Joey Randazzo
As the May Covid lockdown began, my family found itself in an interesting situation. For the first time since childhood all of us were living under the same roof. I didn’t know at the time, but those were the last months I’d spend with my father, and looking back I realize how incredibly blessed I was to have them.
One of our favorite quarantine activities was working out. Especially the boxing and assisted stretching, but he’d probably leave the latter out. Most of you know pops had real bad shoulders later in life. He struggled to even lift his arms above his head. It really makes you wonder how he got to all those pots and pans hanging in the kitchen. But whether it was taking down the kajillion pound cast iron pan or throwing heavy right hooks, the man had his ways.
The scene was the living room, and the sounds were theme songs from various Rocky movies. I’d lay out a punch sequence and he’d give it to me straight away. Six different punches. One through six, he’d rip right through it focused like a prize fighter. I’ll never forget the first time I received one of his straight right blows. I held my right pad out, probably a foot in front of my face. I call punch two, he winds up and sends his glove hurtling towards me. The punch lands and my pad comes flying back towards my face, almost smashing right into my nose. I stopped, looked at him with a surprised expression, and muttered “Jeeze”. He goes, “What?! Come on, hold em´up!” I couldn’t believe how much power he still had. I mean the man was seventy-six throwing punches like Rocky Marciano. After about three rounds he was good and ready for some strength work followed by our (my) fav, assisted stretching.
Now the assisted stretching was important. Pops was strong but could stand to benefit from a bit more mobility. I’d always remind him of the benefits, but he’d usually respond with something like, “are you fucking kidding me!?, do you know how much this hurts!” And I’d say something along the lines of, “I know pops, but I’m telling you, this is what you need. You’ll be doing splits in no time!” He didn’t exactly appreciate the joking exaggeration, but he’d always agree to it. The static stretching was fine and easy but in order to get the serious knots out you’ve got to do something called myofascial release. It involves applying pressure to the tender areas of tight muscles and can be quite uncomfortable. Especially since pressure needs to be applied for at least thirty seconds for it to work. I’m actually surprised none of our neighbors knocked on the door concerned with the noises coming from our apartment. One might describe them akin to sounds you’d hear in a CIA interrogation room or maybe a priest’s exorcism chamber. The trouble I had was stopping myself from breaking down into hysterical laughter. Most of the time he was lying on his belly so I could hide it, but boy was it tough.
I ended up having to leave for Europe in July. Pops took me to the airport like he always did. When he dropped me off, we stood in front of the almost empty curb to say goodbye. I told him I loved him, and we hugged one last time.