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Dropping their guard

In a youth pastor's converted garage, young members of a boxing club make connections - and it's not always about landing a jab on a chin.

[Times photo: Kevin White]
Whiel others work out in the garage, Cecil Lalas, center, coaches Bobby Van Winkle, left, and Chris Rodeo between rounds of sparring.

By SAUNDRA AMRHEIN

© St. Petersburg Times,
published October 28, 2001


SPRING HILL -- They throw the football and stumble across a manicured yard under a flaming red sky. Some strap tape on their hands and hang out in the driveway.

"Let's go, ladies and gentlemen, let's go," calls Cecil Lalas.

About a dozen young men and women follow Lalas into his two-car garage on Mercedes Street, where they form a circle. On one side hangs a heavy bag; on the other is a speed bag. In between fans, cabinets and card tables -- signature garage furniture -- are inspirational signs, like the one that warns against using four-letter words, such as "can't."

Then, gathered in their sneakers, T-shirts and shiny shorts with names embossed on the lining, they hold hands and pray. They ask for clean minds and strong bodies.

"In Jesus' name, amen," they end.

"C'mon guys, get your hands wrapped," Lalas says.

The young men and women -- ranging from teens to early 20s -- gather on this quiet Spring Hill street two nights a week to spar in the driveway, run around the block, jump rope and work the bags in the garage.

Recently, they added a third night of practice to get ready for their first matches, which took place Saturday at a tournament in Ocala.

Lalas, 45, a certified amateur boxing coach and youth pastor who still bears the cut physique of an Army soldier, resumed his amateur Ambassador Boxing Club in May after taking a few years off to focus on more traditional youth ministry. He had stopped the club in 1995 after four years, during which time he coached young men like Jose Alonzo, who went on to become a professional boxer.

Lalas, a produce clerk at the Publix store at Barclay Avenue and Spring Hill Drive, said that after a few years away from the boxing club, he began feeling restless, eager to make a bigger impact on young lives. As a skinny young man, he was steered into boxing by his brother and father before he could veer into the path of problems on the streets.

So he began spreading the word. And with the help of his two sons, Tony and Adam, the garage door came up and the bags came out.

Though he met some of the young boxers through his church, the club is not about jabs for Jesus. Members do not have to attend church, or even pray. Still, those looking for guidance seem to find their way here. Lalas' goal is to provide a solid role model and a structure through the sport he describes as an art.

Amateur boxing, he says, is not about slugging your opponents or knocking them out, unlike professional boxing. Layered with protective head and body gear, amateur boxers learn to dance, dodge and weave in an intricate game of strategy that awards points for solidly landed blows.

Lalas is quick to point out that amateur boxing has fewer injuries than many other sports and calls for extreme fitness, in mind and body. It also builds self-esteem.

It took awhile for some parents to accept the club, especially parents of the girls. But they have come around, and Lalas now hopes to find sponsors to help build a gym.

Within minutes of practice starting, the street turns black, and the young members work out only to the light thrown from inside the garage. Mosquitoes nip their bare legs, but they keep going.

"I want to serve kids a steady diet of discipline . . . character and honor," Lalas says. "There is an inner passion in every person to feel significant."

Providing structure

Bobby Van Winkle was getting flustered, real fast. As he tried to land punches squarely at the mitts held by coach Lalas, his face turned red, and he criticized himself.

While the other young boxers jumped rope or spinned the speed bag, Lalas took Van Winkle around to the back of the house.

What's wrong? Lalas asked, face to face with Van Winkle and his big blue, expressive eyes. Within minutes, Van Winkle was pouring out stories of his rough childhood, how he didn't get along with his dad. Lalas listened and offered some books that might help.

Van Winkle dropped his head. He cannot read well. He left high school after repeating ninth grade three times.

Lalas wrapped his arm around the 20-year-old and told him not to worry. The group would support him and help him take the GED test and get his high school certificate, he said.

Several practices later, Van Winkle insisted on reading the opening prayer. No one made fun of him as he plodded along.

Van Winkle said he was studying for the GED test and also working at the Wal-Mart Distribution Center, loading trucks. He is more fit than he's ever been, he said.

"I want to show the coach that he's taught me well," Van Winkle said. "I feel like I can talk to everybody. There's nobody putting anyone down."

Van Winkle said he has learned to control his anger since joining the boxing group. The positive feedback he gets during practices makes his face beam.

On a recent night, Van Winkle was sparring with 18-year-old Chris Rodeo as the two prepared for Saturday's tournament.

Lalas was telling the two, outfitted with big red gloves, face guards and mouthpieces, to keep their chins down. When someone moves at you, glide to the side and not backward, he said.

The two skirted around each other in circles in the driveway as Lalas danced around them. Their heads bobbed and their shoulders undulated as they looked for an opening.

Rodeo jabbed and Van Winkle moved backward, losing his balance. The next time Rodeo swung, Van Winkle slid fast to his right.

"There you go, Bobby," Lalas called.

Van Winkle landed a straight jab on Rodeo's face guard.

"There you go. That's what I'm talking about," Lalas yelled. In another set of jabs, the two young men wound up in a tangled embrace and patted each other on the back.

"All right," Lalas said, "you can kiss later."

Not just for boy

Deborah Skipper's father had a simple answer: I don't think so.

When her mother talked to him about the idea of their 14-year-old daughter joining the amateur boxing club, Dad balked.

But the idea, first brought up by Lalas, a youth pastor at Heaven's Gate Christian Fellowship in Weeki Wachee, was for Skipper to get into shape.

"I honestly did not expect her to consider competing," said her mother, Rhonda.

But within a few weeks of attending the practices with her daughter, Mrs. Skipper liked what she saw -- the enthusiasm shown by her daughter and her increased boldness and self-esteem, the protectiveness of coach Lalas and the emphasis on safety equipment, including chest guards for the girls.

"They are extremely careful to make sure the kids are in good shape and have the protection they need to keep them from being harmed," she said. "Even her father has done a complete turnaround."

Bill Kellick, spokesman for USA Boxing, the national governing body for Olympic-style amateur boxing, said female membership has soared in the organization's ranks, from 491 in 1994, the first year girls joined, to 1,620 last year.

Kellick emphasized the difference between amateur boxing and professional boxing. In amateur boxing, knockouts are not encouraged because they carry the same points as a solid jab.

In a 1996 accident report, the National Safety Council listed boxing 26th on its list of sports injuries, with fewer accidents than soccer, wrestling, tennis, volleyball, gymnastics and basketball.

"I think people think brain damage because they've seen professional boxers that have come out of it because they don't wear head gear to absorb a lot of the blows," Kellick said. Also, in amateur boxing, referees will call a match if one opponent receives too many hits to the head, he said.

For Carla Cramasta, 19, who loved to playfully fight with male relatives while growing up, boxing was an adjustment.

"My first time I went to spar, I said, "I can't do this; I can't hit someone else,' " she said.

Now, Cramasta shows up early some nights before practice to talk to Lalas and his wife, Julie, about personal problems she is having, though she told Lalas early on that she didn't want to get involved in religion.

She says she finds the boxing group perfect for her.

"It gets my mind off my problems and gives me personal time," she said.

"It's just the sense of belonging. Everyone accepts you there."

Want to join?

For information about joining the Ambassador Boxing Club, call Cecil Lalas at 688-4999. Registration is $32 a year, plus a monthly fee of $45. Members must be between the ages of 8 and 34.

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