STEVE CORNELIUS CJ Staff Writer / Editor

Tucked behind a modest collection of storefronts along North U. S. 27 in Eubank, a former pet kennel has taken on new life. The barking is gone, replaced by the sharp snap of jump ropes against a concrete floor and the steady thud of gloves punching heavy bags.

Beneath fluorescent lights, young boys and girls in headgear circle and pivot, learning how to slip a punch, steady their breathing and hold their ground. Mounted high on the wall, a bold flag announces the gym’ s renewed identity: Sons of Thunder.

The price of admission? Free.

More than 20 years ago, the original Sons of Thunder boxing club was born in the neighboring Science Hill community, the brainchild and passion of the late Brett McCullough.

One of the young men who walked through McCullough’ s doors back then was Jaren Emerson. In 2006, Emerson wasn’ t looking to become a boxer. He was a Mixed Martial Arts enthusiast, confident in his kickboxing skills, but looking for some sparring rounds.

He remembers the moment his confidence hit the canvas. His first real round with a trained boxer ended with Emerson flat on his back, staring at the ceiling.

“ That’ s when I realized,” he said,“ I don’ t know

anything about boxing.” McCullough saw something in him. If Emerson wanted to learn, he was welcome back. So he came back. Again and again.

At the time, McCullough was the only person in the area truly teaching boxing fundamentals. MMA fighters would drift in for sparring and boxing instruction, only to discover that raw toughness wasn’ t the same as technical skill. Under McCullough’ s watch, they learned the difference.

But passion doesn’ t always pay the bills. Training boxers wasn’ t enough to keep the lights on, and eventually the original Sons of Thunder gym closed its doors.

In 2020, during the

height of COVID, McCullough passed away. Before he did, he reached out to Emerson with a request: help him bring Sons of Thunder back to life.

The two had begun discussing locations and possibilities, but time ran out. After McCullough’ s death, Emerson drifted to other gyms, coaching where he could and carrying forward the lessons he’ d learned.

And he noticed something that didn’ t sit right with him.

Kids were being charged almost $ 200 a month to train.

“ For most families around here, that’ s just not possible,” Emerson said. For him, the math simply didn’ t add up.

So he made a decision