slouched into the corner after the fifth round.
“Here Joe, get this down you. One round left!” said Tim as he tried to build the confidence in me, while pouring water down my throat and over my head “And for fuck sake, keep your hands up, your eyes are a fuckin’ mess.”
I tried not to think about what I’d look like after this. Just had to get this last round done and dusted.
“Come on mate, last round, let’s see if that Tilly grit’s still in there.” Tim said.
Immediately at the start of the round, Toby flustered forward with a sharp combo, hissing like a snake each time his punches hit, but I kept my hands up so it didn’t have the desired effect.
Remembering our first spar, I knew he'd be itching to make the most of the weakness showing in me. You could tell he was a well-seasoned boxer, judging by his speed, combos and elusiveness. Bouncing into my face again, slithering his chin against my soaked chest, connecting with a bouldering body blow then coiling his body back, he smacked me in the jaw with a wicked left uppercut. I clambered back, swinging a lacklustre left hook, missing as he weaved under my arm and floated back up, landing what felt like a bowling ball, shaking me to my boots. His eighty four kilo frame far too fast for me to cope with in my condition. My brain couldn’t function, I went to sea, legs wobbling as if balancing on a wave, eyes seeing double and unable to focus, the sound numbed like the echo of a muted speaker, but, I was still on my feet, still looking Toby in the eye, or at least I thought I was.
Under two minutes of the round left. I wasn’t going to make it. Suddenly he halted, refusing to take advantage of my wounded state, choosing to stand idle and wait for my recovery. Mike egged him on to finish me while I was handicapped. He either didn't have it in him, or was wary of my power when wounded.
Regaining my senses after fifteen seconds, I realised I had been let off the hook.
It was in his hands to drop me at any time, but he chose not to. I pretty much collapsed on the floor exhausted, as Tim signaled the end. Taking one last look at Toby, I turned and slumped out of the ring, not looking back.
“Well done, son. You’ve sure got the heart and guts for this game!” Bull bawled in a local accent and slapped his palm on my shoulder in a friendly gesture.
I didn’t reply, too exhausted to talk.
“Joe, you’re pretty bruised around the eyes, lad. Might want to get some ice on ‘em.” fussed Tim.
Once I made it to the changing room, I stole a glance in the small mirror hanging. May was going to go nuts!
Chapter 12
The Eyes:
Sheepishly entering the front door later that night, immediately tensing at having to face May and the kids…Oh god, the kids. I realised I had to deal with this head on, and strode into the sitting room where May was on the landline, chatting about nursing work. Hearing her mention the ARI, the cancer wards, the Anchor Unit, I was now annoyed with myself.
This wasn’t on, allowing her go back to work in the hospital, knowing the emotional trauma she would have to suffer.
I would have to think quick, make up a white lie about picking up some work next weekend, and use the four hundred to stop May returning to a job that would destroy her. Had to think on my toes here.
Coming off the phone, she flinched.
“Holy shit, Joe! What the fuck happened tonight?!” Jumping back in her seat, placing her hands over her mouth.
“Well, sparring was a bit rough the night.” I replied.
“Rough?! It must have been world war three, JOE! What are the kids going to say when they see you like this?” She was in shock at the state I was in.
“I know, I know,” I replied, with hands up, palms towards her, trying to calm her distress. “I’ll just tell them the truth. I was at boxing and took a few hits.”
“A few? Jesus, we decided years ago this wasn’t
“Here Joe, get this down you. One round left!” said Tim as he tried to build the confidence in me, while pouring water down my throat and over my head “And for fuck sake, keep your hands up, your eyes are a fuckin’ mess.”
I tried not to think about what I’d look like after this. Just had to get this last round done and dusted.
“Come on mate, last round, let’s see if that Tilly grit’s still in there.” Tim said.
Immediately at the start of the round, Toby flustered forward with a sharp combo, hissing like a snake each time his punches hit, but I kept my hands up so it didn’t have the desired effect.
Remembering our first spar, I knew he'd be itching to make the most of the weakness showing in me. You could tell he was a well-seasoned boxer, judging by his speed, combos and elusiveness. Bouncing into my face again, slithering his chin against my soaked chest, connecting with a bouldering body blow then coiling his body back, he smacked me in the jaw with a wicked left uppercut. I clambered back, swinging a lacklustre left hook, missing as he weaved under my arm and floated back up, landing what felt like a bowling ball, shaking me to my boots. His eighty four kilo frame far too fast for me to cope with in my condition. My brain couldn’t function, I went to sea, legs wobbling as if balancing on a wave, eyes seeing double and unable to focus, the sound numbed like the echo of a muted speaker, but, I was still on my feet, still looking Toby in the eye, or at least I thought I was.
Under two minutes of the round left. I wasn’t going to make it. Suddenly he halted, refusing to take advantage of my wounded state, choosing to stand idle and wait for my recovery. Mike egged him on to finish me while I was handicapped. He either didn't have it in him, or was wary of my power when wounded.
Regaining my senses after fifteen seconds, I realised I had been let off the hook.
It was in his hands to drop me at any time, but he chose not to. I pretty much collapsed on the floor exhausted, as Tim signaled the end. Taking one last look at Toby, I turned and slumped out of the ring, not looking back.
“Well done, son. You’ve sure got the heart and guts for this game!” Bull bawled in a local accent and slapped his palm on my shoulder in a friendly gesture.
I didn’t reply, too exhausted to talk.
“Joe, you’re pretty bruised around the eyes, lad. Might want to get some ice on ‘em.” fussed Tim.
Once I made it to the changing room, I stole a glance in the small mirror hanging. May was going to go nuts!
Chapter 12
The Eyes:
Sheepishly entering the front door later that night, immediately tensing at having to face May and the kids…Oh god, the kids. I realised I had to deal with this head on, and strode into the sitting room where May was on the landline, chatting about nursing work. Hearing her mention the ARI, the cancer wards, the Anchor Unit, I was now annoyed with myself.
This wasn’t on, allowing her go back to work in the hospital, knowing the emotional trauma she would have to suffer.
I would have to think quick, make up a white lie about picking up some work next weekend, and use the four hundred to stop May returning to a job that would destroy her. Had to think on my toes here.
Coming off the phone, she flinched.
“Holy shit, Joe! What the fuck happened tonight?!” Jumping back in her seat, placing her hands over her mouth.
“Well, sparring was a bit rough the night.” I replied.
“Rough?! It must have been world war three, JOE! What are the kids going to say when they see you like this?” She was in shock at the state I was in.
“I know, I know,” I replied, with hands up, palms towards her, trying to calm her distress. “I’ll just tell them the truth. I was at boxing and took a few hits.”
“A few? Jesus, we decided years ago this wasn’t
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