You wander silently among the bags in your gym. You check that everything is in order, that every piece of equipment is in the right place for the upcoming training session. You glance once more at the notes in your agenda: the exercises to be done, the rest times, the division of tasks among the athletes, the learning objectives you hope to achieve with your trainees. Then the first greeting comes from the door: the boxers arrive, one after the other, with their bags slung over their shoulders, passing you with jovial smiles and heading to the locker rooms. You smile too: it’s the moment for jokes, camaraderie, and the teasing that makes a group and allows those practicing the most individual sport in the world to feel part of a team. But when the clock strikes the appointed hour and the training officially begins, your face transforms into a mask of seriousness and strictness. The guys know that during the execution of the exercises there is no joking around: whether they are there simply to keep fit and relieve stress or they dream of becoming world champions one day makes no difference, at your whistle every inch of their bodies must give their all.
You have eyes everywhere, even in the back of your head: the boy furthest from you thinks you don’t notice that he always takes a few extra seconds of rest or that he lowers the intensity as soon as you turn around, but it’s not true. You notice everything, even if sometimes you pretend not to and from these small tricks you understand who has hopes of having a great career and who will only boast about being a boxer in the pub with friends. Then he arrives, the unexpected new entry. He has never boxed, yet from his look, when he tells you he wants to learn, you realize he is different from the others. When you see him in action, you are even more convinced. In a few minutes, he has already learned to guard, moves on his legs naturally, and his punches to the bag, although he still needs to perfect his technique, produce a sharp sound, like that of a gunshot.
Days pass and your protégé grows visibly. He never misses a session, shows up at the gym in the morning and afternoon, always on time. While his training mates beg you for a break and struggle with their tongues hanging out and heavy arms, he asks for another round, another challenge, another obstacle to overcome. Seeing him become a real boxer, you feel a surge of pride in your heart, but you know you cannot show too much satisfaction because you don’t want the boy to get a big head. So, you remain impassive while he flies like a butterfly and stings like a bee in the ring, measure out compliments carefully, and never fail to scold him when you think he can do even more and climb another rung on the ladder to greatness.
Every fight is both an internal suffering and a celebration of emotions. Outwardly you are cold and rational, shouting your advice promptly and reassuring him between rounds, explaining how to bring home the victory. But inside you almost feel physical pain every time he is hit, resist the urge to mimic the punches you want to see him throw, and stare down the timekeeper while waiting impatiently for the bell to ring and your athlete’s arm to be raised in victory once again. And so, victory after victory, his name starts to spread: interviews pour in, the number of spectators grows, professional promoters start asking questions, and suddenly the old routine is completely disrupted. That simple boy who divided his life between school, home, and the gym no longer exists: now he is omnipresent on social media, giving statements left and right, dressing, and behaving in a way to attract attention and create a persona. Fame has struck your coach-athlete relationship and the worst is yet to come.
At first, you don’t notice his annoyed looks when you scold him, the requests to do an exercise different from the one you propose, the air of indifference he shows when you put him in the ring with a less skilled partner. Part of your subconscious refuses to accept that something has changed: you want to pick up the thread where you left off before the last great victory, climb the steps with him that remain to reach glory, but reality hits you like a speeding train. The boy feels he has arrived, no longer listens to you with the attention and eagerness to learn of the past; on the contrary, he is convinced he knows more than you, that he is already a champion, with no rivals. His lazy attitudes become openly rebellious: he challenges your training method, insists on doing it his way, citing so-and-so who on the internet or in another gym has explained how things should be done. Eventually, you can’t take it anymore and explode: the last straw breaks the camel’s back and you unleash a torrent of words while he yells back and storms out, slamming the door. The fairy tale has ended at its peak and you stand still for a few minutes, staring into space, imagining what could have been and wasn’t.
You will watch all his future fights, perhaps secretly, without admitting it to anyone. And you will continue to feel proud when you see that punch you worked so hard on or that dodge you taught him to master. He won’t become a champion: he lacks humility, an ingredient too important to be without. He will hit the hard truth, realize with dismay that he is not the superstar that accommodating journalists painted him to be, and watch one by one the fake friends who flocked to his bandwagon when he seemed invincible disappear. One day perhaps, looking back, he will understand that he should have stayed by your side, but it will be too late. Meanwhile, you start all over again and swear to yourself: “Never again!” Never again will an athlete shake your soul to that extent, never again will you invest so much time and money in someone, never again will you let yourself be lulled by the dream of having a diamond in the rough. Your gaze in the gym is darker than before, your manners more gruff, your patience more precarious. But then a week, a month, or a year later, another boy looking for a guide is there, hanging on your every word, showing his still unpolished talent, and absorbing your teachings like a sponge. And then you fall into it again, because you are a Coach and no matter how hard you try to resist, you can’t go against your nature: you are destined to live for your boys, dream, suffer, and grow with them.