BAGHDAD, Iraq – I don't think I have ever worked harder to get beat up. To do a story about Baghdad's best boxing gym, in the Adamiyah district, first, we had to get permission from the local "Awakening Council." The "Awakening Council" is a militia, allied with the United States that controls Adamiyah. When we got
to the area, armed gunmen were already waiting for us, some of them not older then 14 or 15, and they led us to the gym.

Farouq Chanchoon at his boxing gym.

"Ah, good to see you," Farouq Chanchoon says in very broken English. He's the head coach at the Adamiyah gym and a boxing legend in Iraq. The first thing he shows me is his collection of medals. "Bronze medal, world cup 1981," he keeps saying. Chanchoun is a former Iraqi Olympian. He fought in the 1976 games in Montreal, and in Moscow in 1980. He won the bronze at the boxing world cup in Montreal in 1981.

With all of Farouq's stories I didn't even notice, he already put on his boxing gloves and ushered me into the ring. For a 53 year old, he hasn't lost his speed or his eye, and I can feel the punches rain on my body and face as I try to escape and fight back. All the while, Farouq's youngest students, about 20 kids between the ages of 7 and 14 clap and chant. You can tell Farouq has boxing in his blood. The way he moves, the ring is his natural environment.

But to the kids here, he is more than a coach. In war-torn Baghdad, Farouq is like a father and guardian to many of those who train here. He teaches them discipline, respect for each other, no matter if they are Sunni or Shia. "My doors are open to anyone who is serious about boxing," Farouq
tells me later. "No matter if they are Sunni or Shia, anyone can come here."

Ali Hassan is serious about boxing. He's 21 years old, Iraq's welterweight champion and my next sparring partner. I can escape his punches for about a minute until I take a right hook to the jaw that stops me in my tracks. "Some day, I hope I can fight in international championships and win
gold and silver medals," Ali says, and judging the way he beat me up, I don't doubt he has what it takes.

Ali often leaves work early to come to the Adamiyah gym, but for a long time that was impossible. For decades, the gym was Iraq's premiere address for boxers, but after the fall of Saddam Hussein, violence engulfed the streets of the neighborhood, Al Qaeda took over, and the gym was shut. Much of the boxing equipment was looted, the old boxing ring was later torn apart by some of the local residents and used as building material. "I always kept training," Farouq says, but it was hard and dangerous.

Adamiyah is almost 100 per cent Sunni, but Shia fighters regularly make their way to the gym. Farouq says even during the worst of the sectarian strife in Baghdad, he still welcomed Shia boxers. "It has never made a difference to me," he says. When the gym was closed, they would train in other locations and some shia risked their lives to learn from him.

Now that violence is receding in Baghdad, and with Adamiyah under the control of the awakening council, the gym has reopened. About a dozen new punching bags line the ring and classes are full, especially with younger fighters. Farouq says he's proud of his achievement and believes that Iraq will make a comeback in international boxing.

"I think it will take at least four years," he tells me, "but then we will have world class fighters again. I have no doubt in my mind."

Until then, the young fighters look up at the old, fading photos of Farouq in his glory days, throwing punches at international tournaments. And many of them hope they can achieve the same.