My Story of the Fighter

In my photo I was about six or seven years of age outside in the garden learning boxing. My father was teaching to me the boxing. He took me to the centre of the Old Cooper playpark. I said that it looked like a nice place with nice people. I tried to learn how to fight with boxing gloves.

At first, I lifted my hands to my face. He said that I would be a very good light fighter. I saw the bell being rung and I stood through more fighting. It was hard.

My friend said to me to go more. I had more fights and I began to like it. I was pleased.

Then a young boy hit me hard, accident for my left eye. I had a big black and fell to the floor.

My father heard about the accident. I was in hospital for three days. My mother have mood to speak. She said to stop and no more of it. She went to the Eye Clinic in the hospital with me.

I kept fighting. Adult now feel fight still. Why? Deaf people must spend all life fighting.