When I was in elementary school, I did a book report on The Contender by Robert Lipsyte.
I chose the book because of it’s cover.
There was an illustration there of a young black man with a towel over his shoulders and tape around his hands.
He was a boxer.
It tells the story of Alfred Brooks, an inner-city kid who drops out of school and works as a sweeper and stocker in a family owned grocery store.
His best friend, James, falls into gang life and Alfred tried to save him before he’s lost to the streets.
James gets arrested for breaking into and stealing from the grocery store where Alfred works.
One night, after James’ arrest, Alfred climbs up the rickety, dimly lit stairs of Donatelli’s Gym.
He meets Mr. Donatelli, a grizzled, old boxing trainer who is much like the beloved Micky in the Rocky movies.
Alfred begins to box and learns that he must become a contender before he can become a champion.
There is a quote from Mr. Donatelli that I always keep close to me.
“You have to start by wanting to be a contender,” he tells Alfred, “The person coming up, the person who knows there's a good chance you’ll never get to the top, the person who's willing to sweat and bleed to get up as high as your legs and your brain and your heart will take you.”
I think about these words each morning I open my eyes to a new day as a teacher and a writer.
They inspire me to want to be a contender.
In that first reading, I realized that I am Alfred and he is me.
We are each other.
That’s an important thing for a ten year old to understand.
I’m thankful I learned it in the Taylor’s Elementary School library, the old Taylor’s Elementary School on Main Street in the building where my grandmas and grandpas, mom and dad, went to school.
It’s a story about friendship, too.
One of the most moving scenes I’ve ever read in literature happens at the end of the story.
Alfred crawls into an old hiding spot where he and James go when times get hard, like when James’ alcoholic, abusive father lashed out at him, like when Alfred’s mom died from cancer.
James is there.
He’s running from the police because he’s broken into the grocery store again, this time through the front window, where he cut himself real bad.
“Alfred felt James’ outstretched arms around his neck. Slowly, he pulled James out of the cave into the biting wind.
‘Easy, man, you be all right.’ He lifted James to his feet and half-carried him through the stunted trees. James moaned.
‘Hang in there, James. Can you walk?’
‘Try.’ He leaned heavily on Alfred. ‘Weak as a baby. Lost all that blood.’
‘Don’t worry about that, James, I got plenty of blood for you.’ Carefully, Alfred guided him over the rocks and bushes and the new snow, toward the lights of the avenue.”
In that first reading I realized that friendship is everything, that carrying your friends, that being carried by your friends, is everything.
I’m thankful I learned that.
All from a library in public school.
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