Sometimes at night when I can’t sleep, I go into my walk-in closet and sit alone on the floor in the dark. There’s something peaceful to me about it. Life begins in the dark and ends in a similar manner.
“Alone in the dark; that’s what life is.”
I typed that sitting there in my closet one night on my phone with my thumbs. I’m no better than most, and I was feeling especially self-centered at the moment. In my weakness, I see there are very few admirable qualities in me at all, at least when I’m sitting alone there in the dark fretting about my existence.
Things aren’t that bad.
Sometimes there in the darkness, though, I think about a fighter in the ring. He’s surrounded by darkness, too. He’s alone in the ring. He can’t see anything but his opponent in front of him. He stares into the great abyss and does so with courage and conviction.
What the fighter isn’t doing is sitting on the ground feeling sorry for himself. He’s standing upright on his own two legs. His volition carries him toward his goal, whether he has the talent and ability to get the job done or not.
I do not believe life is meaningless. But it sure can seem that way sometimes. No matter how brave a face you might wear during the day, the nighttime has a way of bringing that existential loneliness into the forefront of your mind.
And when it does, it makes sense to me to sit down on the floor in the dark. It makes sense to me to stare out into the abyss of the black night and wonder about things I can’t control. It makes sense to me to grasp hold of my loneliness and pull it in close toward me.
But this is all wrong.
Fighters don’t do that. Sure, they find themselves inside life’s crucible at midnight like the rest of us poor schmucks, but at least they stand up and fight. At least they’re doing something.
I know a kid named Corbin Glasscock who does this, too. Corbin is in the first grade. He loves baseball and lots of other things first graders love, too. He’s a good kid. He’s smart and likeable.
In October, Corbin was diagnosed with Osteosarcoma, a form of bone cancer most commonly found among children. The doctors give him a 50 percent chance of survival. So while his classmates are running, playing, smiling, laughing and living their lives as they should, as if it were still the early morning of a bright, sunny day, six-year-old Corbin heads hours west of his home every week to bravely face the rigors of chemotherapy.
Some of the best fighters in the world recognized one of their own recently. Erik Morales, Erislandy Lara, Juan Diaz, Rocky Juarez, Jermell Charlo, Jermall Charlo, Semajay Thomas, Ryan Karl, Lou Savarese and Ronnie Shields sent their well wishes to Corbin: two boxing gloves the kid can wear while he fights his fight with their signatures on them. It means what you think it means: You’re one of us, kid. We’re in your corner.
But boxing can do so much more, and so we will.
Undefeated junior middleweight Jermell Charlo faces Demetrius Andrade for the WBO junior middleweight title on Saturday, December 13 at the Mandalay Bay Resort and Casino in Las Vegas, Nevada.
Before he does that, though, Charlo is going to beat up a boxing writer for charity. The money will go to Corbin. That boxing writer is me.
Charlo and I will spar toward the end of his training camp for three rounds. We’re doing this to raise awareness for Corbin’s fight and to encourage the boxing community at large to donate funds to help Corbin’s family cover the extremely high costs of his medical treatment.
With only a 50 percent chance of survival, Corbin’s family will need 100 percent of the necessary treatments to give the kid a fighting chance.
The event will take place before Charlo’s Houston-area media day at Plex in early December. The exact date will be announced in the coming weeks, but we can start collecting funds for Corbin right now.
We will record the fight and feature it at Boxing Channel for your enjoyment. All we ask is for you to donate whatever you can spare to the fund.
That brings me back to my dark little closet where I contemplate life’s existential loneliness.
Whenever I interview fighters, there’s always one question I ask: Why do you fight? I mean, there are so many things to do in this world, all of them infinitely easier than boxing. The answer always varies from person to person, but inevitably it almost always boils down to the same basic thing: What else are they supposed to do? They’re fighters.
And fighters fight.
Please help Corbin in his fight by contributing to this GoFundMe page. All money raised will go to the Glasscock family to help cover medical expenses.