British Boxing Imposter

The Englishman was secretly a Salt Laker. I have no proof of this besides the calligraphized ink up his forearm of a Salt Lake city. I imagine he must have been born a Brit since his accent was authentic and because of his affinity for golf. He certainly boxed like an Englishman, and that is really what matters in this tale. He said things like "go on Kate." He told me this frequently. A lot of times I didn't know where I ought to be going, but thought better not to ask. There was always the good chance it was some place I did not want to go. "Go on" also meant "You're standing too long. Get down and do the f------ burpee." He was English. The f word was merely an accent to a sentence. To me, it meant I better get on that floor, or feel the rath of "bloody 'ell". The f word was also used to inform one that there is no such thing as an f------ girl push-up. He rarely said it when I was in the ring. He must have known I knew where I was going. I knew where I was going. You would not think the ring would be hard to get lost in, but the confusion of being pummeled gets to you. I understand the boundaries. The perimeter. The danger of the ropes. And no Englishman had to tell me to stay away or where to go. In the ring, "go on Kate" is pointless.