right
that snapped my head to the side from the impact. Blood spurted from my mouth,
and I tasted copper. I hated the taste of blood, which sucked, ‘ cause I tasted it often. The Destroyer had power on his side, there was no doubt about that. I heard my corner
screaming for me to keep my hands up. Obviously―how
could I be so stupid? Don't ever get too comfortable in the ring,
Jet. That's what my coach had always drilled into my head, and there I was,
letting that punch dictate the fight so far.
Just as I was getting ready to
hit him, he came at me with a one, two, three . All at
once, and the combination caused the sounds of bone cracking against
flesh―something that always turned my mom's stomach. I wasn't entirely
sure where my game was headed today, but I needed to start focusing now. The
blows had all landed on my face, but thankfully, they hadn't been hard ones.
The Destroyer went for another swing, but I blocked him. We exchanged jabs for
a few minutes before the bell rang, and we returned to our corners.
Round One was over, and I sat
down on the stool. My teammates applied an ice pack to my shoulder and gave me
a sip of water to rinse my mouth out with. I had a split lip, and my coach
applied something to clot the blood. While they were doing all that, they were
yelling at me about what I should have been doing, and asking why the hell my
hands weren't up blocking those punches. They were also informing me about the
weaknesses they found in The Destroyer, and how to zero in on them in the
fight. It was an incredible feeling, being in a fight. Despite the massive
amount of noise in the arena that night, when I was fighting, my mind instantly
zoned into my own corner. I could only hear them when they were shouting. It
was never possible to mix signals from another corner.
An example of this would be
penguins. When they are out in a flock together, they all look the same, but by instinct, a mother is still able to find her baby,
just by the sound of the baby's call. It works the same for me in a
fight―I am trained only to hear my corner yelling, and that is what I
focus on.
I nodded my head as they told me
what they expected from me this round. I stood up, and as the bell went off, we
went at each other with kicks flying, and punches slamming. I caught him with a
spinning back kick that left him unsteady, and followed that with a straight
right. He fell to the ground, but quickly got up before I could pin him.
I slipped to the side, and the
guy punched into the space where my head should have been. It was the perfect
opportunity for me to come in with an uppercut to the face that connected so
hard that The Destroyer staggered backwards. It took him a moment to recover
his footing. While he was doing that, he swung out his arm. I ducked, and came
back with a punch to the ribs, gut and face, landing them all perfectly.
The Destroyer threw another jab,
aiming for my face, but I blocked the punch, and returned with a right of my
own. I slammed my fist right into his face, and brought him to his knees.
I could feel that I was bleeding,
though I wasn't entirely sure where. I knew that I was doing well, maybe even
winning at that point. I allowed The Destroyer to get a couple of body shots in
as I set him up. What I didn't expect, however, was for The Destroyer to stand
up and hit me in the face. My head swung back, even though my body stayed
firmly planted on the cage floor. I came back swinging harder. I got close, and
grabbed around his head in a clinch, getting one knee into him before he shoved
me off him. I moved forward quickly, blood pouring down my face as I hit The
Destroyer with a pow, pow, pow of punches.
The Destroyer started to back
off, as my hits pushed him up against the cage. I was hitting him hard, but he
just wouldn't go down. The bell rang, ending the second round.
I returned to my corner, feeling
good about the round I just put in. My coach was icing my shoulders as I took a
swig of water,
that snapped my head to the side from the impact. Blood spurted from my mouth,
and I tasted copper. I hated the taste of blood, which sucked, ‘ cause I tasted it often. The Destroyer had power on his side, there was no doubt about that. I heard my corner
screaming for me to keep my hands up. Obviously―how
could I be so stupid? Don't ever get too comfortable in the ring,
Jet. That's what my coach had always drilled into my head, and there I was,
letting that punch dictate the fight so far.
Just as I was getting ready to
hit him, he came at me with a one, two, three . All at
once, and the combination caused the sounds of bone cracking against
flesh―something that always turned my mom's stomach. I wasn't entirely
sure where my game was headed today, but I needed to start focusing now. The
blows had all landed on my face, but thankfully, they hadn't been hard ones.
The Destroyer went for another swing, but I blocked him. We exchanged jabs for
a few minutes before the bell rang, and we returned to our corners.
Round One was over, and I sat
down on the stool. My teammates applied an ice pack to my shoulder and gave me
a sip of water to rinse my mouth out with. I had a split lip, and my coach
applied something to clot the blood. While they were doing all that, they were
yelling at me about what I should have been doing, and asking why the hell my
hands weren't up blocking those punches. They were also informing me about the
weaknesses they found in The Destroyer, and how to zero in on them in the
fight. It was an incredible feeling, being in a fight. Despite the massive
amount of noise in the arena that night, when I was fighting, my mind instantly
zoned into my own corner. I could only hear them when they were shouting. It
was never possible to mix signals from another corner.
An example of this would be
penguins. When they are out in a flock together, they all look the same, but by instinct, a mother is still able to find her baby,
just by the sound of the baby's call. It works the same for me in a
fight―I am trained only to hear my corner yelling, and that is what I
focus on.
I nodded my head as they told me
what they expected from me this round. I stood up, and as the bell went off, we
went at each other with kicks flying, and punches slamming. I caught him with a
spinning back kick that left him unsteady, and followed that with a straight
right. He fell to the ground, but quickly got up before I could pin him.
I slipped to the side, and the
guy punched into the space where my head should have been. It was the perfect
opportunity for me to come in with an uppercut to the face that connected so
hard that The Destroyer staggered backwards. It took him a moment to recover
his footing. While he was doing that, he swung out his arm. I ducked, and came
back with a punch to the ribs, gut and face, landing them all perfectly.
The Destroyer threw another jab,
aiming for my face, but I blocked the punch, and returned with a right of my
own. I slammed my fist right into his face, and brought him to his knees.
I could feel that I was bleeding,
though I wasn't entirely sure where. I knew that I was doing well, maybe even
winning at that point. I allowed The Destroyer to get a couple of body shots in
as I set him up. What I didn't expect, however, was for The Destroyer to stand
up and hit me in the face. My head swung back, even though my body stayed
firmly planted on the cage floor. I came back swinging harder. I got close, and
grabbed around his head in a clinch, getting one knee into him before he shoved
me off him. I moved forward quickly, blood pouring down my face as I hit The
Destroyer with a pow, pow, pow of punches.
The Destroyer started to back
off, as my hits pushed him up against the cage. I was hitting him hard, but he
just wouldn't go down. The bell rang, ending the second round.
I returned to my corner, feeling
good about the round I just put in. My coach was icing my shoulders as I took a
swig of water,
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