Overusing an old clichΓ© can really tick Coach Khali off β even if itβs somewhat accurate. MTV was one national media outlet that perpetuated a certain Detroit clichΓ© perfectly, the boxing coach says, albeit with good intentions. Producers came to the city to film βIβm a Boxer in Detroitβ for the channelβs True Life series. It was about two kids growing up poor, getting exposed to drugs and gangs, and getting a chance to overcome it all with boxing.
Is boxing really that powerful in Detroit? Its rich history looms large. Joe Louisβ monolithic fist on Jefferson Ave., after all, would come to symbolize not just the sport itself, but a city capable of sustaining the larger βfightβ β whatever that may be at the time.
Still, boxing in Detroit has seen better days. With the death of Emanuel Steward last year, the fate of the famous Kronk gym again fell into question. Many other gyms have closed. Mixed Martial Arts has whittled away at boxingβs fan base.
βWith MMA, you see blood and guts,β Khali says. βPeople getting knocked around. Boxing is like a sweet science. Two guys using skill. Thatβs just not as exciting as MMA.β
Khali, a Detroit native whose given name is Carlo Sweeney, has a profound respect for the βsweet science.β He teaches it every day β free of charge β at his Downtown Boxing Gym, famous in the tight-knit boxing world for its unique youth program and champion fighters. Gyms from New York to Mallorca, Spain, have aspired to re-create its dynamic.
But in Detroit, itβs remained relatively unknown.
Which is to say, donβt make the mistake of thinking that Khali is in the boxing business. Heβs not getting rich. Heβs not grooming professional athletes. At one point, he couldnβt even keep the lights on at the gym on a desolate part of Saint Aubin Street on Detroitβs east side. Here, Khali says, boxing is just the βhook.β It can bring a kid to the table. But it canβt save the kid if he doesnβt know he has choices.
βWe need to be a good example of a way out,β says Khali, who grew up in a now-abandoned east-side neighborhood. He thought heβd become a βgangster.β At one time, he was. He doesnβt remember going to high school because he was always getting kicked out β a βpipeline to prison,β Khali recalls of the experience. The last thing misguided kids need, Khali says, is an adult whoβd rather not deal with their problems.
βIβm cool with these kids learning how to box,β Khali says. βBoxing is a good thing. But education, positive role models, and having a safe place to go where youβre not scared that someoneβs gonna sell you drugs is way more important. You know why kids join gangs? Because theyβve got reading problems. Theyβd rather look cool than stupid.β
On a cold January afternoon, Khali sits in the gymβs study room. The rest of the building (Khali thinks it used to be a car wash) is dark and dingy. This small space with a few computers, however, is almost blindingly bright in its fluorescent haze. Portraits of the gymβs 12-member competitive team decorate a bright orange wall, an homage to the hard work that sent one boxer, Anthony Flagg, 18, currently the No. 2-ranked amateur boxer in his weight and class in the world, to the 2012 Olympic tryouts. Another boxer, Cortez Todd, 15, is ranked No. 1 in his weight and class.
In this respect, Flagg and Cortez arenβt representative of most of the other 65 students who go to the gym every day to train. Those students will never be good enough to win an amateur fight. Theyβll certainly never go pro. All of them, including Flagg, are dealing with the issues that continue to define Detroitβs most dangerous areas.
βMy best friend is a drug dealer,β Flagg says.
But where most gyms would have turned these kids away, itβs been Downtown Boxing Gymβs philosophy to embrace them. The program includes not only serious training for everyone, but mandatory academics and old-fashioned attitude adjustments. Itβs an approach thatβs led to a 100 percent high-school graduation rate since the gym opened seven years ago. City-wide, the rate is about 32 percent.
βSome 16-year-old can come in here thinkinβ heβs real tough. He be thinkinβ heβs the man. Well, Iβll put him in the ring and show him heβs not,β says Kevin White, a trainer at the gym. βEveryone here, theyβre gonna meet their match one day, so we gotta deal with those attitudes. Weβll put you in the ring to see who you really are. At the same time, weβll get up in your head and teach you how to be a grown-up.β
That includes breaking down the gang culture, which has held an equal aura of power in Detroit. βThe (gang) era is gone,β Khali says. βItβs all make-believe. Itβs all crap. Weβre breaking the cycle.β
Downtown Boxing Gym is just now starting to feel the results of that effort. Word is spreading that this isnβt just about boxing, and thereβs a waiting list of more than 60 kids. For years, Khali operated without a formal financial plan and struggled to stay afloat. Then, in 2010, the gymβs development director, Jessica Hauser, helped turn it into a nonprofit organization when she realized it might not survive.
At the time, Khali was paying for everything out of his own pocket. He reluctantly started to ask for contributions of $30 a month. Most families didnβt have the funds. Many didnβt even have the gas money to get their kids there, either, so Khali would diligently pick them up every afternoon after school.
Hauser, who formerly worked in Birminghamβs after-school programs, saw how Khali interacted with the kids. βHe had their full trust,β she says. βI said, βOh, my goodness, they need a fighting chance.βββ
With its nonprofit status comes a bit more legitimacy, and theyβre hoping to move into Eastern Market so the gym can accommodate more kids. Their first fundraising dinner last fall netted enough money to keep the lights on, and Hauser is helping connect students who want to go to college with mentors at local universities, taking academic opportunities to a higher level.
The authenticity of Downtown Boxing Gymβs mission, however, remains. As much as Khali winces at his past life, he knows itβs also a great equalizer that makes kids believe he can help. People in city courts have been known to send troubled kids to him. βKids immediately take to what I say,β he says. βThey know that I know what theyβve been through.β
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