Amputee Kyle Maynard proves yet again that there are ‘no excuses’

Bend down, put your hands on the floor, and bear crawl across the room. Just do it. Really.

Sucks, doesn’t it? It’s amazing the pain that this one simple, fairly natural movement can create in your shoulders, thighs, back, and just about everywhere else.

Now consider doing that for 38 miles, with a little slope in the middle that culminates at an altitude of 19,341 feet, and you’ll understand the magnitude of what 26-year-old congenital amputee Kyle Maynard accomplished last January when he climbed Mount Kilimanjaro — Africa’s highest peak — to become the first ever to do so without assistance.

The journey to the summit began seven years ago when a friend goaded him into hiking a small mountain overlooking Palm Springs, Calif. He’d just held a speaking engagement, he said, on the philosophies of his 2006 book "No Excuses," which chronicled his journey from being born with no arms or legs below the elbows or knees to becoming a football player, champion high school wrestler, and accomplished weightlifter.

Initially, he balked at the proposal, but his friend wouldn’t let it go.

"It was like a dare," said Maynard. "I was thinking in my head, ‘There’s no way I have enough time, I’ll be stuck up there with no clothes, no gear…’ and then as I was verbalizing these things, he said, ‘You just spoke about this. No excuses. Let’s do it.’ And it was awesome. It gave me the itch."

A few hours later, as he sat on the peak and watched a Cessna circle below him, and everything changed.

Seven years, a dozen preparation hikes, and scores of Crossfit workouts later, he began the 18-day trip up the tallest free-standing mountain in the world as a way to prove to the disabled — and specifically to veterans returning from America’s wars — that nothing is impossible.

Accompanying him were two veterans, Army Staff Sgt. Sandra Ambotaite and former Marine officer Chris Hadsall, who, according to the group’s mission statement, "deployed to combat zones and bear both seen and unseen scars from their combat tours." Also present was expedition guide Kevin Cherilla of the K2 Adventures Foundation, as well as a film crew from ESPN.

"Our goal was to reach the veterans that were laying in the hospital in Walter Reed or Brooks Army Medical Center that had recent injuries or burns," Maynard said. "It was to help them have some hope."

There was one other goal, too: spread the ashes of Corey Johnson, a Marine who had passed away in May of 2011, at the top of the mountain at his mother’s request.

"She said that Corey would like to be able to help in some way… and she asked if we would carry (his) ashes up," he said. Maynard agreed.

Two things about the excursion worried him: the sheer length of the hike, and the weather conditions. Although the weather would hold out, the distance proved hellish and forced Maynard to crawl through 12-hour days filled with boulders, ice fields, and uphill climbs.

"(It) was as bad or worse than I expected," he said. "The wear and tear on my body was the hardest part. I just remember several moments in days four or day five, laying down in my tent and crying… and going off in private to have those moments."

During those times, he forced himself to recall why he was there.

"There are so many brave men and women that go through their issues, they’re going through something way harder than I am, and they’re not giving up, so I’m not giving up," he said.

Nine days in, the team switched from the more gradual incline of the Machame route to the more direct (but far more hazardous) Western Breach as a way to speed up the hike. As Cherilla said in the ESPN video (which can be watched on YouTube), it’s "a big risk."

Maynard quickly agreed and fought through the pain as he nearly slid down steep slopes and had to attach chains to the specially made carbon-fiber shoes that covered the ends of his limbs to move in the snow.

He and his team reached the summit, and Maynard tearfully cast the fallen soldier’s ashes across Uhuru Peak, which is Swahili for "Freedom."

The experience, he said, was remarkable.

"That morning, you’re sitting there at the summit, above the clouds — we had to go through waist-deep snow to get there, which is neck deep for me — that was incredible," he said. "It was really just incredibly tranquil, so calm and peaceful."

Maynard, who had once again conquered that which had seemed invincible, hopes that his journey inspires others to similar ends.

"Over the course of our lives, there’s various times that are a call to adventure, and you’ve got to decide whether or not you answer it or whether you let it go," he said. "You’ve got to be willing to take the first step and take the leap of faith to do it."

I jokingly asked if we would ever see him on the slopes of Everest. Although he has other things on his list — he has "adventure ADD," after all — he is not nearly as hesitant as I anticipated.

"It’s funny, because our guide (Cherilla) said that the only way he would go back to Everest is if his kids do it, or if I want to," he said pensively. "He’s an amazing climber, and he’d be a great asset."

The wheels are already turning. With Kyle Maynard, that means "watch out."

Email: janoski@northjersey.com

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Rumble along the Passaic leads to rude awakening

Wednesday, June 15
BY STEVE JANOSKI


The air is charged at the packed AmeriHealth Pavilion on fight night, especially among the followers of boxer Vinny O’Brien, the local kid from Morris County who’s seeking his third professional victory in as many bouts.

This show, smaller in nature, isn’t like a title match — if you’re here, you probably know one of the fighters. That alone changes the dynamics of watching the encounter, as your heart somersaults with each punch, and for six or 10 rounds, you feel that you share your fighter’s fate.

When I get there, I find out that O’Brien’s fight, which was supposedly going to be televised nationwide on ESPN, has been made the "swing bout." This, more or less, means that he’ll go on whenever they need him to, which plays hell with both his mind and his adrenal glands.

The night turns out to be a jumbled mess. One fight gets pulled at the last minute, and the arena’s lights fail in the middle of another, a la "Ocean’s Eleven."

The half-hour delay lets an already drunk crowd slip further into inebriation, and the atmosphere grows tense as time ticks by.

The redeeming quality is that Main Events has matched good boxers, and the action is ferocious. Several fights are near upsets, and knockdowns are plentiful.

Unfortunately, O’Brien somehow becomes the last bout of the night, and as the welterweight begins to carve his way toward the ring to a recording of a lion’s roar, the ESPN crews are rolling up the electrical cords and dragging out their camera booms.

O’Brien is adorned in white trunks with a blue and red stripe down the side; his opponent, a Puerto Rican from Philadelphia named Rafael Montalvo, wears trunks decorated with the Puerto Rican flag.

The first round starts slowly as both fighters feel each other out. O’Brien takes some punches; he hasn’t yet learned to slip the jab. Brief, sharp exchanges seem to favor Montalvo, but no one lands anything of consequence.

The intensity rises in the second round. Initially they’re content to box from a distance, but eventually they close on each other, and Montalvo lands a hard left hook and a straight right that wobbles O’Brien.

They separate briefly but engage again, two ships of the line going volley for volley. Montalvo lands another damaging blow but, as he comes in, O’Brien comes back with a magnificent left hook that whips the Puerto Rican’s head around and drops him to the canvas. For a moment I think, "Vin’s done it again."

But Montalvo is different. He rises quickly and is on his toes, dancing, nodding his head to referee Earl Morton as he takes an eight count.

O’Brien thinks there’s blood in the water, and he approaches looking to land the Sunday punch that will send Montalvo across the Delaware in shame.

In his eagerness, though, he leaves himself open, and gets caught with a momentous hook that sends him to the ground, sprawling backward against the ropes.

He rises quickly as well, but he’s got the legs of a newborn calf and can’t seem to gain his balance, and I know right then that the fight could be, maybe should be, called.

Morton lets it continue however, and gives him a standing eight count that finishes out the round. The bell sounds, and O’Brien staggers back to his corner as his cutman flings water onto his face from a sponge and his trainer, Lou Esa, tries to bring him back to the world of the living.



Montalvo begins to take over in the third. He’s landing crisp jabs that swell O’Brien’s face and heavy hooks that begin to rob him of his faculties, but the brawler never takes a backward step — he’s determined to a fault now even though it’s clear that he’s in with a slicker, more experienced fighter.

He spends the end of the third and the start of the fourth round trying to line up a knockout punch that never comes; blood is coursing down his cheeks and his mop of black hair is sweat soaked and wild.

In the final round O’Brien takes a beating that would level most men. He’s still swinging and landing the occasional blow, but Montalvo’s hooks are too devastating, and when one catches him on the temple, he stumbles backward and falls into the ropes.

Before he rises, Morton waves the bout off. O’Brien was right – there will be no decision here tonight… but he is the one who has been knocked out.

E-mail: janoski@northjersey.com

http://www.northjersey.com/sports/123974744_Rumble_along_the_Passaic_leads_to_rude_awakening.html

Young fighter's quest for a lasting legacy

By Steve Janoski

In the back of what looks like a typical general fitness gym in Whippany sits an Olympic size boxing ring and a long row of heavy bags that sway and flutter like the ocean breakers over the rippled hardwood floor.


It’s here, among the smell of sweat and old hand wraps, that athletes are put through sweltering torture to the snapping rhythms of punches hitting leather meant to forge them into fighters.

One man here has risen a bit faster than the rest, though, and when Final Round Boxing’s pride and joy gets in the ring and goes to work, the whole gym stops and takes notice.

At 24 years old, he’s a relative newcomer to a sport where most champions train from their first steps, but as soon as he steps through the ring ropes, it becomes undeniable that the kid’s got a natural aptitude for violence; as he shadowboxes, his body hurls around like a gyroscope in a brutal ballet designed to devastate the hardiest of men.

Vinny O’Brien, lean and chiseled with slicked-back black hair, started boxing around three years ago and immediately showed his aptitude in the squared circle: a finalist in the 2008 NJ Golden Gloves tournament, he won the 141 pound title in the same tournament in 2010.

This Friday night, the East Hanover native will return to the Prudential Center in Newark for his third professional fight in the hopes of staying undefeated as he tries to turn a fledgling pro career into something bigger — much bigger.

A bell signals the end of the round, and his trainer, Lou Esa, steps between the ropes himself to work the focus mitts for the young welterweight nicknamed “The Lion.”

In another life, the mammoth 6 foot 6 inch Esa, 59, was a professional heavyweight who fought on Muhammad Ali’s undercards. With blonde hair and a huge smile, he talks with the swaggering confidence of one who’s knocked out 16 men.

He trains O’Brien every day, and calls him a “work in progress” whose maniacal attitude towards training is proving to be his finest asset.

“He’s only had eight amateur fights and two pro fights…but he works every day like it’s his last and I love that about him,” said Esa.

With every session he improves, the trainer says: increased movement, more powerful punches, the development of a left hook that can shake a building.

Pop, pop….pop, pop, bang goes the sweet cadence as combination after combination tear into the pads. Esa shouts encouragement as O’Brien throws a right hand to his chest.

“Yea, you stopped his heart with that one!” he yells.

A step to the side, and another right hand spits out from the furious dynamo, another yell, and I have no envy for his opponent.

“You hit somebody with that and its goodnight Irene!” Esa yells through his goatee.

O’Brien’s style is electrifying— he’s got no problem taking a punch to land one, and when he takes one on the chin, it’s like pulling the cord on a 5 foot 9 inch chainsaw.

He’s also white, which in boxing is nothing but a blessing; if you’re a good fighter, you can be transformed into the next “Great White Hope” overnight. If you happen to be a great fighter, it doesn’t matter what color your skin is— the money is out there.

“You’re in boxing, you could get lucky and make millions…I mean, you could set your kids up for life if you worked hard,” Esa tells me later.

He says that his fighter has a style that will fashion an iron bond between he and his fans reminiscent of the late Arturo Gatti, anotherNew Jerseynative andAtlantic Cityfavorite known for his die-hard following.

Friday’s fight will be broadcast nationally on ESPN’s “Friday Night Fights,” so if there’s any time to create that bond, it’s now.

O’Brien wants it just the same, because if it doesn’t work out in boxing….well, in his words, “It’s gotta work out.”

“There’s no backup plan. This is Plan A, Plan B, Plan C…this is everything,” he says.

It’s not an easy road to choose—littered with empty promises, shattered careers, and the corpses of good men, it’s known as a meat grinder that will use up the weak and lay low the strong.

But Esa knows the siren song of the villainous swine, and says he laid it bare to O’Brien from the first meeting.

“I was there, I been there, I done that,” he says. “I told him, ‘Look, they’re gonna’ offer you the world, and you gotta’ make the decision: it’s either you do it the right way, or we don’t do it,’ and he says, ‘No Lou, I promise I’ll listen.’”

Esa shakes his head as he relates stories about fighters from his generation who are so punch drunk that they can barely talk, or who lost everything on their journey down the rocky road.

“I won’t let that happen to (Vinny),” Esa says, shaking his head.“No matter what.”

E-mail: janoski@northjersey.com

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