I hated the gloves and safety gear—or “protective equipment,” as it was called back then. It limited pure technique. I vividly remember complaining to my first instructor in the U.S. about this equipment. Finally, he got tired of my fussing and said, “Gary, I tell you what. Every time you knock the wind out of someone, land a solid hit, or knock them down while wearing the gear, I’ll put a notch on your glove. And for every five notches, I’ll buy you dinner. But no blood, okay?” By the time I left him, I had 17 notches on that glove. Still, I hated wearing them. For example, I wore
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