Boxing is Not Just Fisticuffs

A regular training session was in progress. Two future stars were eagerly throwing punches at each other and then we heard the coach: "C'mon, Sashko, your partner is just a rookie and you work him over like a regular adversary. Remember the first time you came and I let you out in the ring? We treated you with consideration..." What surprised us most were the kids' eyes. Serious, understanding, without a hint of aggressiveness.

"I live nearby, so one day I just dropped in," says 10-year-old Dmytro Natalushko from School No. 127. "I wanted to learn to defend myself, for lately they'd been beating up on me."

"We'll make champs one day," we were told confidently by Volodymyr and Yevhen Shevchenko, 10- and 12-year-old brothers. They have been with the club for half a year and learned much.

And then we talked with Kozak Vice President Serhiy Stashchenko.

The Day: You are doing an excellent job, but isn't the whole thing a bit too late? First they closed down children's sports schools and let the kids out in the street, now they are trying to get them back inside.

S. S.: I know what you mean. It's true that the system of physical education for young talents, tested and adjusted over decades, fell apart together with the USSR. New trends appeared instead that were anything but welcome. Now the kids' heroes are all kinds of Supermen, while drugs and prostitution are taken as a matter of course. On the other hand, we would never have started our club if we accepted all this. We decided to set up Kozak six years ago. It was not built in an empty place. There was a boxing group at the local radio factory. No one remembers when it was founded. But then the factory closed.

The Day: And then some good guys came and produced bulging wallets and said we'll take care of the kids, get them all out of trouble and back in shape.

S. S.: Why the sarcasm? In fact, a lot of things can be done without spending too much if one uses one's head, and especially if two or more heads are put together. We had the premises and some equipment. All it took was dedication and understanding. Before long kids started coming asking to join the club. Seriously, we got in touch with people who still remembered their first time in the ring. We talked it over and decided that each would contribute as best he could. And there were businessmen, Volodymyr Puzy, Yuri Tichman, Oleksandr Shybryk, and others. The hat was passed and we came up with the sum we needed. And the whole thing was organized by the club's manager, Oleksandr Petiushenko.

We have ten groups attended by some 150 boys. They are divided into four divisions: preparatory, training, intermediary, and top class.

The Day: The name of your club. What is there between a Cossack and boxing? We know that the Cossacks liked to dance the hopak and turned that into a kind of contest. But I don't think anyone at the Zaporizhzhian Sich practiced punches with gloves.

S. S.: So what name would you suggest? Something Oriental or highly sophisticated? We wanted the club to have a name that would be Ukrainian and familiar to one and all. There are plenty of bars, shops, and offices with foreign names on Khreshchatyk. Besides, the kids like it.

The Day: Some of your little Cossacks must have made their names at competitions.

S. S.: They surely have, even in Europe. Oleh Stukalov would up in the 1995 junior championship finals. Volodymyr Khodakivsky, Maksym Holovyzin, and Vasyl Tabarov are all world junior championship prize winners.

The Day: You sound very enthusiastic. Which is more important to you: education or competition results?

S. S.: The main idea is get as many kids as possible off the streets, divert them from less wholesome pursuits. Among those training here are boys from Darnytsia, Dniprovsky, and Kharkivsky city districts. I mean our working-class districts, high risk areas here and elsewhere in the world. People living there are worse off materially and their habits are less civilized. But it is also true that such families supply most future champions. The main thing is to watch every bout, keeping it athletic, without getting personal and turning into just another fist-fight.

The Day: Paid services are in these days. Is the attendance free at your club?

S. S.: Of course it is. The are many children who cannot afford to train where they like. I mean problem or low-paid families. Now they have Kozak. There is another important thing: kids always need a leader, someone they can respect and look up to, someone they can confide in. And they have precisely such a man in the club: Oleksandr Petiushenko, our manager. It is largely thanks to him that all of us, his former pupils now busy doing different things never forget about boxing. Although most of us never won medals our love for the sport has remained.

The Day: We happen to know that you have a special attitude toward sports medals. What is it?

S. S.: At one time I won about a dozen or so city junior championships and every time my only trophy was a diploma. And I craved a medal. Just a single one, so I could hold and know it was mine, throw the ribbon round my neck and feel it on my chest, watching my friends' eyes widen with appreciation. And all I had were sheets of paper. Just paper that you can tear by accident and which fades with time. So we will give our winners only medals, special boxing ones. I think this is good incentive.

The Day: Would you like your children to follow in your footsteps?

S. S.: I have two daughters. Twins. I know that female boxing is cultivated in many countries (Ukraine included), but my wife and I are resolutely opposed to the idea. Just picture a girl with a bloody nose and a shiner! You may have noticed that we have no girls training at the club. I think that the most important thing for a girl is to be kind-hearted and decent, rather than a champion.

We left the club and met a group of boys, each wearing a small knapsack. Friendly cheerful faces anticipating another session in a brightly lit ring.