Story Board

The corner between the 9th and 10th rounds was frenetic, with hands moving and instructions being shouted. Ken was in the ring with Beth, wiping my face with a bloody towel ... he took and gave my nose a pinch ...

(I am bleeding?)

... and went to work on the cut over my right eye. I could hear Beth pleading with me to come up with 'one more round like that', and to 'let everything hang out, we are RIGHT THERE ... go to go out and knock the door in '.

My nice, sharp, powder blue trunks were splotched with dark red stains ... looking over Ken's shoulder, they were working as excitedly across the ring. So I guess the question is, humble reader, what happened?

Though I am telling you, it is almost a second hand account. I mean, I was there, and I was 'doing it', but as to being completely conscious and fully aware ...

I remember feeling super good as I walked out to start the 5th round. Had a spring as I went back to 'educating the jab', pushing my opponent back and moving around at angles. I snapped off a sharp one-two-one ... a jab and a right hand followed with a 'shotgun jab', to really stop Jackson in his tracks ... except he slid in underneath and landed a crushing left hook ...

... before the digital transition, before cable and satellite television, back when 'rabbit ears' were the only way you could get UHF channels and well before 24-hr news, TV stations would go off the air, airing a 'test pattern' that sometimes was accompanied with a high pitch tone. For the next four rounds, beginning the instant that left hook hit my chin, that is what I heard ...

... what I saw was shadows, ghost-like figures who I could hear above the pitch of the tones ... asking questions. "Where was I?" "How do I feel?" "Can you fight, do you want to fight?" "Step forward."

Good things there weren't any calculus questions in that quiz. I was never good at that or physics. Didn't know why. I was hoping that I could pass both my math and physics with a 'C' ...

I remember shaking my arms loose, and someone charging at me ... seemed mad or something. Not being a punk, and not wanting to ask questions of someone who wasn't talking, I did what came natural. I fought him.

So for the rest of that round, all of the next round, and the round after that, and the round after that, all I could do was fight back. Getting knocked down is like your nervous system being short circuited. You lose temporary control of your body as you fall, and when you hit the canvas, things begin to come back 'on line'.

As far as thinking ... other than 'get up', everything else is automatic. You have been here before, in your thoughts, in your bad dreams ... you remember what it was like when you had to spar with the older, stronger and better fighters, and you go back to that experience to pull from it, what you would need to survive NOW.

That is what was primary focus in my mind. The training would take care of everything else. I was going on will ... I still wanted to win the fight, thought that I could, and nothing had changed. I wasn't 'hurt', though my nose was bothering me in the here and now ...

"If you got one more round left in you Mark, you give it to me NOW!" Beth was imploring me to make the effort that I had just made ... which I had now 'conscious' awareness of making ...

"Step into the right hand ... you can get him with the straight right (which can 'beat' a left hook, btw, if executed properly)," Ken shouted as he left the corner. The ten second light had went on, and they officials were shooing he and Beth out of the the corner.

I stood up, and as I did, Beth gave me a little hug. "I love you, Mark", and she was gone. The referee motioned for me to come to ring center and Jackson and I touched gloves again (something that only sometimes happens nowadays ... used to happen all the time at the end of fights) as the bell sounded for the biggest three minutes of my career ...