Page 69 of Southie
“To your corners, gentlemen,” the referee shouted. “Save it for the fight.”
Gerald pushed me back to my corner. “What the fuck are you doing, man? Don’t let him get in your head, Southie. If you keep your head in the game, this is your fight to win.”
Gerald was right. I knew what Denning was trying to do. He was scared and trying to throw me off my game. I wouldn’t let him. This was my chance to make my dreams come true. This match would help me make it to the next level. Camilla was now a part of my life; this was the only thing that would make it complete.
“Gentlemen, are you ready?” the referee asked.
We nodded.
The bell rang, signaling the start of the first round. The sounds of the arena, the cameras flashing, and the faces in the crowd faded as I entered my zone. When in my zone, I focused on one thing—winning. Each time I fought, my movements and my opponents played out in slow motion. I became hyper-aware of my opponents’ movements and recorded them in my mind. The only person remaining in my sight was my opponent, so the only thing on my mind was beating Damian Denning.
This is it.
Everything played out like a slow-motion film as Damian and I exchanged blow after blow. He was by far the best fighter I’d ever faced, I’d give him that, but he wasn’t better than me.
He hit me in places no one had since I was in the streets of Southie brawling with the neighborhood kids or our rivals. It was a marvelous feeling. With each hit, I relished in the eventual pain that followed each blow. It reminded me I wasn’t untouchable even though I was the best. It reminded me of why I loved fighting, that I was alive. Nothing compared to the adrenaline rush that came with each hit, the punch thrown or the one taken.
With each round, the fight was close and there was no way I’d let it go to the judges.
“This is it, Southie,” Gerald gritted out. “No more pussyfooting around with this guy. Do not and I repeatdo notlet this go to the judges. You put him on his ass.”
He attended to the cut above my right eye that had a constant stream of blood dripping down into my eye.
I sat in my corner on the stool between rounds.
“How’s your vision?” After stopping the bleeding cut, he squirted water in my mouth from a plastic water bottle. I welcomed the cool water as it coated the inside of my mouth.
“I’m good. I’m ending it,” I said as Gerald squirted another blast of icy water into my mouth.
He pushed my mouthpiece back in. “Do it quick, Southie.” He wiped my shoulders, chest, and back of the blood and sweat that mingled on my body with a white towel. “Don’t let this drag on any longer, and stop opening yourself up to his body shots. You got the fucking reach, goddamn it! Start using it! Keep him on the outside!”
I nodded to Gerald.
The announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers, announcing the beginning of the fourth and final round. The bell rang, and we met at the center, circling one another. He was gassed, and I was close, but I had some left in the tank. Enough to put him on his ass. There was no way I’d lose this fight to him.
The shot he sent to my ribs sent a sharp, pulsing pain through my entire body. They were bruised or worse, cracked. I winced but recovered quickly, sending two jabs to his face, connecting with his nose and causing his head to snap back.
Blood poured down his face.
Broke his nose. That’s a plus for me. It will affect his breathing.
Our blood mingled on the mat, our gloves, and our bodies. We pressed our bodies against the ring’s black ropes as we both took the time to catch our breath.
“End it, Southie!” Gerald yelled from outside the ring.
With my body against the ropes, taking his body shots over and over, pain radiated throughout my body. One hard body shot to his kidney caused him to stumble back. Bouncing off the ropes, I threw a couple more body shots he dodged.
“Southpaw!” Gerald yelled.
When I switched to southpaw, two body shots to his ribs forced his hands to drop, leaving his head open.
Got you now, motherfucka.
The combination landed against the opposite side of his body then to his face, which sent him falling to the mat. The referee began the countdown, and the crowd joined in. Adrenaline rushed through me as the ref finally reached eight, and Damian remained on the mat.
Shit, I did it! I won.
I was brought back to reality by the sound of the bell ringing, announcing the end of the match. Gerald and Camilla jumped in the ring and ran toward me. The happiness of having her wrapped in my arms overwhelmed me. Despite the blood, the hugs and congratulations from the two closest people to me, while we celebrated my first semi-professional fight win in the middle of the ring on live television, meant the world to me. What her father or Paddy had to say about it didn’t concern me at the moment. The only thing that mattered was celebrating a major milestone in my life with the most important people.
