In the wild and wonderful state of Oregon, where the mountains are tall enough to tickle the clouds and the forests are so thick, even the trees start to lose their way, lived a group of plucky kids whose fists were faster than a one-legged jackrabbit in a hot dog race. This wasn't your ordinary bunch of kids; they were young, fierce, and had a passion for boxing. Rumor has it that these kids learned to jab before they could jabber, and they could throw a punch harder than an irate woodpecker. Oh, and they did it all under the watchful eye of their trainer, a retired boxing champion named Brawny Benny. Now, Benny wasn’t your average coach. This bulbous, broad-shouldered bear of a man was incredibly large, with fists as big as honeydew melons and a laugh that sounded like a walrus playing a tuba. Benny was as soft as marshmallow fluff on the inside, but he could be as tough as old boot leather when he needed to be. He trained his team of mini pugilists with a hefty dose of humor, a sprinkle of discipline, and a whole lot of love. Benny's teaching style was unique; if you messed up a punch, he’d make you tickle a trout or do a chicken dance. He believed laughter made for more agile fighters. Life in Oregon wasn't all boxing gloves and punching bags, though. These kids also had a blast fishing in the sparkling rivers, exploring the lush forests, and sprinting down the sand dunes like a group of hyperactive kangaroos. But they always found their way back to the ring, because in Oregon, boxing wasn't just a sport; it was a way of life. And as Benny always said, "In boxing, as in life, the key is to keep your feet on the ground and your guard up. And never, ever forget to laugh!"