This was met with more cheers, as Roberts was a more recognized name than Ethan. Sara remained silent throughout. She couldn’t suppress the anxiety she was feeling for Ethan. She felt so powerless as his opponent climbed into the cage. Ethan looked smaller than the other man. But Ethan was significantly taller. Sara put he hands to her mouth instinctively. The cage door locked as the referee stood in the center of the ring and pointed to each fighter. The both nodded. They were ready. The referee clapped his hands. The fight was on.
The fighters circled one another, Ethan pawing out a jab as LC Roberts, his opponent, bobbed his head. They were slowly feeling each other out. For thirty seconds, the strange dance continued. Then, at last, Ethan pressed forward, throwing long, clean, strikes. Roberts seemed to back pedal before answering with his own. He pushed Ethan against the cage. Ethan appeared to struggle to push the man off him. But at the same time Roberts struggled to take Ethan down to the canvas. After several seconds, the pair separated and took to the center of the cage. There, Ethan began to work his hands in earnest. A pair of left hands stung Roberts, the second snapping his head back with its force.
Roberts answered with a leg kick that landed with a dull thud and a right hand the grazed the side of Ethan’s forehead. Ethan continually clipped Roberts with his jab, a light, stinging punch. Roberts swung in wide, looping hooks, but Ethan’s long arms kept him safely out of reach. As the round drew to a close, Roberts surged forward throwing powerful punches. Ethan took advantage of his forward momentum and dipped below him, wrapping Roberts’ legs and taking him to the mat with ease. The round finished with Ethan atop his opponent.
The bell rang, and Sara felt a slight abatement of her nerves. Ethan had likely won that round. But there were still two more to go. Sara tried to read Ethan’s face. Was he tired? Had that round drained him? But Sara was too far away to observe anything. The bell soon rung again, and the fighters took to the center of the cage. This round saw Roberts fight with greater aggression. His strikes were faster, and more dangerous. Sara was nervous as each one whooshed by Ethan’s head. Ethan seemed more intent on taking Roberts to the mat, but Roberts stifled his takedowns at every turn. Ethan landed a few jabs and leg kicks, but largely the action was from Roberts.
Sara wasn’t sure who the winner of that round had been, but if the judges saw it for Roberts then the card was tied at one round each. It would all come down to this final 5 minutes. Sara’s heart raced. She felt so powerless as just a spectator, watching Ethan fight. It felt emotionally draining, exhausting. Like she was fighting too.
The third round bell rung. The fighters stood. Sara instinctively stood and clutched her hands together, silently focusing all her energy onto the cage, onto Ethan.
The bell rung and both fighters took to the center of the cage. They both reached out and shook hands briefly, a gesture of respect for a fight well fought thus far. And both were back at it. Ethan employed a strategy like his first round, snapping a jab into his opponent’s face. Circling, he tried to follow his jab with a powerful right hand, but it seemed always just a hair too slow. Roberts seemed content to circle and throw wild hooks and leg kicks. While Ethan’s legs never really seemed damaged from his efforts, the kicks landed loudly, and the crowd, biased in Roberts’ favor erupted in cheering each time they did. The crowd also cheered ignorantly as Roberts’ looping punches went ineffectually wide. They seemed to enjoy the display of punching power, despite the fact that it produced little effect. As the round wore on, Robert’s punches grew more desperate. With a minute left, Ethan timed it easily and drove his opponent onto the canvas. As the clock ticked down, the crowd booed, except of course for
The fighters circled one another, Ethan pawing out a jab as LC Roberts, his opponent, bobbed his head. They were slowly feeling each other out. For thirty seconds, the strange dance continued. Then, at last, Ethan pressed forward, throwing long, clean, strikes. Roberts seemed to back pedal before answering with his own. He pushed Ethan against the cage. Ethan appeared to struggle to push the man off him. But at the same time Roberts struggled to take Ethan down to the canvas. After several seconds, the pair separated and took to the center of the cage. There, Ethan began to work his hands in earnest. A pair of left hands stung Roberts, the second snapping his head back with its force.
Roberts answered with a leg kick that landed with a dull thud and a right hand the grazed the side of Ethan’s forehead. Ethan continually clipped Roberts with his jab, a light, stinging punch. Roberts swung in wide, looping hooks, but Ethan’s long arms kept him safely out of reach. As the round drew to a close, Roberts surged forward throwing powerful punches. Ethan took advantage of his forward momentum and dipped below him, wrapping Roberts’ legs and taking him to the mat with ease. The round finished with Ethan atop his opponent.
The bell rang, and Sara felt a slight abatement of her nerves. Ethan had likely won that round. But there were still two more to go. Sara tried to read Ethan’s face. Was he tired? Had that round drained him? But Sara was too far away to observe anything. The bell soon rung again, and the fighters took to the center of the cage. This round saw Roberts fight with greater aggression. His strikes were faster, and more dangerous. Sara was nervous as each one whooshed by Ethan’s head. Ethan seemed more intent on taking Roberts to the mat, but Roberts stifled his takedowns at every turn. Ethan landed a few jabs and leg kicks, but largely the action was from Roberts.
Sara wasn’t sure who the winner of that round had been, but if the judges saw it for Roberts then the card was tied at one round each. It would all come down to this final 5 minutes. Sara’s heart raced. She felt so powerless as just a spectator, watching Ethan fight. It felt emotionally draining, exhausting. Like she was fighting too.
The third round bell rung. The fighters stood. Sara instinctively stood and clutched her hands together, silently focusing all her energy onto the cage, onto Ethan.
The bell rung and both fighters took to the center of the cage. They both reached out and shook hands briefly, a gesture of respect for a fight well fought thus far. And both were back at it. Ethan employed a strategy like his first round, snapping a jab into his opponent’s face. Circling, he tried to follow his jab with a powerful right hand, but it seemed always just a hair too slow. Roberts seemed content to circle and throw wild hooks and leg kicks. While Ethan’s legs never really seemed damaged from his efforts, the kicks landed loudly, and the crowd, biased in Roberts’ favor erupted in cheering each time they did. The crowd also cheered ignorantly as Roberts’ looping punches went ineffectually wide. They seemed to enjoy the display of punching power, despite the fact that it produced little effect. As the round wore on, Robert’s punches grew more desperate. With a minute left, Ethan timed it easily and drove his opponent onto the canvas. As the clock ticked down, the crowd booed, except of course for
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