Crying Won't Make It Clean

Tonight I wonder if somehow the past predicted the future. A past post (04/11/06 The Kid Has Heart & A Killer Right Jab) I did that seems to haunt me. It's playing out in real life, down to nearly every line. It's meaning semi-altered to fit present time and situation. The future film of one boy's life, that had yet to be played out back in April, has hit the theater today. I originally wrote about a little new-found friend of mine named Evan. He was a shy kid in search of a boxing coach and somehow I ended up "showing him the ropes". Back then, I summed up Evan like this..."Physically, everything about him was wrong for the sport. Mentally, he was the perfect fit. Someone with courage and strength to overcome the odds. To fight thru tough times and never give up even when he's backed into a corner."..."Boxing can teach you so much about yourself. Your character. Your heart. It brings out things inside you that you didn't even know existed. Good things. Positive things. Things a boy like Evan could really use." I never realized the depth of those statements, until now.

When I met Evan in my boxing gym and heard his story, I secretly feared how the final scene would end. I was afraid his life movie would be cut short. White lettering would scroll across a black screen displaying the credits - roles people played in his life. I wondered if I would have a part. If my name would scroll by. Would I of made enough impact on him to be a part of his life? A positive influence? Or would I play a role I wouldn't want to be known for? A role I fear. The role of the blind man. The role of a failure.

Evan is clearly a fighter. A kid that has battled heart surgeries all his life could surely stand toe-to-toe with any boxer, but I never dreamt he would have to fight a match like this. It sickens me. Literally. I felt as if I was going to vomit when I heard what happened to this kid. I was speechless. In shock. I never saw it coming. Like being sucker punched. A knockout in every sense of the word. I flashed back recalling the moment I wrote this..."Maybe one day he will grow to be a great fighter. Maybe not. One thing is for sure, he will get to grow-up. The most important fight is the fight Evan has battled since birth - the fight for his life. A fight he is winning and I'm confident he will continue to win. Ropes or no ropes, I'll be cheering from his corner. Evan has found his passion. He is filling that hole in his heart with boxing. When the doctors look at Evan's heart, I wonder if they see it the same way I do. If they see what I see. What shows up on a hospital scan is not a true picture of Evan's heart. Evan's heart is truly seen when he boxes. It shines thru his eyes. Nothing short of brilliant." Evan is growing up alright. How can you not grow-up when your innocence is stolen?

Tonight, there was no passion in his heart. No shimmering in his eyes. He was silent. Motionless. A shadow of himself. The best way I can describe him is that he has died inside. When life hands you lemons, you make lemonade. But I think in this case, life's twist is too sour. I want to fix that. I hope I can, that it's possible. I want to help Evan make lemonade taste like a sweet summer day. Let him be a kid again.

I only share parts of Evan's story in hopes that by doing so, someone out there can help me help him. My main concern...how do you save a life? A child's innocence has been lost. I can't give that back to him anymore than I can give him a new healthy heart. I'm scared that one day I won't be able to escape the ghost of him. Even though I am not the one who committed a crime against his innocence, I'm feeling guilty because I didn't see the signs. I'm afraid that because I am unable to make him clean again that I will suffer for not saving a life. Unknowingly, I played the role of the blind man that failed Evan.

Take all that anger, all that frustration and all the negativity and turn it into a positive. Don't take it out on yourself. Take it out in the ring. Let your hands go. Release it inside the ring and inside of you. There's no shame in crying. But when you rise each morning, you can't cry for yesterday. Crying won't make it clean. Crying is a release, not a cleanser. I swallowed the lump in my throat and told a 10-year-old boy that tonight. Perhaps I should tell myself that as well. I know his shame. I feel it too. Evan was just a foot in front of me where he sat on his hands, head down, listening. I feel as if I sat on my hands too for all these months. And I can't wash my hands of that.