tape and patted the loose end down making sure it was tight. I was packing the tape down between my fingers so I would have maximum movement and grip with my hands. The fights held at the Cellar were a combination of ground game, punching, kicking, general MMA style and I excelled in it. Not that I was perfect but beyond good was a fitting description. My ground game I was still developing. It was something I would probably work on my entire life or at least as long as my body held up enough to allow me too. What most the fighters that showed didn’t do was actually study. I not only worked on keeping my body fit but I trained quietly, honing each art to develop a game that would hopefully get me the hell out of a basement and into something legit someday. That day needed to get some gasoline in its ass. I wasn’t getting any younger.
Bouncing on my toes, I shadow boxed, warming up my arms for the fight ahead, my ear buds shoved in and my music up loud enough it drowned out everything else. Matt’s hand landed on my shoulder. The signal that it was time. I left the ear buds in, always did, refusing to take them out until I was at the steps that would lead me into the cage and put my hoodie back on before heading out the door.
Matt walked beside me, blocking wayward fans that reached out to try to put their hands on me. That was my boy. Good, bad or ugly, he’d always be there. It’s also why he was one of the few that could give me a dose of shit on a shingle when my head was fucked up and I’d swallow it. Hell on a rare occasion I’d even taken his advice. Trust me; he was as shocked as I was when I did.
Stopping at the steps that led into the cage, I jerked the buds from my ears, a new set of loud noises streamed in; filling the spot my music had vacated. I shoved my mouth piece in, chewing down on it to get it settled just right. The basement was fueled tonight, the crowd in a blood lust for the fights. Spotting Stacy; one of the female contenders who was sporting a wicked shiner and a shit eating grin; I tipped my chin at her in congratulations. She’d apparently won her bout. Good on her. Chick was fierce and I respected her for it. Plus that chick had self respect, most the female fighters did. She never tried to fool around with the male fighters, would put any of us down if we’d made a move on her. She’d long ago defined her reason for being at Cellar Door......to fight. Completely understood the female’s mentality.
Passing Matt my iPod, I ripped my hoodie over my head, cranked my neck side to side and mounted the steps while shaking my arms out. Centering up to the ring, I barely paid my opponent any attention. He wasn’t from around here, I’d never seen him before but that wasn’t going to stop the fact he would be going down in a quickness. The Ref called us to center, gave the brief list of rules and told us to tap knuckles. We barely grazed tape before it was on.
The kid was fast on his feet but his striking was for shit. Sloppy at best. Whatever had gotten him this far, to get him on a card with me was sorely lacking from what I was seeing. I jabbed out my right, slapping at his face, playing with him like prey. We circled and I bounced back as he shot for a takedown, his arms outstretched while he dove to try to gather my legs. He got one wrapped up but not quick enough. I hit the cage floor on my back pulling his weight with me and maneuvered into an arm bar set up. The kid was startled and in that moment of hesitancy I struck. Pulling his grip apart, I rolled so that one leg was over his neck, the other over his chest, his arm tucked in between both legs and I laid back. The Ref was there in a hurry, standing close enough to watch for the tap but far enough back to let us move. Laying my shoulders all the way to the mat, I bumped my hips up and could feel the tension along my opponent's outstretched arm. If he pushed me, I would break the fucking thing. He didn’t. His taped hand hit
Bouncing on my toes, I shadow boxed, warming up my arms for the fight ahead, my ear buds shoved in and my music up loud enough it drowned out everything else. Matt’s hand landed on my shoulder. The signal that it was time. I left the ear buds in, always did, refusing to take them out until I was at the steps that would lead me into the cage and put my hoodie back on before heading out the door.
Matt walked beside me, blocking wayward fans that reached out to try to put their hands on me. That was my boy. Good, bad or ugly, he’d always be there. It’s also why he was one of the few that could give me a dose of shit on a shingle when my head was fucked up and I’d swallow it. Hell on a rare occasion I’d even taken his advice. Trust me; he was as shocked as I was when I did.
Stopping at the steps that led into the cage, I jerked the buds from my ears, a new set of loud noises streamed in; filling the spot my music had vacated. I shoved my mouth piece in, chewing down on it to get it settled just right. The basement was fueled tonight, the crowd in a blood lust for the fights. Spotting Stacy; one of the female contenders who was sporting a wicked shiner and a shit eating grin; I tipped my chin at her in congratulations. She’d apparently won her bout. Good on her. Chick was fierce and I respected her for it. Plus that chick had self respect, most the female fighters did. She never tried to fool around with the male fighters, would put any of us down if we’d made a move on her. She’d long ago defined her reason for being at Cellar Door......to fight. Completely understood the female’s mentality.
Passing Matt my iPod, I ripped my hoodie over my head, cranked my neck side to side and mounted the steps while shaking my arms out. Centering up to the ring, I barely paid my opponent any attention. He wasn’t from around here, I’d never seen him before but that wasn’t going to stop the fact he would be going down in a quickness. The Ref called us to center, gave the brief list of rules and told us to tap knuckles. We barely grazed tape before it was on.
The kid was fast on his feet but his striking was for shit. Sloppy at best. Whatever had gotten him this far, to get him on a card with me was sorely lacking from what I was seeing. I jabbed out my right, slapping at his face, playing with him like prey. We circled and I bounced back as he shot for a takedown, his arms outstretched while he dove to try to gather my legs. He got one wrapped up but not quick enough. I hit the cage floor on my back pulling his weight with me and maneuvered into an arm bar set up. The kid was startled and in that moment of hesitancy I struck. Pulling his grip apart, I rolled so that one leg was over his neck, the other over his chest, his arm tucked in between both legs and I laid back. The Ref was there in a hurry, standing close enough to watch for the tap but far enough back to let us move. Laying my shoulders all the way to the mat, I bumped my hips up and could feel the tension along my opponent's outstretched arm. If he pushed me, I would break the fucking thing. He didn’t. His taped hand hit
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