Page 11 of Revive Me

My opponent tries to return a punch of his own, but I slide away, staying at the perfect distance where I can touch him but he can’t touch me. He quickly jumps back to regroup, frustration flaring in his eyes.

I throw out a jab, then another. When he retreats from my third one, he backs right into the cage. Which just puts him at the end of my kick range.

Grinning, I whip a vicious kick to his ribs.

Another wave of cheers from the crowd. When it dies down, the sound of the ringside commentators reaches my ears.

“Roman is really starting to light up the champ here early in the first round, Joe. I mean, we knew his striking was going to test Baker tonight, but wow. This is more impressive than I think anyone was expecting.”

Their praise only fuels the excitement in my veins. Biting down on my mouthpiece, I dart forward with another vicious combo.

Double jab, cross to the body, left hook to the head. Snaps his head to the right.

“The champ is in trouble, Joe! Roman just landed a hard left hand, and Baker is clearly wobbly right now. Could this be the end already? We’re only a minute thirty into the first round!”

Another combo. Another shot landed.

“This is the wildest championship fight we’ve seen all year! He’s making the champ look like an absolute amateur!”

I never stop attacking, never give him any space to breathe. I’m not searching for a knockout this early in the fight, but I’m damn sure going to pick him apart with my striking.

“He’s about to get desperate, Roman. Watch for that takedown!”

My coach’s instruction comes a second too late. By the time I read my opponent’s body language, he’s already ducking under my punch and shooting for my waist.

I drop my hips back, fighting the takedown. But he has too much space to drive me back, too much time to get me off balance. Before I can get my back against the cage, he’s pulling my legs out from under me and taking me to the mat.

“And the champ gets the takedown, just in time! What a turn of events, Joe.”

I manage to get my legs around my opponent’s waist, controlling his posture and minimizing the amount of damage he can do. He still tries, though. Even with me pulling his head down, he tries to throw out some punches to my ribs, my head, anywhere he can reach.

I’m able to block most of them. When he starts to move more wildly, I decide to take the risk of unlocking my legs from around his waist.

But only so I can throw one leg over his shoulder and re-lock them around his head and arm.

“Roman’s going for the triangle! And he’s got it locked! The champ is in trouble. This could be the end.”

Victory heats my chest when I feel how tight I have the submission locked. There’s no space around his neck, and with my hand pulling his head down, I have no doubt I can put him to sleep in the next ten seconds.

“Hold it, Roman,hold it!He wants to tap!!”

My coach’s scream only fuels my effort. Gritting my teeth, I squeeze my legs as hard as I possibly can.

I think I feel the champ’s hand flutter against my leg, the sign that he’s itching to tap out and end the fight. But before I feel the tell-tale pat, he somehow gathers his legs under his body and starts to stand.

“The champ is trying to stand up! This is insane. He might not even be able to get to his feet before he passes out. Clearly, this is his last remaining effort to fight what’s likely an imminent loss.”

I can hear him wheezing, looking for air he doesn’t have. Impossibly, I squeeze the submission harder, even as I feel him stumble to his feet. The movement lifts my hips off the mat.

“I think he’s going for the slam! He’s going to slam his way out of it! Is it going to lock the submission up tighter, or will it make Roman let go?!”

A sound like I’ve never heard before comes out of my opponent’s mouth as he gathers every remaining ounce of energy he has left to lift my body into the air.

He gets me higher than I expect him to. But it isn’t until I’m above his head that I start to question if I should let go and protect myself against the slam. Normally, I would just hold on, but?—

It happens in slow motion. One second, I have a submission locked up that I’m convinced is going to win me the fight I’ve spent my whole career working for. The next, I’m dropping from a height I’ve never been dropped from, my confidence wavering and my concern spiking.

Then I’m hitting the mat, 230 pounds coming down on top of me with who knows how much force behind it. And I feel asearingpain in my lower back.

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