I had an uncle who took me to the ring in Medellin when I was 15 years old. In school, we had someone who taught us how to bullfight.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
My father was a bullfighter.
My father was military, so I traveled a lot, so I had 13 to 15 first days in new schools. Bullies transcend culture, unfortunately, and I had to deal with them wherever I went. I knew how to defend myself. But I didn't know how to fight.
Just about this time, when in imagination I was so great a warrior, I had good use in real life for more strength, as I was no longer taken to school by the nurse, but instead had myself to protect my brother, two years my junior.
One of my brothers, Eric, who is one year older than me, was actually the first one to start boxing, and being the youngest sibling, I wanted to do what he did, so I pushed my parents to let me join.
I was betting on cockfights in the Filipino workers' camps when I was 11.
I was just such a quiet kid. I found boxing when I was 14 years old. I went down to the gym because my brother, who used to beat me up all the time, introduced me to boxing. I found boxing to be a sport that I felt safe in because I controlled what was in those four squares.
My father taught me how to fight when I was 5.
I was 11 when I started boxing. My brother was fighting before I did, and he got me into it.
When I was 15 years old, I left school and became a professional boxer.
I was bullied by a few people who were much older than me. I went to camp to learn boxing. I was 12, and my coach was 24. I felt like if I could fight him, I could stand up to anyone.