offered me.”
“Aye, why not, eh? You’ll be fine. Fighting’s in your blood.” Tim replied.
“Need to keep it hush from May, though. Don’t want her to know, so if you speak to her, I’ll need you to cover any story I make up.”
“Aye, nae bother. When we get there the night, talk to Mike. Find out if the fight’s still on. If you’re lucky, you’ll be in.”
Spotting Mike as I arrived at the gym, I wasted no time in approaching him. He was chatting to Bull. Those two were practically joined at the hip.
“Hey, Mike, can I have a word?” I asked.
“Fire away, Joe.”
“Is the offer of that fight still on? If it is, I’ll take it.”
“Great, we can make that happen, as long as you don’t go cancelling on us at the last minute. We don’t take kindly to that kind of shit. Once your name’s in the ring, there’s no going back. You understand?” It seemed clear that cancelling would land them in the shit and me in a hole.
“This will be a good fight for you. Let’s check your weight on the scales.” Mike ordered and I made my way over.
“100.5 kg. OK, fine, but you’ll need to keep working your ass off, get rid of those extra kilos. Tim will keep you posted about the fight details.”
“Alright, cheers. When and where is it?”
“It’s down in Dundee next weekend, Saturday night. Tim will keep you right. I’ll give you a good spar the night, get you a little sharper.” Mike said.
Turning away, I started skipping with the rest of my training partners. Never thought to ask how many rounds or what size of gloves it was. Presumed it was a pro-boxing show. It just didn’t seem important, acquiring the money took precedence.
I put in extra effort that night, pushing it a little harder than usual, but it left me fatigued and thinking more about this fight tensed me up. It seemed to mentally and physically drain me that evening. Maybe it was the lie.
Nearing the end of the night knowing the sparring was approaching, didn’t fill me with joy. All the other boxers were much fitter and topped up on juice. The ‘roids charging blood through their pumped-up muscles, just helped them keep going.
“Right guys, sparring. Everyone can have a few rounds the night.” Tim yelled, standing with his customary stopwatch around his neck. There were five of us that night, and I had a bad feeling I was going to get pushed to the limit here.
Tim came over while I refreshed my dry throat at the fountain. “Joe, you’re in for a treat the night. Three minutes wi’ each guy here, a one-minute break between rounds. Just get through it best you can, and don’t give up or coast through it. Mike and Bull don’t want to see that.”
“Seems like I’m the one you want knocked out the night.” I tried to joke.
“Nonsense mate, you’ll be fine,” Tim replied.
Climbing through the ropes into the ring with my head-guard on and gum-shield in, taking a deep breath, Tim gave me a nod, asking if I was ready, although that was the last thing my mind was telling me.
The five guys outside the ring squatted against the wall, or stood with their gum-shields in and gloves on, ready to rumble. Toby was the last one lined up on the row and Chris the first. Good, the two hardest guys first and last.
All the boxers weighing over the 80kg mark. Chris and Danny were big, bulky bastards. Staring me down with a glint of fear in their eyes, showing I gained some respect around here.
“First two, ready.” Tim mumbled as he side-stepped around the ring, taking the role of ref again. Bull standing in the other corner, Mike taking a casual stance at the back of the ring.
First spar, Chris. Looking pretty wary of me, he didn’t come charging in, as usual. We exchanged combos in a more friendly fashion. I mean friendlier as in he wasn’t trying to charge me down, or rip my head off.
The old boxing brain started to return, dipping and
“Aye, why not, eh? You’ll be fine. Fighting’s in your blood.” Tim replied.
“Need to keep it hush from May, though. Don’t want her to know, so if you speak to her, I’ll need you to cover any story I make up.”
“Aye, nae bother. When we get there the night, talk to Mike. Find out if the fight’s still on. If you’re lucky, you’ll be in.”
Spotting Mike as I arrived at the gym, I wasted no time in approaching him. He was chatting to Bull. Those two were practically joined at the hip.
“Hey, Mike, can I have a word?” I asked.
“Fire away, Joe.”
“Is the offer of that fight still on? If it is, I’ll take it.”
“Great, we can make that happen, as long as you don’t go cancelling on us at the last minute. We don’t take kindly to that kind of shit. Once your name’s in the ring, there’s no going back. You understand?” It seemed clear that cancelling would land them in the shit and me in a hole.
“This will be a good fight for you. Let’s check your weight on the scales.” Mike ordered and I made my way over.
“100.5 kg. OK, fine, but you’ll need to keep working your ass off, get rid of those extra kilos. Tim will keep you posted about the fight details.”
“Alright, cheers. When and where is it?”
“It’s down in Dundee next weekend, Saturday night. Tim will keep you right. I’ll give you a good spar the night, get you a little sharper.” Mike said.
Turning away, I started skipping with the rest of my training partners. Never thought to ask how many rounds or what size of gloves it was. Presumed it was a pro-boxing show. It just didn’t seem important, acquiring the money took precedence.
I put in extra effort that night, pushing it a little harder than usual, but it left me fatigued and thinking more about this fight tensed me up. It seemed to mentally and physically drain me that evening. Maybe it was the lie.
Nearing the end of the night knowing the sparring was approaching, didn’t fill me with joy. All the other boxers were much fitter and topped up on juice. The ‘roids charging blood through their pumped-up muscles, just helped them keep going.
“Right guys, sparring. Everyone can have a few rounds the night.” Tim yelled, standing with his customary stopwatch around his neck. There were five of us that night, and I had a bad feeling I was going to get pushed to the limit here.
Tim came over while I refreshed my dry throat at the fountain. “Joe, you’re in for a treat the night. Three minutes wi’ each guy here, a one-minute break between rounds. Just get through it best you can, and don’t give up or coast through it. Mike and Bull don’t want to see that.”
“Seems like I’m the one you want knocked out the night.” I tried to joke.
“Nonsense mate, you’ll be fine,” Tim replied.
Climbing through the ropes into the ring with my head-guard on and gum-shield in, taking a deep breath, Tim gave me a nod, asking if I was ready, although that was the last thing my mind was telling me.
The five guys outside the ring squatted against the wall, or stood with their gum-shields in and gloves on, ready to rumble. Toby was the last one lined up on the row and Chris the first. Good, the two hardest guys first and last.
All the boxers weighing over the 80kg mark. Chris and Danny were big, bulky bastards. Staring me down with a glint of fear in their eyes, showing I gained some respect around here.
“First two, ready.” Tim mumbled as he side-stepped around the ring, taking the role of ref again. Bull standing in the other corner, Mike taking a casual stance at the back of the ring.
First spar, Chris. Looking pretty wary of me, he didn’t come charging in, as usual. We exchanged combos in a more friendly fashion. I mean friendlier as in he wasn’t trying to charge me down, or rip my head off.
The old boxing brain started to return, dipping and
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