Grandmaster Chen is still just dad and I am just his daughter.
Lincoln, if you are reading tonight’s blog, I am going to try and adhere to your advice, although I can’t promise anything.
For those of you who don’t know Lincoln, he’s one of our family members at the school an incredible musician and a critic of my rambling pauses of the thoughts, typed.
So I will try to stick to a less fragmented way of sharing these tidbits of my life.
Dad totally picked on me today and took a stiff jab at the fact that I never won him his set of Golden Gloves, obviously my Slivers aren’t enough for him. I had tried for those Golden Gloves, but it just wasn’t written in my stars.
I still wouldn’t trade any of it, cause there is nowhere I’d rather be than where I am now.
Today was another moment of many that I’ve had with dad where he had an opening and just took it, there’s something I adore about these moments. I’m just so happy to have my dad around to pick on me. I’m so happy that he adores me enough to single me out of all his “children” in class.
Steve Asherman was talking about stepping naturally in sparring, which I had to chime in and show my footwork, to which dad doesn’t miss a beat and says “That’s why she didn’t win that championship (the Gloves)”. How’s that for a stiff jab? He then proceeds to say that he had mentioned something about my footwork when I was training and then I never came back to class. Let me state, for the record and in writing, I did not stop going to class because of how he had corrected me in that class, I was training for a fight.
When I’m training for a fight, I’m training 3 times a day and I was balancing a full-time relationship during that period. Balancing a boxing tournament with a full time relationship, is not an easy thing, there’s my life and there’s my partner’s life and it just never seemed to find it’s own balance if I had something that I was committed to. It was a lot of work and eventually burned itself out, but it was such an incredible learning experience with so many insane plot twists, intense highs and lows, it only adds to the texture of my cloth and the depth of my lessons.
So dad was little mean to me, but I adored it and it gives us all such a good laugh.
I’d rather have him say stuff like this than when he used to try to get my attention in class when I was bit spaced out by saying “Tiffany, you should really listen, I don’t know how much longer I’m gonna live.”. Yes, he would say this during class, in-front of everyone.
There are also the incredibly sweet moment where you’ve never seen such happiness from a man when his daughter has hand wraps on. Bag time, is our closest father/daughter time. I don’t think there are many daughters out there who can say that their most intimate moments with their father is when they are gloved up hitting a heavy bag together.
Although, there were those days when I was living at home and fighting amateur regularly where he would sit, pretending to act natural when the door opened as I returned from training. I could feel the buzz off of him, so I ignored him, intentionally. He ignored me ignoring him and like an excited kid, waiting to go to the park he would say, with his ears perked like a puppies
Dad – “So, how was training today? I have new ideas for your punches, why don’t you show me how you punched”
Me- “Training was good, I sparred a lot of rounds and was on the heavy bag before and after sparring. I did some roadwork after, I’m tired now, I don’t wanna punch anymore”
Dad – “That’s great. That’s ok that you’re tired. I’m not asking you to spar or put the gloves on, I just want you to show me how you move and show you my ideas”
Me- “Mom, dad won’t leave me alone”
Mom- “William, please, she’s tired and just came in from training, can you give her a break?”
Dad- “It’s ok, I just want her to show me her punches”
Mom- “Tiffany, your dad just wants to see your punches”
I have absolutely no choice, so I show dad some punches and it’s like a kid in the candy store, or maybe he had 10shots of espresso. The energy he gets from sharing this special time with me was sometimes so painful for me, but looking back at all this, I can’t help but laugh and love every minute of getting picked on now. It’s so precious.
You know he would also just follow me as I would walk away trying to avoid him, showing me punches, talking to me about technique. How was I such an asshole?
I wish you could see the images running through my mind as I write this. I remember being terrified of going home after training sometimes, because all my dad wanted me to do when I got home was talk about my training, to improve upon my training. There’s no greater love I’ve ever experienced than the love of my Father and Mother.
I can’t wait till he picks on me next and I get to tell you guys about it.