My Father's Glory Part 6.

By Chris Z.

The author claims all copyrights to this story and no duplication or
publication of this story is allowed, except by the web sites to which it has
been posted, without the consent of the author.

This story is purely a work of fiction and any resemblance to person's living
or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely coincidental.
Moreover, none of the actions of the characters in this story is meant to
condone, approve, or sanction their behavior.

All comments are welcome and if you wish to contact me, please feel free to email me at

I would like to give thanks, to all the fans that have expressed their opinions and whose words, have provided inspiration and encouragement.

"Success is not the key to happiness.  Happiness is the key to success.  If you love what you are doing, you will be successful."

                                                                             -- Albert Schweitzer --

As my father and I made our way into the house, I could sense that something was on his mind.  I gazed at his face and there was an empty look in those warm alluring eyes, his thoughts seemed distant and clouded.  He caught my stare, gave me a charming smile and softly stroked my right cheek, he then playfully grabbed my nose and we walked into the house hand in hand.

As we stood at the entrance, there was an inviting aroma in the air that stirred our hunger.  My mother walked into the living room and asked me to help and set up the table.  I made my way to the dining room and heard my father say,

"Do I have time for a quick shower?.", he asked my mother.

"Yes, ofcourse.  But, please don't take too long, lunch is almost ready.", and she went into the kitchen.

My mother and grandmother, were still discussing as to what they were going to bring for next sunday's Easter lunch.  My mother suggested, Risotto ai Funghi ( Risotto with Mushrooms ) and for dessert, Torta Paradiso ( Paradise Cake), my grandmother also wanted to do make her famous Pastry Crown Filled Cake with Chantilly cream and strawberries.  All this talk of desserts was making my mouth water and I was actually looking forward to Easter Mass, well at least for the food.

As I was setting the plates and cutlery on the dining room table, my mother suggested that we eat on the patio.

"Dante, sweetheart.....I've changed my mind.  Let's eat outside, it's such a nice sunny day.", she handed me a wet towel and told me to scrub the patio table and chairs.

I rolled my eyes, sighed and went outside.  The table and chairs were covered with leaves, dirt and rain water.  I thought that, this was just perfect.........more work to do!.  After scrubbing for five minutes, I went back inside and told them that it was clean.

"Dante, go upstairs and hurry up your father, please.", and she took the food to the patio.

My stomach was grumbling loudly and if I didn't get any food soon, I was going to faint.  I ran upstairs and went into my parents bedroom, the door to the washroom was slightly ajar and I could hear my father humming a tune.  As I walked up to the door and slowly opened it, a wave of hot steam hit me right in the face.  At first, I was going to startle him by yelling, lunch is ready!, but as the steam cleared my view,  I caught a glimpze of my father through the glass door of  the shower and was hypnotized by the sight.

There, under the hot shower, stood the man I worshipped, a perfect example of virility and manhood.  My eyes admiringly roamed over to his thick neck that spread into broad and heavily muscled shoulders, the firm and bulging, hairy pecs and the tiny, hard nipples that punctuated his chest and almost disappeared in the mat of wet dark hair.  I leered at his mighty and strong hairy arms, the flat stomach, the long, strong legs, his hairy thighs and large feet.  My father's physique was certainly massive and stunning, to say the least.

I gazed, as he grabbed the soap and used the current of hot water, to scrub his hairy wash-board stomach and with his right hand he gently rubbed the heavily muscled inner thigh and scrubbed the thick leg.  His strong legs, were hard as granite and stood proud, like marble columns to support the mighty weight, as he stood under the stream of water he resembled the statue of  the Roman God, Neptune.  He slowly lowered his right hand and begun to lather his huge, over-sized hairy orbs and after a few seconds of alternatively cupping and yanking them, his enormous organ quickly became engorged and swelled to a gigantic and colossal size.

The mighty python, hung heavily downwards and I had never seen my father's cazzo, fully hard and if I wasn't mistaken, it was at least 12 inches long and quite thick.  The massive lenght and volume was astonishing, the male organ was etched with large, blood-gorged veins and the incredible lenght of this uncut beauty, demanded nothing more than praise and worship.   His balls seemed even bigger and swung freely back and forth between his strong, hairy thighs.  He then grabbed the incredibly thick cock and slapped it on his stomach, causing a ripple effect, where the mighty rod, throbbed and pulsed wildly in his hand, as it was animated with wild energy and raw power.

The over-sized, fat dickhead, started to poke out of it's foreskin shelter and it reminded me of a deadly torpedo ready to strike and cause devastation.  My father took his right hand and slowly worked the foreskin back, exposing the incredibly thick and bright red cock head, he then added soap to his weapon and would roll the foreskin back, as far as it would go.  The steam was obstructing my view, but I didn't care and as for the hunger that I had felt was gone.  I couldn't even think of a  reason I was up here, my father had me completely under his spell and I was completely fascinated and mesmerized.

I continued to watch as he pulled his foreskin back and forth, back and forth, stroking his cock vigorously, sliding the loose skin up and down over the big head and varying the speed.  I could see, strong blue veins that ran up the entire length of the massive shaft and then I then heard him moan, not as if he was in pain but it was obvious that the moan was caused by a pleasurable sensation.  The heat of the steam, caused his hairy ball sack to hang very low and as he reached down, he grabbed his over-sized balls, which seemed to strain the skin of their manly sac to the point of ripping apart and by the look on his face, he truly enjoyed squeezing and yanking them.

He took one hand and caressed his right niple and then clamped it tightly and continued to pump his well oiled piston, he then    gripped and stretched his lemon sized balls, as he jacked his cock.  The look on his face said it all, his face was flushed and agitated, his body then went rigid and froze.  He then, threw his body forward and as he pumped the giant cock, a bolt of thick, creamy white substance, spurted in huge jets, from the throbbing cockhead, his body then went into spasms, and as he continued milking his cock, he sighed and gave a loud,.......AHH!

He placed his head under the shower, turned the cold water to full blast, and cooled off.  He rested his body against the tiles,  and by the look on his face, my father looked exhausted, flushed but satisfied and the enormous, thick cock, was still twitching and dripping it's precious elixir.

Then all of the sudden, my mother came upstairs and burst through the bedroom door.  At first I jumped and that made me came out of the trance and I heard my mother say,

"Dante!.  Where on earth is your father and what is taking so long?.", and by the look on her face she looked irritated.

I smiled, cleared my throat and yelled to my father,

"Dinner,....I mean Lunch is ready!.", and stood there smiling at my mother..

She stood with one hand on her hip, raised one eyebrow and yelled out.

"Antonio Alessandro!, if you don't come out of that shower in five seconds......!."

I then heard my father, say...."Yeah........Yeah, I'm coming!.", and chuckled.

My father, rushed out of the shower and into the bedroom.  He walked right past me, wearing a towel around his waist and  threw me a curious look and smiled at my mother.  She gave him a stern look and said,

"For crying out loud, Antonio.  I sent Dante to get you, ten minutes ago, the food is getting cold!."

My father gazed at me with his bright hazel eyes, and I felt a sensation, as if he wanted to read my mind.

"Antonio, we're going to start eating without you if you don't hurry up.  I'll see you both, downstairs in the patio.", and she walked out.

My father then walked to his dresser, opened the drawer and pulled out a pair of white briefs, a white t-shirt and his blue Umbro running shorts.  He threw everything on the bed, turned around and smiled at me.  He then took off his towel and as he stood naked in front of me and dried himself off, he said.

 "You know what I told you about privacy, Sport.?", he looked serious and very slowly used the towel to dry off every drop of water from his muscular body.

I heard myself mumble something, that came out ......"Mmmm.....Yes Sir.", I blushed furiously, and said.

" Everyone needs to respect their time alone,.........whether you are in the bathroom or reading a book.",  I softly said and continued,

"The rules of the household, are that if the door is closed, it means a knock is required and that we,......sorry, I should not enter unless given permission.", and I stared at the floor.

My father, then said...."Son, you need to give the same consideration to others, as given to you.  When you grow up and mature, you'll see the need for a little private time and private space.  Always remember to knock before entering, this is only a matter of respecting the other person.", and he smiled.

I managed to get another glimpse of him, as he was putting on his underwear and heard the "Snap" of the waistband and he simply looked sexy in his white briefs, the prominent mound was obvious and left nothing to the imagination.  He then put on his shorts, grabbed the deodorant from his dresser, put some on and grabbed the shirt, he then playfully threw me his towel and told me to hang it over the railing and as I walked into the washroom and hung the towel, I took a quick look in the shower to see if there was any evidence of what had happened earlier, but the water had washed away any trace.

He smiled at me and said, "Ready, Sport?.  The women have probably already start eating without us, so let's go!.",

I nodded yes and he grabbed my hand and we raced downstairs.  As we walked into the patio, my mother and grandmother were indeed already eating and didn't say anything when we arrived.  My mother served us the fish, salad and we sat down to enjoy the meal.   My grandmother was still talking about next sunday's mass service and as I looked around the yard, my mother's price winning roses had started to bloom.  I decided to bring that as a subject of conversation to mellow out the mood.

"Mom, the roses are blooming!.  Look, at all the bees that are collecting the nectar.", I  looked at my father and asked ,

"Dad, how do the bees collect the nectar?.", and took a bite out of my salad.

"Well, Sport.  When a honey bee takes nectar from a flower, she stores it in a "honey sack."  When this honey sack is full, she returns to the hive, deposits the drop of nectar into the honeycomb, and evaporates the water out of the nectar by fanning her wings.", and he took a sip of white wine.

"Really?.", I then looked at my mother and suggested the following.

"Mom, are we going to take any flowers for the mass on sunday?.", I asked.

"That's a great idea, Dante.", my grandmother said.

My mother then took a quick look at her roses and said,

"Well, I'll pick some of the roses for sunday's mass.  I want to leave the best ones for the Flower Festival and hopefully this year, I'll bring the Red Ribbon!."

The San Remo, "Flower Festival" is a big celebration and is made possible by the efforts of thousands of volunteers, including a 100-member board of directors and my mother is one of them.  The San Remo Flower Festival Association is a non-profit civic organization composed of professional businesses and individuals whose mission is to promote San Remo and the entire city culturally, socially and economically by presenting this annual celebration of our community.  The festival has something for everyone, from imaginative landscaped gardens, specialist nurseries with plants for sale, garden seminar speakers, food, music, wine, and more.

Some travel thousands of miles just to experience this month-long civic celebration, which draws many thousands of visitors.
The festival is the culmination of a year's planning and countless hours of work by hundreds of volunteers.  The flower festival is divided into many categories of competition which include roses, dahlias, orchids, cacti, lilies, marigolds, asters, inpatients, daisies, herbs, shrubs, tress, chrysanthemums, hanging plants, fruit plants, as well as design categories.  Instead of a single bloom or plant, the design categories encourage creativity in designing displays with natural and floral ingredients.

My mother and grandmother love roses and ofcourse it can't be just a plain, ordinary rose, these roses have to be award winning, beautiful and fragrant.  The categories for roses, are the most prestigious ones and where the award is the most sought  after and the three main categories are, The Royal Horticultural Society Award for Garden Merit, Health and Beauty in Hybrid Tea and Floribundas, and Fragrance.

Roses are evaluated on the beauty, size, and shape of their blossoms, but are also graded on their vigour, resistance to disease, and cold-hardiness.  My mother and grandmother chose their roses by catagorie, such as flower colour, fragrance, flower form, how foliferous the plant is, the shape and size of the plant, foliage colour, vigor, hardiness, and disease resistance. A rose has to either do pretty well in all catagories, or really shine in one or two, sometimes the total effect lies well beyond the sum of the individual ones, in which case a rose that is fairly middling in all categories can come shining through.

My grandmother told me once, that when you first notice a rose, one is grabbed by the vivid and saturated colours, then as one learns a bit more, subtler colors become more inviting, then fragrance becomes more interesting as does the plant shape and foliage colour.  A rose becomes the most captavating and beautiful as all its components display a kind of harmony or consonance.   I agree with her on that, because I know that for me, I'm moved first and most by bright colors and second is the fragrance that distinguishes roses from most other plants bearing attractive flowers.

The roses that my mother and grandmother grow in our garden are; Alec's Red -crimson colour, Alpine Sunset -apricot colour,Baronne Edmond de Rothschild -cerise colour, Charles de Gaulle -mauve colour , Double Delight - red/white blend,Elizabeth of Glamis -salmon colour, Fragrant Cloud -coral colour, Fragrant Hour-pink/orange blend,Pristine-white colour,Regatta -shell pink colour, Rosemary Harkness -apricot,Velvet Fragrance -red colour, City of London -white colour,Radox Bouquet -pink,Sheila's Perfume -red/yellow blend and Sunsprite -yellow.

My mother is very proud of her prize winning rose garden and in the peak of the blooming season, our backyard gives the most aromatic, pleasant smell of perfume.  My mother's garden, is indeed the envy of the whole neighbourhood and many times, the neighbours come over to spy on the kind of roses that she is growing and also, to ask her for advice as how to grow/care for certain certain roses.

As I finished eating my salad, my mother served my father more wine and said,

"Which reminds me, Tony.  Father Ettore said that he looks forward to see you at mass next sunday." and she added.

"And You are coming, Antonio.", and smiled.

"Yes, yes.....I'm going, relax.  I'll be there, front row and snoring.", and he faked a snore.

I laughed and almost choked on a piece of cucumber, my mother just gave me a look and I continued to eat quietly.

"Oh,...... and that reminds me that I have to take your suit out of the closet and take it to the cleaners.", she added.

My father just rolled his eyes, drank his wine and gave an exaggerated sigh.

When we were all done with the sumptuous lunch, my mother started clearing the table and my grandmother was in the kitchen preparing the coffee.  It was such a nice afternoon, that I asked my father if he could play the guitar for a bit, he's very good at it and has been playing, since he was 15 years old.  He's also teaching me, to play the guitar and at this point, I'm learning the basics.  He smiled and said,

"Anything for you, Sport. Go upstairs and get it please.", and rustled my hair.

I excused myself and went upstairs for the guitar.  My father owned a "George Lowden Guitar", Lowden guitars originated in Northern Ireland and use selected solid tone woods, as well as wood bindings for their guitars and that in itself is not unique among quality instruments but on top and underneath, the soundboard and strut wood is individually split and not sawn.  The guitars are also hand-polished and satin finished.  Lowden's unique design elements translate into beautiful sound and his reputation  is well known and loved by a great variety of musicians, worldwide.  Famous people who play Lowden's include; Peter Finger, Richard Thompson, Eric Clapton, Van Morrison, Mary Chapin Carpenter, Vince Gill, Bono and The Edge, Shawn Colvin, Mark Knopfler, James Taylor, Andy Summers, Bob Dylan, Jan Akkerman, Paul Brady, Elvis Costello, and Suzanne Vega.

When I came out to the patio, my father was drinking a cappuccino.  I handed the guitar to him and he practiced for a bit, he then finished his coffee and chose his favorite folk song called, "If You Could Read My Mind", by Canadian singer/songwriter, Gordon Lightfoot.  This is also one of my favorite folk songs and one of the most covered songs in popular music history, having been recorded by stars like Barbra Streisand, Olivia Newton-John, Duane Steele, Viola Wills and most recently, Stars On 54.  I once asked my father what the song was about and he told me that the song is about the breakup of Mr.Lightfoot's first marriage.

I love the beginning of the song, and it goes like this,.........

If you could read my mind love,
what a tale my thoughts could tell.
Just like an old time movie
about a ghost from a wishing well.
In a castle dark or a fortress strong
with chains upon my feet.

You know that ghost is me
and I will never be set free
as long as I'm a ghost that you can see.

Well, if you haven't heard this song, I strongly suggest that you look for the "original version", sung by Gordon Lightfoot.  My father speaks english quite well, so he delivers the song with feeling and poignancy.  He's deep, masculine voice has the perfect pitch, needed for this tune.

My mother had started to do the dishes but when she heard my father playing the guitar, she left the dishes in the sink and came to hear him play.  I enjoyed these moments, when the entire family would spend time together and take time out to relax and savour the moment.  I got confortable on the chair and savoured the cool breeze in the air, as it mingled with a trace of perfume that came from the roses.  My father took all sorts of requests and we spent a tranquil family time together.

After 2 hours and many songs later, my father needed a rest.  My mother gave him a kiss on the cheek and went to finish with the dishes, my grandmother then went to her room to read and take a nap.   My father then gave me a sly look and asked me, if I was interesting in seeing something.

I asked ......" it.?",he gave me a mischievous smile and told me to follow him.  He left the guitar on the chair and with his finger, he motioned to follow him.  As we walked into the dining room and made our way to the front door, he shouted.

"Love,.... Precious.......... Dante and I are going to the garage for a while, Ciao! ", and we walked out.

My mother had the radio in the kitchen quite loud and while doing the dishes, I don't think she heard anything.  I wondered what was on his mind and when I looked at him, he just kept humming a tune and winked at me.  I thought he was being really cute and secretive, so I went along with the game.

Once we were inside the garage, he went right for his crate and pulled it out.  This was the same crate, that contained his trophies and boxing equipment, he then lifted the trunk and said,

" Mmmm...let's see.  Ah,'s your flashlight.", and he handed it to me and winked.  All I could do was to blush.

He then sat on the floor and told me to do the same thing.  He started to take out his trophies, one by one and in the end there were 16 trophies and 10 championship belts.  He had a proud look on his face and said,

" You see,....... Sport.  These trophies I won when I was in my late teen years and the belts in my early twenties.  I was quite good and could have become a professional boxer, if I would have wanted to, but then I met your mother and..........well,
let's just say that my priorities changed.

"Is that why you stopped boxing, because you got married?.", I asked and gazed at his beautiful eyes.  The glimmer in his eyes was still there, but I could feel that there was something he wasn't telling me.

"Mmmm,..... yes and no.  Before I met your mother, I earned a living by boxing and got paid very well, but once I fell in love, I wanted only the best for my wife and our children.  Besides I knew that I couldn't box forever, so I needed a more secure and safe way of earning a living.

"Do you miss boxing?.", I asked him.  He thought for quite a while before he responded.

"Yes, I do.", and gave a good laugh.  He then stood up and lifted a brown sheet, and underneath there were more boxes labeled with his name.  He started to open them and I was so full of curiosity, that I felt like a kid in a candy store.  I was fascinated by my father's past and wanted to know everything.

As he pulled the sheet, he took a look at my face and I'm sure that he was able to read my thoughts and he smiled.  It was a mutual and silent feeling that we shared, a bond between father and son and he knew that I was indeed proud of him.  He asked me to help him and pull some of the boxes out of the way.

I then came across a photo, that was on a glass frame.  The photo was covered in dust but I immediately, recognized my handsome father in his Everlast boxing shorts and holding up a championship belt.  He looked very proud, very muscular and very manly.  The photo must have been taken when he was in his early twenties and what a sight he was.  His impressive frame was covered with rippling and sweaty muscles and his red satin trunks, hugged him tightly around his waist and strong thighs.  Standing next to my father, was a tall good looking man, that was holding up his arm.  The blond giant, was wearing a white t-shirt that displayed his hairy, muscular and broad chest and blue sweat pants that obscenely revealed a massive basket between those firm legs.  He looked very familiar and then what gave him away was the piercing green eyes and blond mustache.

I showed the photo to my father and said,

"Dad, is this Mr.Foglio?.", and looked at my father curiously.

"Good eye, Sport.  Yes, that is Rocco Foglio, he used to be my boxing coach.", he smiled and continued.

"Rocco and I, go back years.  We met at the Sports Club and he became my boxing coach, when I eventually left boxing, it was Rocco, who offered me a job at the Treatment Plant.", he looked at the photo and smiled.

As we continued to move more boxes, something in the background, caught me eye.  A big Everlast Leather Black Training Bag, was resting against the wall, and it was huge.  It must have been, at least 14x36 and weighed probably 70lbs.  He told me that these Everlast heavy bags, are used in the gyms so that you can workout your punches and practice your blocking techniques and this particular bag, dates back to the 1960's.

In another box, I found some old gauze hand wrapping, a water bottle, his ice bag, a leather jump rope, contoured and polished wood hand grips, which help to condition and strengthen your hand grip and his Red Everlast boxing gloves.
The gloves were well worn and used and as soon as I touched them, I wanted to put them on.  My father smiled and said,

"They're going to be quite big for you, Sport.", and as he chuckled and smiled, he helped me put them on.  He was right, the gloves were "huge", designed for the hands of a Titan and were made with top quality leather, with a velcro wrist attachment for a snug fit.

He then put on his Red Everlast punch mitts, which are used for exercise/training to provide greater support and protection for the hand and wrist.  He told me to give him a punch on his glove.

"Son, stand up straight and look at my mitt, slowly use your glove and with your right hand, hit my left glove.", I did as he said and even though the gloves were much too big for me, I got the idea.  My father then continued and said,

"The punch mitts are used, when you're practicing with a moving target and these will help you to develop hooks, jabs, upper-cuts and kicks.", he said.

I kept "my" gloves on, as I rummaged through the box and found his Everlast headgear.  The headgear looks like a helmet and contains a soft-suede lining, that provides a conforming fit, which reduces shifting during training.   I tried on the helmet and once again, my head was too small, this helmet was clearly created for a Goliath.  It had full padding on all four sides with foam for greater durability and shock absorbency.  The metal buckle chinstrap with suede covering for snug, comfortable fit.

Next in the treasure box, was the mouth guard, my father said that this was very important when you box, because it reduces the risk of concussions from lower jaw impacts, it also promotes better breathing, helps protect both the upper and lower teeth.  Then something caught my eye and I knew that it looked familiar, it was my father's, Everlast Protective Cup.  I grabbed the cup and held it up to his face and asked him,

"Dad, what is this?.", and I stared at his bright hazel eyes.

He smiled and said.....

"That is a protective cup.  It is designed to be worn for competitive sports or anytime your genitals are at risk and trust me Son , it is an essential part of a man's sport equipment.  See,...... the cup tucks the testicles close to the undercarriage to protect them from jarring.", he then pulled me close to him, sat me on his leg and said,

"My advice on protecting the precious family jewels, is that whenever you stray onto a field to play any contact sport, arm yourself with a high quality athletic cup and supporter.  Because, sooner or later, you'll have the dizzying experience of a sudden hit that will leave you groaning out loud and that,'s just a fact of life.", he then kissed my forehead and gave me a pat on my butt.

I then put aside the well worn and treasured cup and grabbed his EverlastBoxing Shoes.  The shoes were black/white in colour and had a masculine scent and showed evidence of the abuse they had taken over the years.  It was hard to believe that they had kept, my father's manly scent, all this time.  Next to his shoes were his Everlast Red Satin Trunks, the shorts felt soft to the touch and I imagined, what my father must have looked like, wearing them in the ring.  He must have been quite a sight and as I looked at his face, there was that familiar look that he gave me, as if he was trying to read my thoughts.

He looked at me and asked,

"You think, that you would like to take up boxing when you get older?.", and his hazel eyes gazed at mine.

I looked at him and said..."Yes, I would like to learn how to box.", and smiled at him

"Well, that will be a hard battle.  To persuade your mother and grandmother, that you want to take up boxing.", and he frowned and continued saying,

"You see, SonBoxing is an explosive sport, and requires a unique combination of speed, power, and stamina.", his eyes were now glowing and his face lit up.  His desire and passion for the sport, ignited his soul and he continued by saying,

"But boxing is a tough sport, Son.  It requires alot of disciple and hard work, and is divided into many exercises that require for you to give all your potential.", and he kissed my forehead.

"For example.  There is plyometrics, which consist of a variety of exercises that enhance your speed, acceleration, and of course power and these exercises consist of bounding, jumping, hopping, and drills.  These strengthen the nervous system, and  teach the body to react quickly and explosively.",

I lay my head on his chest as he continued talking, and I could hear his heart beat getting stronger as he proudly spoke, of the sport he loved.

"Then, there's strength training.  That is when two equally skilled boxers square off with each other in the ring, the stronger man will usually win and in boxing, strength translates into both punching power as well as the ability to "manhandle" your opponent while fighting on the inside.", and continued

"Then there's the traditional running drills.   A boxer's morning roadwork is as old as the sport itself, running is an important aspect to the overall condition of a boxer.  Through running you are able to increase both your aerobic and anaerobic strength and endurance.  Even if I don't box anymore, I still go out for morning runs on the weekends, it's just habit.

 "And then you have proper diet, which will improve your performance by increasing energy, promoting muscle growth, and fostering post-workout recovery.  In other words, Son, you'll be able to train harder and recover faster.

"Boxing is a skill sport.  You have the ability to outwork your opponent inside the ring and as you optimizing your speed and power, it will greatly enhance your performance. Boxing is a skill sport, that first relies on a highly conditioned body and it is also a complicated sport, it did not get its nickname the "Sweet Science" because it was easy.

All this talk, was making me tired.  It was no wonder that, my father had a body to be worshipped, after so many years of rigorous and hard training, he had developed a supreme physique and with the discipline that he had maintained, he was quite an inspiration.  I could see that my father was very serious about everything, that he was saying and that he made you believe how rigorous and intense this sport is.  I looked up at his eyes and smiled, as he continued.

"In boxing, you also train the mind.  To be successful in boxing, you must have confidence in your ability. You have to enter the ring with the intention of knocking your opponent out and must also realize that your opponent enters the ring with the very same intention and this can cause nervousness and fear inside.", I then interrupted him and said,

"Dad, were you ever afraid?.  On the ring, I mean?.", and gave him a serious look.

He looked down at me, smiled and said.

"Sure, everyone......doubts themselves at one time, but you have to "psyche", yourself out." He then rustled my hair and I said,

" do you stop those fears?". and I locked my eyes on his.

"Well, Son.  The answer is through experience and mental training.  Every boxer has at one time in their lives had to stare fear in the eyes. We've all had moments when we were nervous and true champions rise up to the challenge while others succumb and crumble to their nervousness and fear."

"Did you know that boxing is one of the hottest forms of exercise?  A boxing workout can burn up to 900 calories in an hour and also improve your cardiovascular fitness and increases your metabolism. Which means you will burn more calories at rest, increase the body's lean body mass, develop eye-hand-foot co-ordination, improve balance, reduce stress, elevate self-confidence and self-esteem.", He then told me to get up and he was going to show me a couple of moves.

"O.k Son.  Now that you're wrapped and gloved, are you ready to throw a punch,?." and he stood in striking position.

"First, you need to learn how to make a fist and where the striking portion is on your hand.", he then showed me how to make a fist and said,

"Making a fist is easy, just close your hand with your thumb wrapped around the outside of your fingers. The second and third knuckles are the striking points of your hand.", and he then touched my knuckles.

"Never the fourth and fifth, this is the weak side of the hand.  Keep your wrists straight at all times.", My father then stood behind me and guided my arms and said,

"Begin by throwing punches slowly, because missing a punch can cause hyperextension of the elbow, which can be very painful." He then stood in front of me and continued,

"That's it Sport!, now you're ready to rock!", and he smiled and gave a sweet laughter.

As we were sparring, we didn't even realize that my mother was standing by the door.  As we turned around, she was standing there with her arms crossed and had a serious look on her face.   I then heard her say,

"Dante, sweetheart.  You need to practice your reading and writing lessons, please go upstairs and get started.", and smiled.

The first thought that came to my mind, was that my mother had a gift for showing up at the worst times and ruining a good time.  So, I looked at my father, smiled and went on my way.  There was no point in even trying to argue with the woman.

My father gave me a warm smile and nodded to get going.  As I was walking out the door, he shouted.

"Son, the gloves.  Don't you want to leave them here?." and he pointed to the box on the floor.

"No, Dad. I want them in my room.", and as I walked out and looked back, I saw a smile and glimmer in my father's eye.

To be continued!