Acknowledgements:
Omi as always
The BTN8rs - with apologies
The BTN Chatters - for their support
Disclaimers:
"A vague disclaimer is nobody's friend" - Willow, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
I do not own any Numb3rs characters nor do I have any rights to
anything related to the TV show Numb3rs. I plead fair use and claim
only my own writing and characters.
"Pugilism is a sport for heathens."
"Just common street fighters."
"Barbaric!"
Despite everyone in his family being against boxing Alan kept finding himself slowing down as he passed by the local boxing gym on his way home from high school. Queens was pretty blue collar, but the housewives in the area had been scandalized at the idea of half naked men beating each other up within walking distance of their children's schools.
Each day he walked past on the other side of the street, casting glances, trying to see through the open doorway.
One day he finally decided to walk on the wrong side of the street.
He didn't dare stop and look in, but he slowed, listening to the sounds within.
A cacophony of masculinity greeted his ears. He was intrigued.
At dinner his mother talked of getting a petition going to try to make the gym move out of the neighborhood.
When Alan said he didn't think it was so bad he earned a glare for his troubles and decided to say no more.
The next day he paused at the open door and peered in.
"Hey, kid!" A man broke away from a conversation with a fighter and Alan tensed at being noticed. "Come on in!" He gregariously ushered Alan into the gym with a wide welcoming smile. "I'm Joe. Welcome to the gym! What's your name?"
"Uh, I'm Alan," Alan told him, offering a weak smile. "Nice to meet you."
"I take it you're a little curious about our gym here?"
Alan looked a little sheepish. "I guess so."
Joe leaned in and lowered his voice mock conspiratorially. "I bet the old ladies in the neighborhood told you this place was bad news. Full of shifty lowlifes? Criminals?"
Alan looked a little uncomfortable. "I'm sure it's a very nice gym."
Joe clapped him on the back. "Let me show you just how nice. If you don't like it? Then you can go tell the old ladies they're right."
Joe showed him the speed bag and the heavy bag and a line of boxers all jumping rope. He laid out the gloves and the protective headgear the boxers wore sparring in the ring. He even let him throw a few punches for fun as he held the bag for him.
Alan went home with a spring in his step, whistling as he went.
The little old ladies lost their bid to eject the gym.
And by spring Alan had saved up enough money for his first boxing lessons.