When someone asks you to go boxing, it’s not the sort of invitation you accept without asking questions. I had two: “Are you going to hit me in the face?” and “Will there be blood?”
The retired United Methodist minister who invited me is congenial, witty and not the sort of man you would picture taking a swing at your face and breaking your nose, but all the same I felt better asking.
As it turns out, nobody in Marvin’s boxing class hits anybody else. They box heavy bags, speed bags and practice with two female trainers — one a three-time world champion boxer.