I get asked many times for advice and information about boxing, and i’m happy to do that.

To make things easier for everyone though, including me, i’ve made website pages that are crammed full of advice about boxing.

Here are the links -

Basic Boxing Advice

Boxing Training

Boxing Styles & Stances

Boxing Punches

Defensive Boxing

Weight Training For Boxers

Boxing Gyms & Trainers

Boxing Equipment

Psychology Of Boxing

The Diet Of A Boxer

Boxing For Self Defence

Using Boxing Style Training For Fitness

Boxing World Champs

Free Downloads

Non Free Downloads

Funny Boxing Videos

Todd Walling, a mechanical engineering and technology senior, began officially training for boxing in June of this past summer and recently began training in mixed martial arts.

Another profile piece. Another chance to play with the O’Colly’s new White Lightnings.

One of my favourite techniques and a definite must in every fighter’s repertoire, mainly because of the raw power that can be dispensed from it!! Still blinking? I’m talking of the simple Uppercut. Might look simple simple to an untrained eye but when delivered correctly can lead to a devastating result-a knockout and  for good measure a broken jaw as well!

The Uppercut is definitely one of the most powerful punches I have seen and used and a great one to use to slip through guards and deliver a deadly finisher. Add some internal martial arts into the equation and you have an extremely effective and forceful punch.

So the formula for a good uppercut is simple it’s all in the legs, waist and the final touch twisting your forearm to get a drill like action!

• When in Guard, sink with your guard (bend yr knees slightly)
• Rise up with your guard, twisting your waist
• Your arm should then shoot out like as if it’s been whipped out by the force of your entire body rising and twisting
• Make sure the angle of your arm is around 45° outward so that you don’t end up punching your own face and you drive the punch into your opponent
• And finally on impact make sure that your arm has made a drill like motion so that your opponent feels your punch has penetrating through!
• Do all of the above with a jerk so that the punch is delivered quickly, decisively and powerfully
• Do not lean into the punch, rather take a step forward so that you are not imbalanced and your legs give you that extra bit of power for the Uppercut!

It is a difficult punch which requires a lot of co-ordination, so practice slowly at first and then pick up the pace and in the end ‘practice makes perfect’! So practice the punch ,n, number of times (n being a number more than 1000) and you will have added a torrid surprise to your bag of goodies . For any doubts, ask your nearest kickboxing instructor!

Watch how deadly the uppercut can be

watch how an uppercut can backfire, so practice hard and right!

Well if you have ever said to yourself that i want to learn boxing, then you should definitely pay me a visit at ScotBoxer

I’m an ex-boxer who is happy to offer advice to anyone wanting to take up the sport, and my website is also full of information that you should find useful.

Even if you just want to learn certain aspects of the sport to use in self defence, or maybe begin doing boxing style work-outs to make you fitter and leaner than you’ve EVER been before, there’s loads of information there for you too!

I look forward to seeing you at ScotBoxer

Idag var min sista dag på jobbet för sommaren. Kanske hoppar in om det skulle behövas men som det ser ut nu så är jag oförskämt ledig. Dagen har varit jäkligt skum. Det har ömsom spöregnat och ömsom varit solsken. Nu blåser det bara som sjutton.

Fick hem ett paket från uppercut.se, som jag förresten varmt kan rekomendera, idag. Gratis frakt, supersnabb service (beställde igår) och så fick jag ett presentkort på 50 kr. Paketet innehöll nya underkläder från favoriten Calvin Klein.

Så fint. Jag älskar det. Mjukt och skönt. Har samma fast i rosa också och är supernöjd.

Häromdagen när jag och Tomas var inne i stan så fick jag en present. Världens finaste present också.

Helt perfekta gråa byxor. Superenkla men ändå med ett annorlunda snitt. Gillar längden och de gör sig allra bäst med höga klackar. Behöver jag skriva var de kommer från!?  Tack så jättemycket Älskling!

När jag har fått så mycket fina saker så måste jag väl hålla mig själv lite fräsch och snygg också.

Haha…bjuder på den.

Kenpo X – 6:30-7:30am

My glutes were killing me from yesterday’s legs & back workout, so I didn’t put 100% into Kenpo today.  I just sort of went through the motions.  So it wasn’t much of a workout (although I did sweat) but I’m planning to play some Wii later with my kids so maybe that will burn some of the extra calories I neglected this morning.

Tony is really hardcore about the punching.  when he does a hook-uppercut he almost looks angry, like he’s beating someone up.  I wonder about that man’s psychoses.  I think I just need a break from P90X.  Thankfully, tomorrow is break day!  woo-hoo!

Lucian Bute si-a pastrat titlul mondial IBF la categoria supermijlocie, in cadrul meciului din aceasta dimineata disputat la Montreal, Canada. Tehnica de KO a romanului l-a lasat pe columbianul Fulgencio Zuniga in a patra runda, dupa un uppercut la corp, numarat. Ha! S-a uitat cineva?

Lucian Bute a devenit campion mondial in octombrie [19], 2007, in lupta cu Alejandro Berrio. E a treia oara cand campionul isi apara centura cu diamante si reuseste! Bravo!

Så kom den som en uppercut mot hakan. Jag har nu insett att jag inom kort kommer vara borta ett bra tag.  4 dagar kvar.

Inatt har jag lyckats skrapa ihop 2 ynka timmar av sömn, resten har jag legat och tänkt på Thailand, och de 2 timmar jag faktist sov drömde jag om Thailand.

Jag ska prata med min kära mor idag, hon måste fixa mig starka sömntabletter. Utan droger kommer jag aldrig kunna sova dagen innan vi åker, och jag behöver vara pigg på resedagen.

/martin

Jobbade med “Let’s Dance” ikväll (igår). Det är alltid trevligt, men den här gången hade jag även en nära döden-upplevelse. Jag hälsade på George Scott i en paus, det har jag gjort förut. Han är alltid oerhört trevlig och jag tycker att han är häftig, såklart. Jag frågade hur det kändes (inte att vara häftig alltså).
Då svarade han: “Håll käften”.
För en kort sekund såg jag livet passera revy och det hela avslutades med att George drog en uppercut på min haka och sedan blixtrade ett vitt ljus till.
Sedan fortsatte han: “Håll käften, så känns det. Nu har jag visat var skåpet ska stå”, och allt var som vanligt igen.
Måste ytterligare belysa att George är enormt trevlig och ingen som man kan tänka sig göra något liknande. Men man har ju hört om det här.

GET OVER HERE!

Scorpion from Mortal Kombat.

Scorpion was the superior of two ninjas in Midways 1990’s era celebration of brutality and stupedous uppercutting, Mortal Kombat.  A lot of the ideas in these games were pretty compelling, but after the second one, they drank a little too much of their own kool-aid and seemingly went off the deep end with over the top bullshit and characters nobody gave a shit about.
That said, the last couple of these haven’t actually been that bad.  Still too many characters though.

FLAWLESS VICTORY!

I don’t feel so good right now. Physically, I mean. For reasons unknown to me, I ended up waking up in the middle of the night and had to run to the bathroom so I could violently heave up the expensive Italian dinner I had eaten hours before. There is no conceivable reason though, that I should throw up. I believe my body just…hates me. Especially because that was the ONLY thing I ate yesterday. My body should have been praising me! “Good job Jesse! That was an incredibly satisfying (and expensive) meal! Even IF you will now have to live on ramen until your next pay day!”

THAT’S what my body should be saying. However, my body is a nasty little ingrate. I mean, if I feel the need to vomit, I will gladly do so. But usually…there are signs. Like…the flu. Or dehydration. Or…SOMETHING. And of course, usually when you’re sick, and throw up, you feel better after. You’re body says “uggggh, get…virus….out of me…..losing……..strength”

But did I feel better? NO. I did NOT. In fact, it was worse than usual. After the first few heaves, I had to crab walk backwards from the toilet until I ran into the corner, where I sat and coughed and begged and pleaded for “no more! Please…no more…what did I do?!?” in a very “I’m scantily clad and the murderer has cornered me and then the phone rings and the call is coming from INSIDE THE HOUSE and aiyeeeeeeee!” fashion.

Of course, then I tried to go BACK to sleep and y’know what my body said? It said NO. Then I had several episodes where I’d start to be drifting off, the dreams would start to come, I’d have an epiphany…and then be jolted awake by some unknown force. Only to repeat the exact same scene, with the exact same epiphany. It was like fucking Ground Hog Day which was incredibly frustrating.

It also didn’t help that Speedle then elbowed me in the ear. Hard. I believe I violently shoved him to the other side of the bed while almost shouting “GOD I fucking HATE you and your STUPID POINTY ELBOWS!” for this is not the first time he has attacked me in his sleep.

I believe it was somewhere around 6am at this point, and the first alarm is set for 7:30. Foolishly, I attempted to go back to sleep. I was only semi-successful. After the second alarm went off at 8, I got a text message from The Receptionist stating “um, we just got an email about our time cards and being on time so…you might want to try and BE on time today.”

Anyway, that’s all I really have to blog about, but because I feel bad about writing the words “vomit” “heave” and “throw up” so many times, I will offer some more, fun, childhood stories!

Now…when I was little, I was a talker. Talk talk talk. About what? I don’t know! Stuff! I also had a speech impediment for quite some time. This is how my grandma explained it

“You seemed to pick up on words very quickly, and at a very young age. You really did seem to understand what we would say to you, and you tried to talk back…but…you couldn’t, quite. Your mouth and muscle control wasn’t developed enough to form the proper sounds, but you weren’t quite aware of that so you would just babble at us. It wasn’t until you were a little bit older, and your mom started to be able to understand you despite the gibberish that we realized you had actually started to believe that you thought what you were saying was real.”

Then I went to speech therapy! I’m kind of thankful for that, actually, therapy eradicated the southern Ohio twang that most of my family has. Of course, if I spend time with them…it comes back.

During the time of impediment, however, my Grandma took me and my brother on a haunted trail, around Halloween. I actually DO remember this, even though I couldn’t have been more than four years old. I was wearing my Batman pajamas as a costume (there was a cape!) and a witch stamped my hand. My grandma didn’t realize how ‘scary’ the trail would be though, and spent most of the time trying to hide my face in her neck while I tried to look at everything.

In on area, there was a mummy who reached out to people, moaning “heeeeeeelp meeeeeeeee! HEEEEEEEELP MEEEEEEEE!”

Later, when we arrived at home, I ran up to my grandpa and tried to relay the story to the best of my ability. This is what he heard:

“wi wnt awnna dwl and drrr wos aw bummy n he wazza scurd n he copt tring ta se ‘meeeeeeelp meeeeee! MMMMMMEEEEEEEEELP MEEEEE!’”

…clearly something was wrong with me. Per my grandma, another description:

“When you were little, you weren’t satisfied with just saying what normal kids would say. If a man would get up and leave the room, most kids would say ‘Man gone!’ However, you would have to say something along the lines of “That tall slender man in the green jacket quickly left the room.”

Other annoying habits of mine included walking up to near strangers and having conversations like the following:

Little Self: Know what?

Stranger: No, what?

Little Self: Y equals MX plus B

Stranger: um, how old are you kid?

Little Self: FIVE!

Stranger: and…what is B?

Little Self: the Y-intercept

Stranger: huh. Spooky.

I’m not sure if my mother thought I was going to be a prodigy or…whatever, but ever since I could remember, she would buy textbooks from garage sales and I would actually read them. I remember having advanced algebra (high school level), advanced astrophysics (college level), a college biology book, a book on ‘the cycle of life’ which is how my parents and I had the birds-and-the-bees talk, and a book on proper etiquette. I was the fourth grade kid that was reading novels when all the other kids were reading Goosebumps.

But! Despite the random knowledge floating around in my head, that does not necessarily mean that I was smart. Okay, I kind of was a smart kid, but…take the following conversation into account:

Grandma: [driving to brother’s baseball game]

Little Self: la di da

Grandma: hmm, do I want to get on 110?

Little Self: I can count to ten! Onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnineten!

Grandma: hmm, I don’t know if I want to go east or west…

Litle Self: I like Easter! Let’s sing Peter Cottontail!

[we then sing Peter Cottontail]

Grandma: Oh, Jesse…I think I’ve gone the wrong way. I thought this would be a shortcut…

Little Self: My brother gives me uppercuts!

See? Not especially bright, Little-Self.

I’m sure more interesting stories are to come, but…I think I have to like…do my job now, or something.

“Faccio come mi pare” e dà un pugno al prof.  ”Posso uscire ?”. L’insegnante non dà il permesso e lo studente lo manda ko… Il docente : “Mi ha ferito nel profondo”.

(www.lastampa.it)

Pourquoi cette soudaine envie de frapper, ce bonheur de taper sans retenue dans un sac, cette sensation énorme quand les poings frappent, ce plaisir de découvrir un sport où la force et la technique doivent s’allier? Rocky 13, Philippe of Marseille découvrant tout à la fois sa force et ses lacunes. Avec mon coach Franck, je découvre aussi le plaisir des progrès, cette sensation de la hanche qui tourne et emmène mon poing, un air de hip-hop qui résonne dans la salle de gymnase vide, le shadow-boxing face aux glaces, l’envie furieuse de tuer le sac, comme Mike Tyson. Et se sentir aussi tout à la fois vieux et jeune, comme le “Rocky Balboa” qui renaît face au jeune boxeur branché bling-bling et est tout à fait émouvant sur la tombe de sa femme. Blessé et indestructible. Dieu que j’aime la boxe. Et dieu aussi que ma bedaine m’emmerde pour taper encore plus fort, comme Foreman et Ali à Kinsasha.

Avoir l’explosivité de Mike Tyson, la légèreté de Mohamed Ali, danser sa boxe, avoir la puissance de Foreman, l’endurance et l’humanité de Rocky. Revivre en sentant la force dans ses poings, frapper encore et encore du même bras, en faire son levier, son canon. Découvrir un sport avec un bonheur d’enfant et de tueur gentil. Sauter à la corde pour se faire des jambes d’acier. Tourner autour d’un grand sac et en faire son adversaire virevoltant. Boxer contre des ombres, des fantômes et surtout contre soi. Vouloir l’épuisement et renaître d’un coup. Vivre quoi, en direct et sans crochet, avant qu’un uppercut vous cueille.