genuine or otherwise, a connection, tenuous or otherwise, and a way with words. Possess those things and yes, you really can become anything you want: promoter, manager, or even trainer.
