THE OPENING BELL

SOMETIMES NOT KNOWING IS GOOD

Because I understood that I was being 'brought in' for the cat, but finding out we were the semi-main event ... man, they were going to be looking out for this cat!

Since I have never been taller than 5'11, it goes without saying to say that the guys I fought were 'bigger' than me. This guy was no exception. It also means that how I intended to conduct my fight was no real secret either. He would want to stay at range and I need to close the distance.

Yet, not so much. My 'reach' is long for my height and that lets me, along with my hand speed allowed me to hit guys who wanted to hang on the outside. Figuring that he was a little rusty, I did play to type, and closed the distance between us. The first round is a round that is often up for grabs in pro fights, as some cats use it as an extra warm up, and walk around the ring, goal not to make any big mistakes.

I used my handspeed and a little head movement to work my way in, choosing to pick at him with jabs to the head. The only time I tried to hit him with power, was going at his body in close or to his SHOULDERS. Didn't want to take a chance to swing hard and miss badly, leaving myself open for counters or throwing myself off-balance.

The guy 'let me' win that round. Knowing that he was full of confidence, I wanted him to have it, because I was going to use it against him. I had no illusions about an easy night, but to be sure he did.

The second round he came out for work, started snapping his jab and trying to move smartly. He did pop me with a couple of shots, but I was still able to get underneath his arms and get at his body. That was going to be the key, for me to cut him to the body, because even with his size advantage, he was a mover, a boxer, and not much for the stand there and trade.

He was getting frustrated, because he really couldn't hit me like he wanted to, and I had the nerve to actually have a plan and was working on it. I was 'flashing' punches at him, being quick and fast, not so much as hard. I mainly wanted to play 'last tag', being first with punches and then punching after he fired off, so that he couldn't hit and step back. My timing wasn't there, but my stamina was, and I kept the pace up to make him move, react to my aggression.

In the third round, the inevitable big exchange happened. I am sure that his corner got on him really hard, because he came out with a purpose, and he wanted to put some hurt on me. This was more in my wheelhouse, because he was moving less, trying to set down on his punches and crack. But along with my, dare I say it, quickness (because other than in boxing, I don't move quickly at all!), I had been giving him trouble. The steady body attack slowed him too, so that when he sat down on a nice combination, I was there to counter him with a overhand right, that sat him on his butt!

The crowd went wild! I was able to land it because it was 'in my tool kit'. I had been working on the Ken Norton right hand, because my best tool, the left hook, was not sharp enough. The rust was making it 'stick' and that would have left me too open. But this punch, even when off, still is hard to counter. And if it lands, woo boy!

He got up and I did go after him. The crowd was going crazy, and I popped him a few times. But the bell rang and that moment was missed.

I was tired! I essentially walked with him the 4th and 5th rounds, kept my defense up. Didn't even want to work close, not until I had caught my breath. The break before the 6th and final round was intense, because I felt that I was ahead, you can't be too sure.

The cat wasn't either. He hadn't came all the way from NYC to get beat by a rube. That is what was happening, and he came out to change that in the last round. I wanted to win that fight, all the early mornings or running, the many days spent work, school and training, nights sleeping next to the prettiest Delta east of the Appalachain's, smelling fresh and clean, but not being able to touch ...

One of the hardest things to do in the last round of a fight, is to keep cool and keep your form. I made sure that in training that there would be sharp last rounds of sparring and on the heavy bag, so when I was in a live fire situation, I could keep my stride.

Staying with sharp straight punches, I got thru with another straight right that wobbled the guy. They could have called that a knockdown, as he stumbled and tripped into the ropes as he fell. But he may I have tripped him too, who is to say? The fall seemed to sapp a lot out of him, as I pressed my attack, looping punches behind his elbows and then bringing those punches up splitting his guard with uppercuts.

Bell rang, and we did hug at the end, as much out of fatigue as out of respect. I won my first fight, and I have a picture of me and my corner, taken by My Delta Girl. That was a great night, ended with a stop at IHOP in Fayetteville on our way home. Got to go to work the next day with discolorations from match and when the story made it into the News & Record the day after, all the cats at work and at school really looked at me different. After all, it is one thing to say you do something like that, but an entirely different thing when you actually go out and do it.

THE BIG FINISH
In this story, I hope you understand how it is just a flick of the switch for me to be 'armed'. So when I would talk about being in Chicago and Nebraska keeping me from trying to take some guy apart, it should have a different resonance now. As there isn't any 'crying', thinking that something bad is going to happen in my fight, you DON'T get between me and a 'target acquired'. For her to be able to keep me from 'doing what I do'... that just hasn't happened too many times. I repeat it to myself, because she HAS to be special to me ...

... but ah, am I special to HER. That is for the other journal! Anyway, that was my first time, and indeed it was special. It hurt a little, there was some blood, but end the end, it felt really good and I couldn't wait to do it again!