“I’m going to come out fighting like a lion tonight,” says David Diaz. He’s a dark-eyed, square-shouldered kid from the near north-west side, 13 years old, one of 15 young pugilists lacing on the gloves for the Hamlin Park Boxing Club.
LeBron gets the evening going at the microphone with a nifty soprano rendition of “The Star Spangled Banner.” He forgets the words down the stretch, but no matter: it’s a game effort, and the crowd howls with delight. LeBron will redeem himself later with a flawless boxing exhibition.
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The Hamlin Park boxers, attired in their shiny white and dark-purple shorts and T-shirts, share in a long tradition of fine amateur boxing. “These kids are hard workers and excellent fighters,” says Mike “Tank” Ghuneim, 25, a Loyola University premed student who learned to juke and jive with the Hamlin Park boys a decade ago and now helps coach the latest brood three nights a week. “I grew up across the street and I want to see these kids stay out of trouble.”
When Conn is announced the winner, he celebrates with a back flip, then shares an existential moment as the crowd lets loose with ear-piercing whistles. “I got nailed a few times tonight but I adjusted my style enough to win,” he says. “I make adjustments every day. That’s how you get out of the projects. You stay away from drugs and alcohol. You tell yourself you can’t lose. You don’t give in.”
