He either didn't notice, which is bad, or didn't care, which is worse, because after Ray and Hal had finished their bout Ernie asked to have a turn in the ring. I wished I could say no, but I'd already sort of told him he could and I couldn't go back on my word. The only guy even close to Ernie's size was Chuck, who still had ten pounds and an inch or two on him. But there was no help for it, so the two of them put on the head protectors and oversized practice gloves and got in the ring together. Holding my breath, I tapped the bell.
Ernie demolished him. I mean, completely.
It was the strangest fight I'd ever seen. Ernie didn't seem to be particularly fast, but halfway through each punch there was this weird little jerk of some kind, and suddenly that hand was behind Chuck's guard and was bouncing off his head. At least three out of five of those jabs were landing, which was ridiculous for someone as good as Chuck. And on top of that, Chuck's own punches weren't connecting with anything except air, because that jerk of Ernie's was as good for getting his head back as it was for getting his fist forward.
The whole thing began to get to Chuck in the middle of the second round and he started throwing everything he could find, so I had to stop the fight. But I'd seen enough. I had a real Golden Gloves contender on my hands in Ernie.
It took the other guys awhile to see it, and awhile after that to see what it might mean in prestige for the whole town, but they eventually figured it out and from then on Ernie was one of the gang. At the end of the session Chuck announced that everyone was chipping in to buy Ernie a soda at the drugstore, and they all trooped off together. Me, I went home and startled my wife by telling her we were going out to dinner.
The next few weeks went by quickly, kind of surprising when I looked back at all