08/17/2026
A Recap of Last Night — The Return to the Clyde 🥊❤️
I didn’t sleep much Friday night.
There was just too much running through my mind leading up to Saturday’s event. I kept going over the bout list, thinking about our boxers and their matches, wondering where the merchandise table would go, thinking about weigh-ins, officials, equipment—and wondering how in the world it was all going to come together.
I arrived at the Clyde around 10:00 Saturday morning, about two hours before weigh-ins. I immediately started putting things together. Merchandise table. Equipment. Checking the ring ropes. Making sure everything was secure.
Then people started showing up.
Parents came to help.
Coaches came to help.
Volunteers stepped in.
And somewhere in the middle of all of it, I realized something:
I didn’t have to do everything myself.
I was surrounded by people who cared just as much about making this night special for our kids as I did.
Dr. Howard arrived early and began doing pre-fight and annual physicals for the boxers. From there, Dr. Howard and I worked through weigh-ins and pre-bout vitals.
Before long, it was time to start wrapping hands.
I looked around and saw three or four coaches wrapping hands at the same time. Boxers were putting on their uniforms. Coaches were giving last-minute instructions. Kids were nervous, excited and ready.
Somehow, everything had come together.
Before the fights began, we had an opportunity to recognize three organizations that were absolutely vital to the creation and success of the SLCSO PAL Boxing Club: the St. Louis County Sheriff’s Office, Hermantown Community Church, and Clyde Iron Works.
Without these organizations—and more importantly, the people behind them—we would not be here today.
Then we turned our attention to our coaches.
With our boxers standing together in the ring, we recognized the men and women who give countless hours of their lives to these kids.
Our program runs because of our coaches.
They show up.
They wrap hands.
They hold mitts.
They work corners.
They encourage kids when they’re struggling and celebrate with them when they succeed.
Most importantly, they believe in them.
Then the National Anthem was sung.
It was finally time.
I refereed the first two bouts, and before calling the first boxers into the ring, I stood there for a second and looked around the Clyde.
I wanted to soak it in.
After everything that went into this night, I didn’t want the moment to pass without appreciating what was happening.
Boxing was back at the Clyde.
Our PAL Boxing Club was hosting its first home show.
And I was standing in the middle of the ring.
It was surreal.
The first two boxers were only 9 and 10 years old. As they entered the ring, they circled it and bowed to each judge—a tradition we have used for years as a sign of respect to the officials and a way for the young boxers to get out of their corners, move around and settle their nerves.
These two may have been young, but they already had years of experience between them.
And I had the best seat in the house.
For three rounds, I watched a beautiful display of amateur boxing. They went toe-to-toe, exchanging combinations and showing incredible skill for their age.
When the final bell rang, the young boxer from North Dakota had his hand raised.
Then came Bout #2.
And this one was special.
Neither Ayden nor Trey had been able to secure an outside opponent, but both desperately wanted an opportunity to showcase everything they had been working on.
So they boxed each other.
Ayden stood in the red corner.
Trey stood in the blue.
Two SLCSO PAL coaches worked each corner.
And I stood in the middle as the referee.
This was the first competitive bout in the history of the SLCSO PAL Boxing Club in Duluth—and both corners belonged to us.
The boys started cautiously, each trying to figure the other out. Toward the end of the first round, though, they started letting their hands fly.
From there, it became a back-and-forth battle.
When it was over, the judges felt Trey had done enough to earn his first victory.
But what happened afterward made me even prouder.
Little Jay (our 5 year-old boxer) handed Trey his award, and then Trey and Ayden embraced, shook hands and showed everyone exactly what this sport is supposed to be about.
I stood back and looked at those two young men with so much pride.
Not just because of the boxing skills they showed.
Because of the sportsmanship they showed.
The night was packed with fights, and because we were short on officials, I had to wear a lot of hats.
I refereed.
I judged.
I worked corners.
I helped warm up our boxers.
There were moments when I started to feel overwhelmed.
And every single time, I was reminded again of the incredible people surrounding me.
Our coaches stepped up and made sure every boxer was warmed up, wrapped and ready.
I had the opportunity to share the corner with Coach Mick as he worked with his grandson, Rex.
Rex had a tough fight against a skilled young boxer from Brainerd. They went back and forth, exchanging punches and combinations.
Rex didn’t get his hand raised that night.
But he gained something much more important—experience and confidence.
Those things will follow him into every fight that comes next.
Then came Grey.
I was warming up my daughter, Nora, so I could only catch glimpses of Grey’s fight.
But every glimpse I caught was spectacular.
Grey was matched against a tough boxer from Gust Gym in Wisconsin, and neither kid wanted to give an inch.
They battled.
They exchanged.
They competed.
In the end, the Gust Gym boxer had his hand raised.
When I saw Grey afterward, he was smiling and pumped up.
That told me everything I needed to know.
Then it was Nora’s turn.
This one was different for me.
Because now I wasn’t just a coach.
I was Dad.
I was so excited for my daughter.
She stepped into the ring against a tough 14-year-old boxer from Gust Gym, and neither girl wasted any time.
They threw hard.
They exchanged.
They both tried to impose their will on the other.
After three hard, competitive and close rounds, we stood in the middle of the ring awaiting the decision.
The Gust Gym boxer’s name was called.
For a brief moment, my heart sank.
I thought about all the work my daughter had put into getting there.
The hours in the gym.
The nerves.
The pep talks.
The encouragement.
The sacrifices.
But then something happened that reminded me why this sport is so incredible.
Her opponent’s hand shot into the air. She jumped so high with excitement she nearly came out of her shoes. Then the emotions hit her.
She started crying.
After being cleared by the doctor, her father and her team wrapped their arms around her, and she wept.
She was so incredibly proud of herself.
That moment will live in her memory forever.
And on the other side of the ring was my daughter.
Nora was devastated.
She cried.
She felt like she had failed.
People from the crowd—family, friends and even people she barely knew—came over and told her how well she had done.
But at that moment, she didn’t need to hear it.
She needed a little time.
She needed to cry.
She needed her emotions to catch up with what she had just experienced.
Nora is 12 years old.
She stepped into that ring against a tough 14-year-old and gave everything she had.
Twenty or thirty minutes later, the tears started drying.
Then came a smile.
And later that night, Nora was selected to receive the Grit Award, chosen by our announcer and officials.
She left the Clyde with a little less sting from the loss and a lot more excitement about what comes next.
She has a bright future.
Both of those girls do.
And I hope someday they both understand how special the moment they shared really was.
Then came Ryli.
Ryli stepped into the ring for the first time, unsure of exactly what to expect.
He started cautiously, trying to figure out his opponent. Then his opponent jumped on an opportunity and landed a right hand Ryli didn’t see coming.
Ryli went to the canvas.
But he got back up.
All heart.
The referee, out of caution for Ryli’s safety, stopped the fight.
It was absolutely the right decision.
As coaches, we want our boxers to overcome adversity. We want them to fight through difficult moments.
But above everything else, we want them safe and able to box another day.
Ryli was checked by the ringside doctor and cleared.
Afterward, he was in great spirits and thankful for the opportunity to finally step into the ring.
Ryli is a great young man, and we are lucky to have him on our team.
Next was Aaron.
Aaron came out fast. He was slick and difficult to hit, putting combinations together and using feints that made his opponent hesitant to throw.
The second round was more of the same, although his opponent began finding success using his reach and jab.
The final round was competitive, but when the decision came, the judges awarded the victory to the opposing corner.
That’s boxing.
Sometimes you win. Sometimes you learn.
On to the next one.
Then came the main event.
And this one meant more to me than I could probably ever explain.
Nick Pristash was the first boxer to ever sign up at my former gym, Lorenzi’s Boxing, back around 2007–2008.
Nick was only about 9 or 10 years old.
In 2011, Nick was our youngest competitor when we hosted our first boxing event at Clyde Iron Works.
Now, nearly 15 years later, Nick was walking back into that same ring.
This time as the main event.
Think about that.
The little kid who was there at the beginning was now a grown man headlining The Return to the Clyde.
Nick faced a tough boxer from Champions Boxing Team in Minneapolis.
It was a back-and-forth chess match.
His opponent was strong, fast and busy. Nick countered, pressured forward and continued trying to find an answer for his opponent’s punch output.
When it was over, his opponent’s hand was raised.
And just like that, the magic of the night was beginning to wind down.
Nick looked around the building and took it all in.
So did I.
I gave him a huge hug.
And for a moment, I wasn’t looking at the grown man standing in front of me.
I could see that kid again.
The kid I coached all those years ago.
The kid who boxed inside this very building when he was young.
And now here we were again.
Different chapter.
Different team.
Same building.
Same sport.
Same love for boxing.
I couldn’t have been more proud of him.
Looking around the crowd, I saw so many people I had trained and coached over the years.
People from Lorenzi’s Boxing.
People from Bemidji Boxing Club.
Former boxers.
Old friends.
Families.
My former Bemidji boxer Max was there and boxed on the card, and I even had the privilege of refereeing his match.
It made me realize something.
Maybe a boxing gym is never really just a building.
The walls change.
The names change.
The athletes grow up.
Some people move away.
Some come back.
But the relationships remain.
At the end of the night, we handed out the final awards and gathered everyone together for our first SLCSO PAL Boxing Club team photo at the Clyde.
Standing there, it all felt strangely familiar.
Just with different faces.
Eventually, the ring was packed away.
The chairs and tables were put back.
The crowd disappeared.
The lights went out.
And I went home with my family.
I ate a quick meal, hugged my kids and my wife, told them I loved them, and finally got ready for bed.
And just like that…
The first home boxing show in the history of the SLCSO PAL Boxing Club was complete.
Another chapter written.
Another night at the Clyde in the history books.
But this one was different.
This one belonged to a new generation.
To my wife, my kids and my family—thank you for always supporting this crazy passion of mine and for being there for Nora and our entire team.
To my partners, coworkers and administration at the St. Louis County Sheriff’s Office—thank you for believing in what this program can do for our community.
To Pastor Dan Stone and Hermantown Community Church—thank you for giving us a home and believing in this vision before there was even a ring in the room.
To Alex Giuliani and Clyde Iron Works—thank you for opening those doors to boxing all those years ago and opening them for us once again.
To our coaches—this program does not exist without you.
To Dr. Howard, our officials and volunteers—thank you for giving your time and making sure these kids had the opportunity to compete.
To our sponsors and donors—thank you for believing that investing in these kids is worth it.
To every gym that traveled to Duluth and trusted us with your athletes—thank you.
To every parent, grandparent, family member, friend and fan who bought a ticket, filled the Clyde and cheered for these young athletes—thank you.
And to our boxers…
Wins and losses will come and go.
Years from now, nobody is going to remember every scorecard or every decision.
But I hope you remember the people standing in your corner.
I hope you remember having the courage to climb through those ropes.
I hope you remember what it felt like to represent your team, your family and your community.
And I hope you remember that whether your hand was raised or not, we were proud of you.
Friday night, I couldn’t sleep because I was worried about how everything was going to come together.
Saturday night, I went to bed realizing it already had.
Not because of me.
Because of all of us.
The coaches.
The boxers.
The parents.
Law enforcement.
The church.
The Clyde.
Our sponsors.
Our volunteers.
Our community.
That’s what PAL is supposed to be.
And last night, I got to watch it happen right in front of me.
My heart is full.
Thank you, Duluth.
Thank you, boxing.
Thank you to everyone who helped make The Return to the Clyde something I will never forget.
The first one is officially in the books. 🥊❤️
And I already can’t wait for the next one.
Keep Showing Up.
