The Boxer

I stepped out the front door it was five am and still dark as sunrise wasn’t until five thirty. It was a typical October morning for Brisbane, the temperature had already reached twenty-five degrees and the humidity was high. I walked down the driveway to the foot path and started jogging. I would run for an hour and cover fifteen kilometres. This was a daily routine for me, run every morning and hit the gym in the afternoon after work.

I had been boxing as an amateur for two years and held a national title, in the light heavy weight division, and was now going to turn professional. My first professional fight was tonight, and my opponent was a tough hard-hitting fighter who had won all five of his professional fights, three by knock out. I hadn’t seen him fight, myself, but had been given a good run down on his fighting style by my trainer, Colin. Apparently, he was aggressive and crowded his opponents to trap them on the ropes where he would then proceed to bombard them with a barrage of heavy punches.

I had reached the sports oval at the end of my street and was now in a lather of sweat. I needed to drop a kilo before the weigh in tonight as I needed to be eighty-one kilos, so the sweating was a benefit.

As I jogged my thoughts were on tonight. I wasn’t as worried about the fight as maybe I should be. I felt confident that I had the skills to win. I had a long reach and was considered to have good defensive boxing skills. I needed to be confident but at the same time it would be stupid to be overconfident and cocky. My girlfriend, Silvia, was not happy with my decision to turn professional and was annoyed, to say the least. I had to not let this be a distraction and needed to keep my mind on the fight. I had been running now for an hour and headed home for a shower and take off to work.

I worked as a brick layer and was now busily laying bricks and trying to keep my mind on work which was difficult when my upcoming fight was the main topic of conversation on site today. Most of my work mates were coming to the club tonight to watch the fight which would be good. A couple of my mates were also coming to watch but none of my family were going to make it as my brother was down in Sydney working and my father was not well.

The day seemed to drag on and I was happy when the boss finally called knock off. All of my work mates wished me luck.

I had showered and jumped onto the scales, eighty kilos exactly. I had hardly eaten today and was starving. I needed to eat something to keep my energy levels up, so I ate and headed to the gym. I needed to spa a few rounds and talk to my trainer. The fight was being held in a local club and my trainer, Colin and I would go from the gym to the club.

Walking into the gym I found my trainer Colin talking to one of the other boxers. Colin spotted me and beckoned me over.

Colin was in his late thirties he was about 178 cm tall with a slim build. He had boxed himself as both an amateur as well as a professional. He boxed in the welter weight division and had held a national welter weight title. He is super fit and looked like he could still hold his own in the ring.

“Hi Bill, how are you feeling?” Colin asked.

“Pretty good” I replied.

“Good you will win tonight. You just need to use your reach advantage, and boxing skills and stay away from that right hand of his. Jump into the ring and I will spar with you.”

We sparred for a while, and I was feeling very confident.

Colin and I walked into the club, it was crowded and noisy, off to one end the ring was set up. We went into a room where I changed, sat, and waited. Collin taped my hands and fitted the gloves.

“How are you feeling now” Collin asked.

“Good.’ I replied

In actual fact I was now feeling jittery and wanted it to be over. The door to the dressing room opened and one of the club employees stepped in and told us it was time to go to the ring. We walked down toward the ring accompanied by cheers and booing. The crowed were very vocal.

I stepped into the ring and looked at my opponent, standing in the opposite corner. This is the first time I had laid eyes on him. He wasn’t as tall as me and he had a solid muscular body. We were called into the centre of the ring by the referee who told us what he expected from us. My opponent stared at me with a menacing glare which I found more amusing than threatening. The referee finished giving instructions and I went back to my corner. This was going to be a six-round fight.

The bell sounded for the start of round one and my opponent rushed out of his corner to meet me. He began wildly throwing punches forcing me to cover up and move back. I took all of his blows on my arms and was surprised at how hard he could hit. I moved back and stepped sideways to keep away from the ropes as my trainer had harped at me - don’t let him pin you against the ropes! I had to stay away from him and utilize my boxing skills. Round one ended and it was the longest three minutes I could remember. I spent the entire round trying to keep away from his constant barrage of heavy hits.

I sat on the stool and Colin started talking. “You need to box him! Use your reach and box him! You won’t win this fight running around the ring backwards with your hands in front of your face, use your boxing skills!”

I took in what he was telling me and nodded.

The bell rang I moved into the centre of the ring and was met by another barrage of blows.

I could make out a voice counting totally bewildered, I was trying to focus my thoughts.

I was surrounded by people talking to me then realising I was lying flat on my back on the canvas.

I had been knocked out.

Colin helped me back to my corner and I sat on the stool still totally dazed and confused. The referee announced my opponent the winner by knock out and held his hand up above his head.

My opponent came over and shook my hand. I sat there on the stool the noise of loud voices and the movement of people in the ring was still confusing. This wasn’t what I had envisioned.

But this is the reality of competition, you compete with the intention of winning but sometimes you lose.