Keith Gross’ hands ache.
Gross has just finished another sparring session at Club One Fitness, some 50 miles away from his home in Prince Frederick, leaving a melted glacier of sweat that drenches through his shirt as evidence.
His 30-year old hands took the brunt of the training, forced to absorb hundreds of punches he’s thrown in the past few hours.
Besides the soreness, Gross has plenty else to think about as he prepares to drive home: a family of four that awaits his arrival, tomorrow’s early commute to work and of course, what he’ll eat for dinner.
Above all else, though, one last thought cuts through Gross’ mind before he steps outside the gym’s glass doors.
His next professional boxing match is fast approaching.
The comeback
Gross can blame television for bringing him to this point.
A natural athlete—his basketball skills as a point guard were impressive enough to garner consideration by overseas clubs—Gross became interested in boxing through an assist by his cousin.
Despite being a 21-year-old beginner facing much more experienced opponents, Gross’ natural acumen for the sweet science quickly escalated him up the amateur ranks.
From 1999 until 2003, Gross developed to the point where he was taking on some of the best amateurs in the open class of his middleweight division.
But after several controversial losses by decision and the dissolve of his primary training team, Gross grew weary of boxing. Family intervened—with three growing sons, his availability as a supportive father became precedent.
By age 28 Gross had enrolled in culinary school at the Art Institute of Washington, and any boxing aspirations seemed long cast aside.
Retired from the ring, Gross still checked in on the sport through television—eagerly watching matches broadcast by ESPN or HBO. Soon though, the boxers he’d watch became an unnerving distraction. Gross would not so much enjoy fights as critique them, looking for openings and weakness that he could exploit if given the chance.
Viewing others’ success gnawed at Gross.
“I just got tired of seeing these guys fight, when I knew I could compete with them,” explains Gross. “I missed [boxing]. It was such a part of me; I wanted to get the opportunity back.”
There was only one person in Gross’ mind that could help facilitate his return.
He immediately reconnected with Pat Davern, who previously cornered him as an amateur. The two had met at the former Tri-Fitness Gym in Prince Frederick, through mutual trainer Walter Allen (Davern’s son boxed under Allen).
“I always thought [Davern] was a very valuable asset to my training,” states Gross. “Something about him—he knows how to motivate.”
“We had always stayed in touch. He’d say, ‘Keith, you know what you’ve got. I’m going to these fights and you can beat these guys.’ He’s like a second father to me.”
Following the four-year hiatus (his final amateur fight was in the summer of 2003) and reunion with Davern, Gross picked up the gloves once again last October.
Unfortunately for Gross, the combination of bodybuilding work and a rich diet from culinary school had added 30 pounds to his frame since leaving the ring.
Missing the quick feet that served him so well before, sparring partners at Club One punished Gross in ways he had never experienced, not even as an amateur.
“I had never bled before; I was getting my nose busted in the gym,” remembers Gross. “I find out very quickly that I had to stay persistent. We just kept working until it clicked.”
Prodding Gross the entire time, Davern kept his fighter’s spirits up amidst the difficult readjustment. Davern knew the talent Gross still possessed; knew there was a capable boxer hiding beneath the shiners and bruises being dealt out.
“He’s always had natural abilities,” states Davern. “The weight wasn’t good for him; he got knocked down a few times. I told him, ‘just get back in there.’ ”
Debut
After six months, Gross’ exhaustive training had started to yield results. The excess weight and bloodied lips were gone. He was no longer the recipient during sparring, but the deliverer—leaving Davern to estimate Gross as “25 to 30 percent better” than his amateur days.
Shifting into his role of cautious manager, Davern lined up a few low-risk amateur bouts before Gross’ professional unveiling. Both matches fell through, however (one opponent refused to fight after seeing him in person), which left Gross little option but to move straight to the big league.
That debut came June 13, under the Baltimore Boxing promotion. Although his opponent, Orlando Pugh, overshot the agreed catch-weight of 163 by seven pounds, Gross and Davern took the fight anyway.
Once in the ring, Gross’ height (6 feet) and technical skill spelled instant trouble for Pugh.
“Mentally, I feel like nobody is going to outbox me. You’re going to have to fight me,” says Gross. “If I have brawl, so be it. But that’s not my style.”
Gross didn’t disappoint the dozens of friends and family who traveled to see him. By the fourth round he had already put away Pugh, winning by technical knockout.
That type of decisive opening victory—augmented by his boisterous support section—only seemed to confirm Gross’ ambitions.
“That’s what really made me know that this is going to happen,” states Gross of his first professional match. “All the components that needed to be there were coming together.”
Back at One
After a small reprieve from training (insisted on by Davern), Gross is back at Club One to prepare for his next match.
Known to take on all-comers, Nick Kisner is the latest challenger to line up opposite Gross.
The deceptively quick Kisner, an esteemed amateur heavyweight who soon plans to turn professional, keeps action lively. Gross can’t quite find the range against Kisner’s fleeting movements, his jab dulled from 14 days of idleness.
Kisner is sharper. The two have sparred countless rounds, but this time it’s the young 17-year-old who lands the better exchanges—though nothing too clean. After four quick rounds they both shake hands, each appreciative of the challenge put forth by the other.
Many are hesitant to spar Kisner, much less after two weeks of limited activity. But Gross doesn’t flinch—easy matches aren’t what bring him up Route 301, through rush hour traffic, to the Millersville gym.
“I’ve been working with the best,” Gross notes. “The key to success is sparring. We start with the best guy and fight all the way down.”
When not at Club One, Gross uses a borrowed garage on Route 231 to keep up with his training regimen. Patuxent Athletic Club in Prince Frederick has also offered to lend Gross and Davern their own personal space, an area they’ll furnish with equipment in the coming weeks.
Following his next bout on July 25, Gross plans to remain active through the end of the year, hopefully stacking a clean record that appeals to promoters.
“As long as he doesn’t get hurt, I’d like to fight every month or month and a half,” explains Davern. “Why stop now? We just get need him the right fights.”
One promoter who currently has Gross’ ear is Tony Jeter, a Club One regular and professional boxer himself.
Jeter exchanges banter with Gross after his workout, prodding him to fight on his upcoming card in September—an offer the latter politely leaves uncommitted.
“Talk to my manager,” Gross responds with a laugh, deflecting responsibility.
He unwraps his battered hands during their conversation—hands that will hold his soon to be born daughter (due in three months), hands that will continue putting in hours at his nine-to-five job, hands that Gross hopes to bear the weight of a title belt one day.
“I crave success,” says Gross, the determination rising above his mild-mannered voice. “I’m tired of hearing ‘should’ve, could’ve and would’ve.’ I want to be the one that actually makes it.”
Gross shrugs off the tenderness that runs from wrist to finger. His aching hands have plenty more left to do.
The Calvert Independent
