BILL CADY Word Count: 149,227 - At My Friend's Place

Bill Cady, The Early Years … by Bill Cady 273
me off. The match arranged because of my smart mouth changed all that from my
perspective.
He told the two in the ring what I‟d said and it seemed they each wanted a piece
of me. They argued a bit and settled on the one I‟d be fighting. It would be a three round
sparring match, but I had no headgear. There were extra gloves to be found, and I had a
mouthpiece from my football days, but no headgear.
I told „em not to worry about it, the silly bastard wasn‟t gonna hit me in the head,
anyways, so it wasn‟t important. That drew some more laughs, but I got into the ring, all
the same. Actually, I was dressed the same way I‟d later be outfitted many times when I
boxed down south as a semipro heavyweight, in my tennis shoes and blue jeans. (We had
no such thing as jogging shoes or Levis at that time).
My “coaching” to date had been my own self-instruction when fighting some
asshole in the street where I didn‟t want to get hurt. I was always wary of letting some
guy close enough to hit me. Yeah, I know what boxing‟s all about, but I never saw any
rule book that said a fighter must get hit. It may be okay for the other guy to hit me, if he
can, but no rule said I had to permit it.
My opponent was a good two and a quarter, while I was at the one-ninety-two
pounds where I stayed for a few years. It was the slimmest I‟d ever be as an adult, but
my diet consisted of something from McDonald‟s every second or third day, and all the
beer I could drink any and every day. I didn‟t eat much when I was younger.
Maybe you‟ve never “enjoyed the experience”, but most people really don‟t want
anyone to hit them, especially on purpose, and extra specially when you get hit as hard as
possible. Try to imagine getting hit repeatedly by a guy weighing well over two-hundred
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