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“Keep your fingers curled and your thumb over the top of your fist. Come at me.” He signals for me to attack. I don’t know what I’m doing. All I can think of is to raise my fists in what I hope is a defensive position.
I punch out, but he sidesteps me as if I move in slow motion. He puts a hand on my hip.
“Keep your feet together, just like this.” He shows me what he means and I follow his movements as he rocks me back and forth on the balls of my feet. “Now throw a punch.”
He flicks his eyes up to mine, waiting for my attack, then explains further when I arch a brow.
“Like this.” He moves to stand beside me. “Step into your punch and make sure your hips align with the movement.”
I throw another half-hearted jab, feeling all kinds of self-conscious, certain my movements are far too jerky and awkward.
“I’m hopeless.” I drop my arms and shake out my hands.
“We all start somewhere. I prefer this, actually.”
“What does that mean?”
“You don’t have any bad habits we need to break. You’ll learn proper form from the beginning. Just don’t give up on me, okay?” He stoops down until our eyes are at the same level. “They did not build Rome in a day.”
“Fine. I’ll try.”
“Trying is lying.” The corner of his mouth twitches up in a smirk.
“Isn’t that Yoda’s line?”
“No. He said,Do or do not. There is no try.”
“Then I willdomy best.” I swallow, my voice small and uncertain. “How do I do that?”
Zeb meets my gaze squarely. He lowers his right hand and curls his fingers into a tight fist. “We’ll start with the fist.” He points to his hand. “Keep your fingers curled, and lock your pointer and middle finger down with your thumb.” He waits for me to do what he says, then continues. “What you don’t want to do is put your thumb inside your fist, and don’t let it hang over the top.”
I do what he says and he rewards me with a smile.
“That’s the first step. Congratulations, you successfully made a fist.”
“Yeehaw.” My voice lacks enthusiasm. We’ve been at it for ten minutes and all I’ve successively done is form a fist. Haven’t hit anything. Haven’t been hit. Haven’t ducked, dodged, or kicked.
“What did I say about Rome?” He lifts my chin with his thumb.
“I know.” I take in a deep breath. “What’s next?”
Zeb looks at me. “When you throw a straight punch—you can use either your forward or rear hand…”
“I thought I only had a left and right. Which one’s which?”
“From your stance. If your front leg leads, that’s your forward hand.”
“Okay.”
“You’re going to use your legs for leverage. Drive off the ground and rotate your hip and shoulder forward.” He demonstrates what he means, holding his fists up and ready. “Try it.”
“Like this?”
He repositions my feet, widening my stance.
“Now, this is important and the most common mistake I see beginners make. Your arm alone won’t generate enough power. It’s all about using the momentum of your body: shoulder, trunk, hips, legs, and feet. To direct your punch, turn your shoulder toward your chin and cheek.
He moves into position, demonstrating what he means. “See how far forward my left shoulder is turned?”
