They look at it as a game of chess with fists.

Like the quiet board game, boxers say planning their next move is just as important as being fast with their hands.

But in chess, a match can go all day and nobody gets their nose broken.

They will tell you they don’t climb into the ring for money or to prove they are tough customers. Boxers really do look at the sport as venue where two men, or women, have an opportunity test their skills in a fight with rules.

But forget rooks, kings and checkmate – the one objective in the ring is to knock the other guy or gal flat on his or her back – and it does get nasty. Remember when Mike Tyson nibbled on Evander Holyfield’s ear?

Boy, that had to hurt.

I am not here to glorify or condemn a sport where athletes trade fists to make a living. If you despise boxing, feel free to skip this column and turn to the TV page to get an update on Tony Soprano and his family business. But if you want to know what motivates athletes to knock each other around for up to 12 rounds, then read on.

Talk to any boxer who has the stomach to go one on one with an opponent and the consensus is that keeping their cool is the name of the game. That’s why some boxers call it a thinking man’s sport. If they let anger take hold and they could find themselves looking up at a referee from the floor.

“The way I look at boxing is a street fight is a street fight,” said Ryan Gamache, who is making his professional debut on March 27 at the Multi-Purpose Center in Lewiston. “You get in the ring and it’s not about anger. It’s a chess game. It’s a brain game and it’s physical.”

He’s got that right. Boxing just might be the ultimate contact sport, and there’s no place to hide in the ring. Boxers don’t have the luxury of wearing 20 pounds of gear for protection.

But the risk of head trauma or boxing’s other long-term physical effects doesn’t seem to deter these guys from fighting. Why?

“We fall in love with the challenge,” said former two-time world champion Joey Gamache. “It’s where you are from. A lot of fighters are driven by destitution.

“You have to be a fighter and love fighting. We want to display our skills.”

Time for a reality check. When was the last time you saw a fighter from a wealthy family go the distance and win a world title? There’s no question boxing can be an avenue out of poverty, but it is still a tough road to travel to earn a paycheck, and few reach a pinnacle like Joey Gamache did. There’s a long list of broken men who never even got a shot at a title.

“Some guys just don’t have the ability to stand in front of guy and fight,” said Joe Gamache, Joey’s father, who has been running the Gamache Boxing Club at the Lewiston Armory for the past 27 years. “I liked boxing so much as a kid. I saw the dreams through my son.”

“It takes a certain kind of person,” said trainer and former boxer Glenn Cugno. “It’s not for everybody.”

For many boxers, the club is like a sanctuary from the streets. They put in endless hours of training to get a shot at a fight for little money, but they think nothing of it as they pound away at a heavy bag.

“For some, it’s a way out of something else,” said Don Labbe, 26. “It keeps you out of trouble.”

When Joey’s son, Steve, wanted to follow dad’s lead into the ring, his father tried to talk him out it. Steven refused to heed dad’s advice.

“I just like the competition of it,” said Steven Gamache. “It keeps you healthy.”

“I look forward to coming to the gym; I love the environment,” said Jake Rancourt, 17, of Sabattus. “It’s like a home away from home.”

And the sport no longer belongs exclusively to men. Step into Joe Gamache’s boxing club and you will see a handful of women and girls hitting the speed bag.

“It’s a good rush, it’s fun,” said 22-year-old Nicole Bouthot, who grew up watching the sport with her father. “At least we won’t get arrested in the end.”

“When I was here, I wasn’t getting in trouble,” said 41-year-old Mike Kyajohnian, who still hits the bag like he was 25.

Lindsay Kyajohnian, 14, wouldn’t let her father, Mike, discourage her from trying her hands at boxing.

“I grew up watching boxing,” said Lindsay. “I have always wanted to box. I’ve sparred. I got punched in the nose a couple of times.

“My mom told me that if I got my nose broken, she won’t pay to get it fixed.”

Joey Gamache, who is now a trainer and promoter, still can’t keep away from the ring even though he’s been retired for years.

“I would have fought for free,” said Joey Gamache. “The money was an added bonus.”

But not an incentive.

Tony Blasi is a staff editor who can be reached at [email protected].