Sara; who, despite herself, cheered loudly. Surely that takedown was enough to win the final round, and therefore, the fight.
The bell rung and both men stood. They embraced and both raised their hands, as if they each believed they had won. Sara held her breath as the announcer stood in the center and turned on the mike.
“Ladies and gentlemen. After three rounds we go to the judges’ score cards. Judge Fillis scores the bout 29 to 28 for Roberts!” The crowd cheered. But each bout had three judges’ cards to total.
“Judge Stenofsky scores the bout 29 to 28 for Ewing!”
A chorus of boos
“And Judge Wilkerson scores the bout 29 to 28 for your winner…”
Sara and Ethan both held their breath.
“LC Roberts!”
Ethan and Sara both but their head s in their hands. Defeated and broken and disappointed.
Chapter 3
The eggs cracked against the counter, and their contents spilled int o the pan. Their empty translucence slowly, almost impeccably, turning white under the heat. As they were stirred, the yolks broke, dissolving the entirety into a congealing orange flatness, even and smooth. The pan popped and crackled as the heat pass through them, transforming them into a solid mass. Joe looked up from cooking his dinner. The TV was on, blaring some ridiculous action movie. Two black, leather clad men on motorcycles were firing machine guns at one another erratically for some ill-defined reason. On the couch in front of the TV, lounged Ethan, slouched down, shoveling pretzels into his mouth.
Joe looked over at his friend. He called out over the din of the TV, “Really bro? You’re eating pretzels in front me? C’mon man! I have a fight coming up! I need to diet and you’re tempting me with pretzels?”
Ethan turned to Joe with a smirk, “I’m doing you a favor! I’m eating this stuff so you don’t have the temptation lying around the house!”
Joe smirked at him. At least Ethan was joking around now. Since his fight, Ethan had been in a funk. Every fig hter felt a sting after a loss, and everyone bounced back at their own pace. Some people needed a good night of drinking, and they were back in practice the night day; but Ethan’s loss had been particularly tough, and he had taken the better part of the week off of practice. He only seemed to go to work, come back, eat pizza and chips, and watch TV. It even made Joe miserable to watch.
“So , you heard from Sara?” Joe asked. Ethan didn’t turn away from the TV. Maybe he hadn’t heard. Maybe he didn’t have anything to say. Joe changed topics.
“ Am I gonna see you in practice tomorrow?” Joe asked, “I need all the training partners I can get to help me get ready.”
Ethan turned and looked at him, “Yea, I’ll probably be back tomorrow.”
Joe felt better. Tomorrow he would have to tell Ethan about his quasi-celebrity status.
After the fight, a fair number of MMA websites, podcasts and video blogs had all brought up LC Roberts’ win over Ethan. But all had watched the accompanying fight video, and universally it was agreed that Ethan had won. Some alleged that the judges had been bribed by Roberts’ coaching staff, others postulated that the crowd’s cheers for Roberts had made him seem more effective than he really was. Ethan had essentially gained a level of fame on the back of LC Roberts. Joe didn’t want to throw too much on Ethan’s plate, as his friend seemed to be in a bad place mentally, but Ethan’s trainers wisely felt he should take to the media and demand a rematch. But for that to happen, Ethan needed to be back in the gym. He wasn’t going to beat LC Roberts by eating pretzels and watching action movies. Joe was hoping Ethan found that spark again soon.
* * *
Sara stared blankly at her computer screen. The blue glow of the monitor illuminated her features in the darkened room. She sighed with exasperation. Writing as a profession was harder than it seemed.
The reality of having to see Ethan every day at work, for
The bell rung and both men stood. They embraced and both raised their hands, as if they each believed they had won. Sara held her breath as the announcer stood in the center and turned on the mike.
“Ladies and gentlemen. After three rounds we go to the judges’ score cards. Judge Fillis scores the bout 29 to 28 for Roberts!” The crowd cheered. But each bout had three judges’ cards to total.
“Judge Stenofsky scores the bout 29 to 28 for Ewing!”
A chorus of boos
“And Judge Wilkerson scores the bout 29 to 28 for your winner…”
Sara and Ethan both held their breath.
“LC Roberts!”
Ethan and Sara both but their head s in their hands. Defeated and broken and disappointed.
Chapter 3
The eggs cracked against the counter, and their contents spilled int o the pan. Their empty translucence slowly, almost impeccably, turning white under the heat. As they were stirred, the yolks broke, dissolving the entirety into a congealing orange flatness, even and smooth. The pan popped and crackled as the heat pass through them, transforming them into a solid mass. Joe looked up from cooking his dinner. The TV was on, blaring some ridiculous action movie. Two black, leather clad men on motorcycles were firing machine guns at one another erratically for some ill-defined reason. On the couch in front of the TV, lounged Ethan, slouched down, shoveling pretzels into his mouth.
Joe looked over at his friend. He called out over the din of the TV, “Really bro? You’re eating pretzels in front me? C’mon man! I have a fight coming up! I need to diet and you’re tempting me with pretzels?”
Ethan turned to Joe with a smirk, “I’m doing you a favor! I’m eating this stuff so you don’t have the temptation lying around the house!”
Joe smirked at him. At least Ethan was joking around now. Since his fight, Ethan had been in a funk. Every fig hter felt a sting after a loss, and everyone bounced back at their own pace. Some people needed a good night of drinking, and they were back in practice the night day; but Ethan’s loss had been particularly tough, and he had taken the better part of the week off of practice. He only seemed to go to work, come back, eat pizza and chips, and watch TV. It even made Joe miserable to watch.
“So , you heard from Sara?” Joe asked. Ethan didn’t turn away from the TV. Maybe he hadn’t heard. Maybe he didn’t have anything to say. Joe changed topics.
“ Am I gonna see you in practice tomorrow?” Joe asked, “I need all the training partners I can get to help me get ready.”
Ethan turned and looked at him, “Yea, I’ll probably be back tomorrow.”
Joe felt better. Tomorrow he would have to tell Ethan about his quasi-celebrity status.
After the fight, a fair number of MMA websites, podcasts and video blogs had all brought up LC Roberts’ win over Ethan. But all had watched the accompanying fight video, and universally it was agreed that Ethan had won. Some alleged that the judges had been bribed by Roberts’ coaching staff, others postulated that the crowd’s cheers for Roberts had made him seem more effective than he really was. Ethan had essentially gained a level of fame on the back of LC Roberts. Joe didn’t want to throw too much on Ethan’s plate, as his friend seemed to be in a bad place mentally, but Ethan’s trainers wisely felt he should take to the media and demand a rematch. But for that to happen, Ethan needed to be back in the gym. He wasn’t going to beat LC Roberts by eating pretzels and watching action movies. Joe was hoping Ethan found that spark again soon.
* * *
Sara stared blankly at her computer screen. The blue glow of the monitor illuminated her features in the darkened room. She sighed with exasperation. Writing as a profession was harder than it seemed.
The reality of having to see Ethan every day at work, for
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