Wayne Bourque stumbles backward, separated from his opponent by 20 inches and a generation gap. The young man pounces – pow! – trapping Mr. Bourque against the ropes.
Mr. Bourque is slower, stiffer and almost two decades older than the former Canadian middleweight champion currently pounding his ribs, but with a couple jabs and a quick right hook, he hints at the speed and power that once earned him the nickname “the Flurry from Fort McMurray.”
“Breathe deep. Deep from the guts,” shouts his coach, Carlos Varela Jr., from the sidelines. “You're not gonna run out of gas.”
Faltering would have been unthinkable 25 years ago, when Mr. Bourque was a chiselled amateur talent gunning for a spot on the Canadian Olympic team. But now Mr. Bourque has only the souvenirs: a brace that hugs his knee. Black boxing gloves that hide arthritic knuckles.
And a milestone looming: Mr. Bourque is turning 50.
Two weeks after this sparring session, he will travel to Kansas City, Mo., to compete in the world's largest amateur boxing tournament for boxers his age. He's been preparing for seven months, and carved 20 pounds off his frame through a strict diet and a punishing regimen that often forces him to bed by 9 p.m., too tired to watch a football game with his 13-year-old son.
Don't get him wrong, he built a good life after retirement: a family, a happy marriage, a successful boxing gym in downtown Toronto frequented by the likes of Russell Crowe and the Toronto Maple Leafs.
But something is missing.
Anyone can have a midlife crisis and buy a hot car, find a new wife, he jokes. Mr. Bourque craves one more fight.
“I've got to get it out of my system,” he says. “Just the one time.”
The ring is luring him, but there's another, more powerful, draw. It's the pride he would feel after stepping out of it, knowing he had earned a championship through months of sweat and sacrifice.
“The release of hitting the bag,” he says. “And getting so tired you want to vomit. It's that feeling … that personal thing inside.” He's fighting to get that back.
The ring beckons
The e-mail arrived from Ringside World Championships last fall. Mr. Bourque had already declined the invitation several years in a row, telling himself he was too busy, too injured, to take part. At 45, he had quit sparring even for fun.
He also had his family to think about. He actively discouraged his son, Brandon, from boxing. His wife, Carol, had cried the last time he boxed, in a charity match 15 years ago.
But this time he couldn't ignore the message.
He'd learned to box at age 13 in Fort McMurray, Alta. One of five children born to Métis parents, Mr. Bourque originally fought to silence racist taunts during his hockey games. Boxing eventually made him the pride of his hometown and exposed him to the world outside of it.
He was junior national champion in 1973 and won the North American Native title three times. He won bronze at nationals in 1983 and had a good shot at representing Canada at the 1984 Olympics. Instead, he tore his right knee in a skiing accident months before the Olympic trials. His career was over. Removed from the rigid routine of training and fighting, Mr. Bourque bounced around southern Alberta, trading six-mile runs for six-packs after his shifts as a plumber ended.
