KISS Keep It Simple Stupid!
KISS! (Keep It Simple, Stupid!)
I admit I have fallen out of the loop on occasion, and I am by no means an historical pundit, ready to spout off brow-raising trivia and obscure footnotes at the slightest provocation, but I can confidently assert that I have been a boxing fan since I was young boy. Fondly I remember walking to the home of Don Huber (who would later become my stepfather) on weekends to watch the likes of Sugar Ray Leonard, Thomas “The Hitman” Hearns, Aaron “The Hawk” Pryor, “Marvelous” Marvin Hagler, Hector “macho” Camacho, Ray “Boom Boom” Mancini, Alexis Arguello, Larry Homes, and innumerable others wage epic wars on plain old simple and free public television. Ah yes, those were the days! Free championship boxing—and primetime to boot! Don had been a champion boxer in the Navy, and he taught me some of the fundamentals—basically, he taught me to respect the jab and the straight right hand. I had a good friend at the time who was also a great boxing enthusiast, and about once a month or so we would battle each other for 15 grueling 3 minute rounds in a ring we roped off in his backyard. We used no cumbersome headgear or padding—just two pairs of 8 ounce gloves, and a lot of desire to be like the champs of the day. These fights were no small ordeals mind you! My friend—or foe, I guess is more appropriate—David was 10 inches taller than I was, and he outweighed me by over 50 lbs! No joke! “David” was a misnomer. “Goliath” would have been a much more appropriate. Nevertheless, I always gave a spirited fight, and on occasion, I would even knock him on his ass for a few seconds. (Giants fall hard, but this particular one was also always quick to rise.) I can’t help but laugh at my stupid self during these days. I thought I was indestructible, and I believed my boxing heroes to be virtual deities. Daily, for hours on end, I would jump rope, run, pound a heavy bag, do sit ups, push ups, chin-ups, shadow box, and make up reflex honing games using golf balls, tennis balls, hoola-hoops, and whatever other cheap toys I could find. It was all for the love of the game! It was all for self MASTERY! Progress was measured in terms of pain and lactic acid build up, and in drops of sweat. Since that time, I have learned a lot about myself and about the world of boxing. One thing I have learned is that boxers are not ONLY human…but they definitely ARE human. They make mistakes, they act in accordance with faulty underlying assumptions, and they fail to ask themselves big questions like “Why in the hell am I doing this?” I say this tongue-in-cheek, for most people, even those who would like to see the sport banished from the face of the planet, agree that a competitive boxer must possess a tenacious work ethic. However, it is also true that many fighters perform ritualistic, energy-sapping gym routines without having the slightest notion why they do so. They muddy up a fundamentally simple sport by attempting to turn it into a form of rocket science. I can already hear the objections! “Boxing is the sweet science!” “Boxing is all about skills!” “Boxing is all about animal training!” “Boxing is blood, sweat, and tears!” “Boxing is art!” “Boxing is life!” Be still damn it! I am not disagreeing with any of you! But GAWD, let me finish, will you! Look, here’s the rub. Boxing is a metaphor for life, and life can be a convoluted bitch. But the reason it can be such a convoluted bitch is becasue we make it that way. Albert Einstein once said something to the effect that (I paraphrase here because I do not remember the exact quote) one should strive to make things as simple as possible, but never any simpler. In science, remember, the best hypothesis is the one that requires the fewest assumptions. In other words, the best hypothesis is the most parsimonious. And that is what I want to get across to aspiring fighters.
But hey, enough of all this complicated scientific talk already! Let us take a look at some of the observations made by Bruce Lee over his remarkable career as a combat artist. Again, I am hearing ranting objections. “Bruce Lee was not a boxer!” “Bruce Lee was all about show and glamour!” “Bruce Lee was a genetic freak!” With all due respect, this is all gibberish. The fact is that it would behoove all boxers to read up on the life and philosophy of Bruce Lee. He was a veritable visionary, and he was as REAL as they come. Bruce Lee, having studied and mastered a variety of martial art forms under the tutelage of many “masters”, became a staunch advocate of reducing the art of fighting down to its simplest form. This was a key concept expressed throughout his classic book, The Tao of Jeet Kune Do (JKD). JKD, as explained by Bruce Lee, was intended to be a “style” of fighting that evolved, a style of fighting that was individualistic, a style of fighting that was effective and fluid. Literally, Jeet Kune Do means “Defense through offense”. As Bruce Lee’s JKD was “evolving”, his respect and admiration for good ol’ Western style boxing grew tremendously. He loved to watch Dempsey and Ali among many other historical greats. Bruce Lee himself had once been a high-school boxing champion. What he really appreciated about boxing was that the participants were supremely conditioned and subjected themselves to actual combat—something which many practitioners of the various martial arts will rarely do. This is something about which I want to be very clear. Bruce Lee was most definitely NOT all about glitz and glam! He was a man who embraced fistic combat for the sake of survival. In many ways, he was a true enigma—a steel hand in a velvet glove as it were. On the one hand, he was amiable, highly cultivated, and intellectually profound. On the other hand, he was savage and ruthless. He was a street fighter, and the way in which he wanted to simplify and integrate the art of fighting was to break down the rules and barriers that he felt were so restrictive within the martial arts. In short, he argued that a true martial art should be natural, flexible, and directed toward practical self-preservation. If the occasion required biting, hair-pulling, or a kick to the groin, then THAT was the most artful approach to settling the dispute. To hell with a triple spin, back-flip, push-up, somersault kick to the chin! Bruce acknowledged that such gymnastic displays were good for ticket sales, but he was definitely not one to believe they were of much use in a real fight scene. To illustrate the point, he said, “If I were to fight you in a real situation, I would sooner punch you in the toes than I would kick you in the head.”. One other point to consider is that Bruce Lee may never even have come to America if he had not gotten himself in trouble in the Orient because of his habit of getting into violent street scuffles.
I hope that I have convinced you that Bruce Lee was a real fighter worthy of icon status. My personal belief is that he would have literally embarrassed, if not seriously injured, any of the top prize fighters who grace the sport of boxing today. But that is speculation that threatens to throw me off of my simple path. I simply want to point out a few things that I believe all fighters should consider. First, a fighter who is able to throw many punches in a round is a formidable opponent. Second, a fighter who uses a stiff jab and a well-timed straight right hand is a formidable opponent. Third, an opponent who comes forward is a formidable opponent. Therefore, fighters, practice these things religiously! I might sound boring and simplistic, but that is precisely the point. The bottom line is that it works. Another thing that works is practicing from both the orthodox and the southpaw positions. This is something that most boxers are reluctant to do, and from my point of view, it is a real shame. There are many benefits derived from being able to fight effectively from both positions. Returning briefly to Bruce Lee, I will note that his philosophy was generally different from that of conventional Western boxers when it came to the appropriate “on guard” position. He believed that the most powerful hand should be the lead hand. His reasoning was based on the facts that the lead hand is the one closest to the target and that it is the one most frequently used. Furthermore, it made sense to him that the fighter’s least powerful hand should be placed in a position where it could unleash optimally. The argument is cogent and compelling. The orthodox Western boxer of course fights from a stance that allows his strongest hand to come from the power position. My position is that a fighter should practice in both positions, because it allows for a more balanced approach to fighting. In addition, with daily practice, the body and mind will adapt to both positions, and the result of this adaptation is a more fluid, more skilled, and more complete fighter. Many trainers will argue that practicing both stances will only serve to hinder the fighter from “mastering” the necessary movements involved in fighting from a single stance. Nonsense. First of all, I am merely suggesting that fighters should feel comfortable with a 1-2 combination and some basic footwork from both positions. Secondly, practicing from both positions can help prevent training injuries due to muscle imbalances and chronic overuse ailments in the muscles, joints, and connective tissues. In short, practicing from both positions allows for sport-specific cross training and variety. Moreover, this method of training can be viewed as learning to “punch from different angles”. Most boxers will obligingly attest to the “inherent” difficulties of fighting a “slick southpaw”. Much of the reason for this difficulty, however, is because they themselves have become so enmeshed in their own orthodox “comfort zones” that they are afraid to make an earnest attempt to fight as a southpaw. They may make an enfeebled attempt, decide that it “feels awkward”, and hastily retreat to safety and convention. To each his own, mind you, but really, I believe most will find that a little practice on a regular basis is a very good time investment. Apparently, many of the 2004 Olympians were in accord with my sentiments, for many of them were southpaws or fighters who could “switch hit”, if you will. Something tells me that these young athletes were able to excel because they recognized that the time invested in “breaking out of the box” reaped worthwhile returns. It just never ceases to amaze me that so many fighters are willing and able to expend such an exorbitant number of calories running mile after mile, doing pushup after pushup, situp after situp, axe swing after axe swing, jumping rope until the remains of the base is no more than a thread, lifting weights until their muscles are a pool of lactic acid, etc. etc.—and yet, these same fighters spend virtually no time or energy training their bodies to throw multiple 1-2 combos from different stances. What gives? A big ol’ training faux pas, that’s what… or for those who don’t appreciate my freaking French, let me call it a training FART! Do these fighters and their trainers actually believe that the human body can not adapt to the rigors of throwing variations of the 1-2 from both an orthodox and a southpaw stance? If so, I highly recommend a little extra padding in the head gear, for the effects of the blows are starting to show! Ah, come on ya’ll—I’m just KIDDING! No need to get surly with me! Seriously though, why in the world would the human body so readily adapt to, say, a rigorous running schedule, and not to a training schedule that implements varied on-guard stances? Why? Why? I ask you! Why? Moreover, how in the world does the fighter expect to use his running prowess in a fighting situation? How? How? I ask you! How? Gad! I’d rather watch two fighters clinch after every punch than hit and sprint away from each other!
Saving the most important point for last, I will say that in order to optimize his training time, the fighter must keep his mind in the ring! I can not stress this enough. A fighter cannot assume that his physical training in the gym, performed under conditions with which he is familiar, is going to translate automatically into a good spotlight ring performance. There are far too many variables involved, and the fact that one might routinely feel strong and fast in the gym, by no means assures that he will feel likewise in the ring. THEREFORE, when the fighter is training in the gym, it is paramount for him to be fully cognizant of the skill or attribute that he is trying to refine. As he runs, he should not concern himself with speed or running economy. Rather, he should concern himself with the mental intensity and the cardiovascular benefits that are required inside the ring. Nobody gives a DAMN about how fast or how efficiently a fighter can run in the ring! If that’s what he’s training for, he belongs anywhere but inside the confines of the fighting arena! REALLY! The same goes for the time spent hitting the heavy bag, or shadow boxing, or whatever. The fighter must SEE the opponent in front of him, he must FEEL his presence—the sweat, the stench, the adrenaline, the WILL to defeat and devour! So as a fighter throws punches in the gym, he must throw them with BAD INTENTIONS! He should not just hit the heavy bag. He must hit through the heavy bag. He should not just throw out a lackadaisical left or right jab and leave it hanging out there awaiting an easy counterpunch. He must SNAP that jab! The jab is a whip—the strike and the retrieval back to the on-guard position should be thought of, and performed as, one simultaneous action. This “simultaneous action” mindset should be used with combination punching as well. A fighter looking to maximize his potential should not be thinking “one….two”. He should be thinking “onetwoonetwoonetwo….”—all one easy floooowing motion! Cobralike! StrikeStrikeStrike! As hall-of-fame trainer, Angelo Dundee likes to spew out—“Speed Baby! Speed! Speed!”
In closing, I will summarize: KEEP IT SIMPLE, STUPID!
1) The primary goal of conditioning is to reap the ability to throw many clean, crisp punches.
2) The fighter should focus on advancing in small steps (6-8 inches).
3) Straight punch combinations to the body and head are simple, natural, and highly effective.
4) The fighter should practice routinely from both the orthodox and southpaw stances.
5) The fighter must VISUALIZE to realize!
A fighter who possesses a good hold on these guidelines, coupled with a strong desire to win, can expect to hold both hands high—in VICTORY!
I admit I have fallen out of the loop on occasion, and I am by no means an historical pundit, ready to spout off brow-raising trivia and obscure footnotes at the slightest provocation, but I can confidently assert that I have been a boxing fan since I was young boy. Fondly I remember walking to the home of Don Huber (who would later become my stepfather) on weekends to watch the likes of Sugar Ray Leonard, Thomas “The Hitman” Hearns, Aaron “The Hawk” Pryor, “Marvelous” Marvin Hagler, Hector “macho” Camacho, Ray “Boom Boom” Mancini, Alexis Arguello, Larry Homes, and innumerable others wage epic wars on plain old simple and free public television. Ah yes, those were the days! Free championship boxing—and primetime to boot! Don had been a champion boxer in the Navy, and he taught me some of the fundamentals—basically, he taught me to respect the jab and the straight right hand. I had a good friend at the time who was also a great boxing enthusiast, and about once a month or so we would battle each other for 15 grueling 3 minute rounds in a ring we roped off in his backyard. We used no cumbersome headgear or padding—just two pairs of 8 ounce gloves, and a lot of desire to be like the champs of the day. These fights were no small ordeals mind you! My friend—or foe, I guess is more appropriate—David was 10 inches taller than I was, and he outweighed me by over 50 lbs! No joke! “David” was a misnomer. “Goliath” would have been a much more appropriate. Nevertheless, I always gave a spirited fight, and on occasion, I would even knock him on his ass for a few seconds. (Giants fall hard, but this particular one was also always quick to rise.) I can’t help but laugh at my stupid self during these days. I thought I was indestructible, and I believed my boxing heroes to be virtual deities. Daily, for hours on end, I would jump rope, run, pound a heavy bag, do sit ups, push ups, chin-ups, shadow box, and make up reflex honing games using golf balls, tennis balls, hoola-hoops, and whatever other cheap toys I could find. It was all for the love of the game! It was all for self MASTERY! Progress was measured in terms of pain and lactic acid build up, and in drops of sweat. Since that time, I have learned a lot about myself and about the world of boxing. One thing I have learned is that boxers are not ONLY human…but they definitely ARE human. They make mistakes, they act in accordance with faulty underlying assumptions, and they fail to ask themselves big questions like “Why in the hell am I doing this?” I say this tongue-in-cheek, for most people, even those who would like to see the sport banished from the face of the planet, agree that a competitive boxer must possess a tenacious work ethic. However, it is also true that many fighters perform ritualistic, energy-sapping gym routines without having the slightest notion why they do so. They muddy up a fundamentally simple sport by attempting to turn it into a form of rocket science. I can already hear the objections! “Boxing is the sweet science!” “Boxing is all about skills!” “Boxing is all about animal training!” “Boxing is blood, sweat, and tears!” “Boxing is art!” “Boxing is life!” Be still damn it! I am not disagreeing with any of you! But GAWD, let me finish, will you! Look, here’s the rub. Boxing is a metaphor for life, and life can be a convoluted bitch. But the reason it can be such a convoluted bitch is becasue we make it that way. Albert Einstein once said something to the effect that (I paraphrase here because I do not remember the exact quote) one should strive to make things as simple as possible, but never any simpler. In science, remember, the best hypothesis is the one that requires the fewest assumptions. In other words, the best hypothesis is the most parsimonious. And that is what I want to get across to aspiring fighters.
But hey, enough of all this complicated scientific talk already! Let us take a look at some of the observations made by Bruce Lee over his remarkable career as a combat artist. Again, I am hearing ranting objections. “Bruce Lee was not a boxer!” “Bruce Lee was all about show and glamour!” “Bruce Lee was a genetic freak!” With all due respect, this is all gibberish. The fact is that it would behoove all boxers to read up on the life and philosophy of Bruce Lee. He was a veritable visionary, and he was as REAL as they come. Bruce Lee, having studied and mastered a variety of martial art forms under the tutelage of many “masters”, became a staunch advocate of reducing the art of fighting down to its simplest form. This was a key concept expressed throughout his classic book, The Tao of Jeet Kune Do (JKD). JKD, as explained by Bruce Lee, was intended to be a “style” of fighting that evolved, a style of fighting that was individualistic, a style of fighting that was effective and fluid. Literally, Jeet Kune Do means “Defense through offense”. As Bruce Lee’s JKD was “evolving”, his respect and admiration for good ol’ Western style boxing grew tremendously. He loved to watch Dempsey and Ali among many other historical greats. Bruce Lee himself had once been a high-school boxing champion. What he really appreciated about boxing was that the participants were supremely conditioned and subjected themselves to actual combat—something which many practitioners of the various martial arts will rarely do. This is something about which I want to be very clear. Bruce Lee was most definitely NOT all about glitz and glam! He was a man who embraced fistic combat for the sake of survival. In many ways, he was a true enigma—a steel hand in a velvet glove as it were. On the one hand, he was amiable, highly cultivated, and intellectually profound. On the other hand, he was savage and ruthless. He was a street fighter, and the way in which he wanted to simplify and integrate the art of fighting was to break down the rules and barriers that he felt were so restrictive within the martial arts. In short, he argued that a true martial art should be natural, flexible, and directed toward practical self-preservation. If the occasion required biting, hair-pulling, or a kick to the groin, then THAT was the most artful approach to settling the dispute. To hell with a triple spin, back-flip, push-up, somersault kick to the chin! Bruce acknowledged that such gymnastic displays were good for ticket sales, but he was definitely not one to believe they were of much use in a real fight scene. To illustrate the point, he said, “If I were to fight you in a real situation, I would sooner punch you in the toes than I would kick you in the head.”. One other point to consider is that Bruce Lee may never even have come to America if he had not gotten himself in trouble in the Orient because of his habit of getting into violent street scuffles.
I hope that I have convinced you that Bruce Lee was a real fighter worthy of icon status. My personal belief is that he would have literally embarrassed, if not seriously injured, any of the top prize fighters who grace the sport of boxing today. But that is speculation that threatens to throw me off of my simple path. I simply want to point out a few things that I believe all fighters should consider. First, a fighter who is able to throw many punches in a round is a formidable opponent. Second, a fighter who uses a stiff jab and a well-timed straight right hand is a formidable opponent. Third, an opponent who comes forward is a formidable opponent. Therefore, fighters, practice these things religiously! I might sound boring and simplistic, but that is precisely the point. The bottom line is that it works. Another thing that works is practicing from both the orthodox and the southpaw positions. This is something that most boxers are reluctant to do, and from my point of view, it is a real shame. There are many benefits derived from being able to fight effectively from both positions. Returning briefly to Bruce Lee, I will note that his philosophy was generally different from that of conventional Western boxers when it came to the appropriate “on guard” position. He believed that the most powerful hand should be the lead hand. His reasoning was based on the facts that the lead hand is the one closest to the target and that it is the one most frequently used. Furthermore, it made sense to him that the fighter’s least powerful hand should be placed in a position where it could unleash optimally. The argument is cogent and compelling. The orthodox Western boxer of course fights from a stance that allows his strongest hand to come from the power position. My position is that a fighter should practice in both positions, because it allows for a more balanced approach to fighting. In addition, with daily practice, the body and mind will adapt to both positions, and the result of this adaptation is a more fluid, more skilled, and more complete fighter. Many trainers will argue that practicing both stances will only serve to hinder the fighter from “mastering” the necessary movements involved in fighting from a single stance. Nonsense. First of all, I am merely suggesting that fighters should feel comfortable with a 1-2 combination and some basic footwork from both positions. Secondly, practicing from both positions can help prevent training injuries due to muscle imbalances and chronic overuse ailments in the muscles, joints, and connective tissues. In short, practicing from both positions allows for sport-specific cross training and variety. Moreover, this method of training can be viewed as learning to “punch from different angles”. Most boxers will obligingly attest to the “inherent” difficulties of fighting a “slick southpaw”. Much of the reason for this difficulty, however, is because they themselves have become so enmeshed in their own orthodox “comfort zones” that they are afraid to make an earnest attempt to fight as a southpaw. They may make an enfeebled attempt, decide that it “feels awkward”, and hastily retreat to safety and convention. To each his own, mind you, but really, I believe most will find that a little practice on a regular basis is a very good time investment. Apparently, many of the 2004 Olympians were in accord with my sentiments, for many of them were southpaws or fighters who could “switch hit”, if you will. Something tells me that these young athletes were able to excel because they recognized that the time invested in “breaking out of the box” reaped worthwhile returns. It just never ceases to amaze me that so many fighters are willing and able to expend such an exorbitant number of calories running mile after mile, doing pushup after pushup, situp after situp, axe swing after axe swing, jumping rope until the remains of the base is no more than a thread, lifting weights until their muscles are a pool of lactic acid, etc. etc.—and yet, these same fighters spend virtually no time or energy training their bodies to throw multiple 1-2 combos from different stances. What gives? A big ol’ training faux pas, that’s what… or for those who don’t appreciate my freaking French, let me call it a training FART! Do these fighters and their trainers actually believe that the human body can not adapt to the rigors of throwing variations of the 1-2 from both an orthodox and a southpaw stance? If so, I highly recommend a little extra padding in the head gear, for the effects of the blows are starting to show! Ah, come on ya’ll—I’m just KIDDING! No need to get surly with me! Seriously though, why in the world would the human body so readily adapt to, say, a rigorous running schedule, and not to a training schedule that implements varied on-guard stances? Why? Why? I ask you! Why? Moreover, how in the world does the fighter expect to use his running prowess in a fighting situation? How? How? I ask you! How? Gad! I’d rather watch two fighters clinch after every punch than hit and sprint away from each other!
Saving the most important point for last, I will say that in order to optimize his training time, the fighter must keep his mind in the ring! I can not stress this enough. A fighter cannot assume that his physical training in the gym, performed under conditions with which he is familiar, is going to translate automatically into a good spotlight ring performance. There are far too many variables involved, and the fact that one might routinely feel strong and fast in the gym, by no means assures that he will feel likewise in the ring. THEREFORE, when the fighter is training in the gym, it is paramount for him to be fully cognizant of the skill or attribute that he is trying to refine. As he runs, he should not concern himself with speed or running economy. Rather, he should concern himself with the mental intensity and the cardiovascular benefits that are required inside the ring. Nobody gives a DAMN about how fast or how efficiently a fighter can run in the ring! If that’s what he’s training for, he belongs anywhere but inside the confines of the fighting arena! REALLY! The same goes for the time spent hitting the heavy bag, or shadow boxing, or whatever. The fighter must SEE the opponent in front of him, he must FEEL his presence—the sweat, the stench, the adrenaline, the WILL to defeat and devour! So as a fighter throws punches in the gym, he must throw them with BAD INTENTIONS! He should not just hit the heavy bag. He must hit through the heavy bag. He should not just throw out a lackadaisical left or right jab and leave it hanging out there awaiting an easy counterpunch. He must SNAP that jab! The jab is a whip—the strike and the retrieval back to the on-guard position should be thought of, and performed as, one simultaneous action. This “simultaneous action” mindset should be used with combination punching as well. A fighter looking to maximize his potential should not be thinking “one….two”. He should be thinking “onetwoonetwoonetwo….”—all one easy floooowing motion! Cobralike! StrikeStrikeStrike! As hall-of-fame trainer, Angelo Dundee likes to spew out—“Speed Baby! Speed! Speed!”
In closing, I will summarize: KEEP IT SIMPLE, STUPID!
1) The primary goal of conditioning is to reap the ability to throw many clean, crisp punches.
2) The fighter should focus on advancing in small steps (6-8 inches).
3) Straight punch combinations to the body and head are simple, natural, and highly effective.
4) The fighter should practice routinely from both the orthodox and southpaw stances.
5) The fighter must VISUALIZE to realize!
A fighter who possesses a good hold on these guidelines, coupled with a strong desire to win, can expect to hold both hands high—in VICTORY!
posted by Todd Reinhard at 3:26 PM
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