Ultimately I am a small-town kid, born
and raised in Osborn, Missouri, a town that only recently eclipsed the
400 barrier in town population (455 to be exact). Maybe that is why I
was so accomplished as an amateur. I always felt I had to prove myself
every match, being a skinny little white boy from a small country town
and going up against kids from California, New York, Florida,
Cincinnati, Texas, Louisiana and Michigan.
I worked extremely hard and really had a
small chip on my shoulder, wanting to prove to everybody that a small
town kid could make it. Even after I won my first national at just 11
years old, I still didn't feel I had accomplished anything.
In fact, I still had that chip on my shoulder even
after winning nationals two years in a row -- in 1995 and 1996 -- and,
now that I look back, I think that's what kept me so hungry to keep
winning.
I remember my father (who also was my
coach) waking me up at six in the morning to go run the school track. I
know this is going to sound like one of those exaggerated "I walked
five miles to school, in a foot of snow, uphill both ways"
kinds of stories that our parents
always like to tell us, but my story is true and not exaggerated.
We'd go to the track before school when I
was in fifth grade, with snow still on the ground, in single-digit
temperatures. There I'd be, all bundled up in three jackets, sprinting
around that track as some of my teachers were just getting to school.
Every other normal fifth grader in America would be sleeping, all
cuddled up in nice warm blankets. But, no, I was out running in the
freezing cold.
My dad always said "I bet no other
11-year-old is training like this." And "You have to be willing to do
more then the next guy." There was no preaching necessary for me,
though, because I wanted to be out there. I wanted to do that little
extra bit to help me be as successful as I could be.
At that point, I think my dad knew I was
going to be something special. The funny thing is, the average parent
would frown upon such things. Why are you making your 11-year-old get
up and run outside in the cold weather blah, blah, blah… Little did
they know I was the culprit of this all. I wanted more and more.
Sometimes they would have to
force me out of the gym and tear the gloves off of me. Because of all
that hard work, boxing has become a way of life for me, financially and
emotionally. I loved boxing then and I love boxing now.
I've been watching old tapes from my
amateur days in search of this hunger I once had. What happened? Where
did it go? I think I need to put those blinders on, focus, and let my
true passion for the sport come out yet again.
Look out. Success is what happens when
hard work and motivation meet ambition!
