Date: Uncertain.

Time: Afternoon.

Place: The back yard.

Significance: Liver punch education.

For years I had seen innumerable fighters crumble the instant a left hook struck their livers but I never understood why. One afternoon I learned the hard way.

A buddy and I were sparring in the back yard and for the first few minutes it proceeded uneventfully. But sometime during the third round I received a flash of clarity that lives on to this day.

I obviously didn’t see the punch coming or else I would have been able to prepare myself for the impact. The moment the hook sunk into the right side of my body the pain was instantaneous and unmistakable. My legs crumpled beneath me and all the air that had been in my body was sucked out. I felt as if a million tiny needles were poking my body from the inside out. My entire being was thrown into an immediate conflict: My mind screamed for me to get up because I couldn’t stomach (no pun intended) the indignity of a knockout loss, but the rest of my body screamed back “No! We can’t move!”

I’m someone that prides himself on being in control at all times, but during this moment in time I had none. I was lying on the ground in severe pain but I couldn’t utter a sound and I couldn’t draw in a breath. I was afraid that I was going to die from suffocation – as a teen-ager, no less.

Now I understood why even the best-conditioned athletes couldn’t haul themselves up within a referee’s count of 10. I was no longer ignorant of their suffering. The Mexican hook was the real thing and there was nothing I could do but wait for the pain to subside.

The recovery process began about 15 seconds after the punch landed when I finally drew in my first tentative breath. The ability to move my limbs came a bit later and within a minute I finally struggled to my feet. By then I was a changed person with a new and indelible perspective.

Every now and again my mind instantly shifts back to that time whenever I see a fighter fall victim to that savage blow. Decades later, I couldn’t fathom how Marcos Maidana arose from a flush liver shot from Amir Khan, much less put forth such a gallant effort the rest of the way. It was a feat I could have never done, for when I had my chance it not only hurt to laugh it hurt to think about thinking.