I was working on an article about a prison boxing team maybe five years ago. For the article, I visited the maximum security prison a good half-dozen times. On one trip, I got to spar with the head of the prison boxing team. Shadell was my size but about forty pounds of weightlifter bulk heavier.
We sparred in the prison gym and it was just me, the prison boxers, and the director of the prison recreation program. No guards.
At one point, Dell and I met in the center of the ring. He jabbed, I slipped it, and threw a quick one-two. When my left missed, I slipped under his counter and spun out of range, rotating on my heel. It's a common boxing move but it was very smooth.
He's one of us! Shouted Edrick, a baby-faced twenty-three year old from Puerto Rico who'd already been inside for six years for murder.
I savored his words on the long drive back to the city. I was one of them.