This is a chance for boxers to tell their own stories. Simply send flatpussboxing your story in a word document and we will post it, without editing. Limit the story to 700 words. Say what you like. Tell the world how great you are. Give your hopes and dreams. Everything is fair game.

Sorry for the curse words, but I got into the story



Chauncy Welliver 

June 2003. My father just passed away and of course life was low at that moment. My brother Dewey fought days after my father's death and won vs Juan Baldwin on ESPN2. He rose up for my father. It was his moment performing a great bout in honor of his lifetime trainer, my dad.

I was training at the time to fight Billy Zumbrun. Billy was a tough guy & it was the first time I was headed to somebody else's hometown (Bumfuck, Utah) to fight them.

As I was in the gym still living off the high of Dewey winning on ESPN, I couldn't shake the memories of my dad. "How did Dew do this?" I kept asking myself.

So after long thought I decided not to fight. In the gym was Brad Rone. An opponent. My former opponent actually. The opponent for the last time my father would see me fight. I asked Brad if he wanted to make a few bucks and be my replacement. He agreed as his mother had passed away days before as well. 

I was off the hook.

So Billy had beaten Brad before so this should be a routine win. Another days work for Billy.

After round 1, for reasons I don't quite understand, Brad fell into a corner and passed away.

"My fault?" I kept asking myself. It reminded how fragile life can be and how important decisions can be and the aftershock of such decisions even if they seem so miniscule. 

Moe Smith was the promoter at the Couer d Alene Casino and wanted to have a 10 count and have me fight that night as well in honor of my dad. He asked me who I wanted to fight...

Billy Zumbrun of course.

September 2003, coming off the summer of Gatti vs Ward 3, I wanted to wage war. Go to town with the baddest man possible. I mean, he literally just killed a guy so he's gotta be a tough S.O.B. right?

After I enter the ring I didn't realize they would do the honorary "10 count" for my dad as I was in the ring. So now here I am, ready for battle and all I can think about is my dad. I looked across at Billy and realized he's having this 10 count in memory of Bradley Rone.

The fight begins and Billy was a smart, strong guy. He kept his distance and held a lot. Part of me thought he was holding because I had fast hands and he didn't wanna let me get off with my shots. Clinching was how I slowed a guys hands down.

As the fight progressed I realized Billy (probably) held because he was scared he could hurt me as he just experienced one of the things no fighter ever wants to experience, killing another man. We do this for sport, not to create casualties (except Mike Tyson, he wanted casualties).

Billy lost 3 point (2 for holding & 1 for low blows) and I lost 2 points (1 for a headbutt to get him off me and 1 for a low blow to get him off me) and I won a unanimous decision.

So this Gatti-Ward type fight I kept envisioning was a dud. My "memorial" to my dad was horrible. Fuck you Billy Zumbrun.

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