Eric the Boxer

Eric the Boxer... (Worth Reading) Let’s start Eric’s story in his teens. In high school he was an ordinary student who showed little interest in his lessons or any particular subject. Only one thing excited him: boxing. He tried hard to persuade his parents...

...to let him take it up seriously. But his father, Albert, an engineer of German descent, refused firmly. Eric had to study, he said; boxing would get him nowhere. There was a boxing club on Eric’s way to school. To keep his family from finding out, on the way home from school he would...

...run so he could spend a few minutes watching boxing at the club before going home. Eventually the coach noticed that Eric kept coming, even if only for a few minutes. He approached him and asked what was going on. “Starting tomorrow, come train instead of watching,” he said. “I’ll lend you clothes and gloves for a while.”

It became Eric’s daily routine, and he made remarkable progress. His coach spoke to the school and, eventually, to Eric’s family. He got permission for Eric to train for a time, on the condition that he not fall behind in his studies at all.

Two years passed. After graduating from high school and winning his father over, Eric continued boxing professionally and reached the national competitions. His trained body and distinctive technique gave him an edge, and he kept advancing with a high rate of success. Until, at one of those competitions...

...in the final minutes, when he was almost certain to win, Eric lowered his head to defend himself. His opponent struck him in the back of the head. Eric fell to the canvas. Usually he sprang right back up and kept fighting. This time he didn’t move.

Sadly, the severe injury to his neck and spinal cord left Eric completely paralyzed from the waist down. After three months in the hospital, many attempts and tests, and consultations with renowned doctors and neurologists, the verdict was paralysis for life. Not only had Eric’s one great passion gone dark...

...his whole life seemed destroyed. His mental health steadily worsened. He cut off almost all his friends and withdrew. Only his mother and his girlfriend, Emily, were allowed into his room. Emily had been his friend since their school days and was perhaps his only companion.

Many people, including Eric’s mother, thought Emily would leave him. Eric himself told her more than once to go and leave him alone. But Emily had an extraordinary kindness and hope about her. Every day she came to see him with a smile and helped care for him.

Why wasn’t Eric’s father allowed into the room? He kept reproaching Eric: “I told you from the start boxing was no good for you. Boxing ruined your life.” His lectures only made Eric feel worse. In fact, the last time father and son had spoken...

...was on Eric’s final day in the hospital. Without his knowledge, Emily had been talking to a psychologist who was a friend of his mother’s, seeking advice on how to lift his spirits. One day she brought him a CD, the equivalent of a modern hard drive, with a collection of boxing matches.

Eric was angry at first. “Why do you want to hurt me?” he asked. Emily answered calmly, “Didn’t you always say you loved boxing, even more than you loved me? Just because you can’t box yourself doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy watching it. Come on, let’s watch together.”

As he watched the matches, Eric’s fighting spirit gradually stirred. For the first time in a long while, he smiled. A few days later Emily even made a bet with him over a match. She had already seen it but pretended she hadn’t, and Eric won the bet. It went on like this, and Eric...

...regained an astonishing amount of his old excitement and enthusiasm. One day, while they were watching a championship boxing match in America, Eric suddenly lunged a little as if to punch the opponent on the screen. He fell out of his wheelchair. Emily helped him back up, but...

...Eric had noticed something. How had he managed to lunge when he was paralyzed from the waist down and even the movement of his arms was limited? He kept it from everyone, asking Emily not to say anything either, because he thought he might have imagined it. When he was alone, though, he began practicing movement.

He found occupational therapy videos online and tried the exercises. After a few months they seemed to have done no good, and he lost hope again. Emily noticed the change in him and made him tell her what had happened. Delighted, she said, “My uncle is an occupational therapist,” and persuaded Eric to see him.

Emily’s uncle examined Eric, ran tests, and studied his medical records. He told him that Eric’s nerves had most likely been in shock and that there were signs of recovery, but he would need occupational therapy. Eric said he’d been watching therapy videos for months, but...

...they hadn’t helped. “You knew how to walk and jump before,” the doctor told him, “but after more than two years in this condition, you’ve forgotten those movements and need to learn them again. No child ever learned to walk by watching. It takes practice, even for someone who once walked for years.”

The exercises began in earnest, starting with standing, keeping his balance, and strengthening his muscles and knees. Feeling slowly began to return to the soles of Eric’s feet. At last, after several months, he stood unaided for a full minute. This was only the beginning of his journey back.

The doctor said something that stayed with him. “Your mind believed, with the certainty of a five-year-old child, that you would never walk again, almost as if you had never walked at all. First you must clear that darkness from your mind. Then remind it that once you walked, were free, and ran.”

Once Eric could stand, hope in his mind had become belief. He had the strength to fight again. He knew he would walk freely one day, and perhaps one day stand proudly on a championship podium once more.

My compatriot, my dear one, my friend, a part of my own flesh: The people of Iran once walked freely. They strolled. They ran. But the calamity of 1979 dealt a terrible blow to Iran’s spine and paralyzed generations. We forgot how to walk freely. Between the Islamic Republic’s repression and the reproaches of those who brought about 1979—telling us to forget freedom, that walking was not for us, that this paralysis was ours forever—we sank deeper and deeper into darkness. But the uprisings of 2009, 2017–18, 2019 and 2022 taught us that it was possible. We remembered that we had once walked. We understood that we could walk again. But... We must remember: we have to try, and we have to practice. No one reaches freedom by watching. We have moved from hope to belief. But watching alone will get us nowhere; we must act. Only a few steps remain before we can walk freely, without fear or interference. Together, we will prevail. Long live Iran. #LongLiveTheShah #MIGA