Page 68 of Southie
“You got to get your head in the game, Southie,” Gerald gritted out as he walked in the locker room, pulling green flex wraps from his duffle bag. He dropped the bag on the floor, and the thud echoed in the empty locker room.
He started wrapping my hands.
“My head is in it, Gerald,” I said defensively even though I was lying. My mind was everywhere. Everywhere but where it should be…on this fight.
“No, the hell you don’t. You got Camilla on your mind and Paddy. Your girl is safe. She’s out there ringside with two of my buddies guarding her. No one is getting close to her unless she wants them to. And who fucking cares if Paddy hasn’t done anything? The point is, we know it’s coming, and we’re prepared. Stop stressing about shit you can’t change and let’s get this done first.”
“I’m trying, Gerald, but I’m worried about everything.”
“I know you are, but if you couldn’t focus on this fight and everything else you just should’ve passed on this.” He shook his head. “Look, man, I’ma keep it real with you. I’ve seen this boy in the ring, Southie. I’ve watched video and scoped him out at the gym. You can’t go into the ring and not have your head in it.” He stopped wrapping my hands and pointed to the door to the locker room. “You have to be all in or you’ll lose. This is your chance to get everything you want, man. We’ll take care of Paddy when this is all done and then you’ll be free.”
“You’re right.”
“I know I’m right.” He chuckled and finished wrapping my hands. “I’m always right. Let’s show these motherfuckas who you are.”
The sound of Dropkick Murphys’I’mShipping Up to Bostonreverberated through the surround sound speakers.
A young man wearing a headset entered the locker room. “Mr. Daugherty, it’s time to head to the ring.”
I nodded.
He exited.
“This is it,” I said, shaking out my arms and legs. “Fighting is my haven and, in the octagon, it’s my world. Fuck everyone else.”
“You got this, Southie,” Gerald said. “Show everyone who the fuck you are. It’s your world! It’s your world, baby!”
I nodded. Gerald pulled on my gloves and placed my green, white, and orange mouthpiece in my mouth.
We made our way toward the ring. The crowd screaming “Southie” sounded across the full arena. I knew some in the crowd were from the neighborhood, and I aimed to make them proud. Most of us from Southie came from nothing, so I wanted to show the world we were tough and could be more than thugs from the projects.
By far, this was the biggest crowd I’d ever fought in front of. There had to be around five thousand fans packed into the sold-out arena. The energy pulsated through my body like an electric shock, causing my skin to prickle and the hair to rise all over my body.
When I entered the arena, Gerald handed me my Irish flag that hadSouthiestitched across the center as he’d done every fight after my first one with the underground MMA circuit. I always presented my flag to the crowd to pay homage to my roots and my neighborhood. Without either, I wouldn’t be the person I was, no matter how good or bad that was.
I faced away from the ring, holding up the flag, and the crowd went crazy, screaming and chanting “Southie.” The crowd always made me feel like I was on top of the world.
I handed the flag back to Gerald, shook out my arms, and bounced from foot to foot, forcing the remaining anxiousness to melt away. Then, I made my way to the ring as the cameras flashed, and while the fans continued to scream, cheer, and shout. This was the life. I reveled in the atmosphere. The ring was my true home and the fans, my family.
I entered the ring wherePremier Boxingwas painted on the mat. I raised my gloved fists in the air before I faced my opponent, Damian Denning. He thought he had the right to lay his hands on my girl.
I smirked and gave him a wink. He sneered in response as his trainer whispered something in his ear.
I’m going to wipe the floor with his ass.
Damian Denning didn’t understand the hell he’d gotten himself into. He saw me as some white boy who’d taken the girl he’d been pining over for the past few months. The two weeks before the fight, he’d spouted off at the mouth about me and Camilla to anyone who’d listen. Camilla convinced me to stay away from the trash talk and use my anger in the ring. So, I remained silent. As hard as it was, I let him dig a deeper hole for himself. He didn’t understand the beast I’d unleash on him, and I savored his ignorance.
The electricity from the crowd flowed through me like a raging river, and all thoughts of the outside world faded away. I stood in the center of the ring, less than a foot away from Denning, calm as the referee laid out the ground rules for the two-minute, four-round fight. Damian continued to sneer and growl at me. As soon as the bell rang, he’d see I wasn’t the one to fuck with.
“Keep it above board gentlemen.”
We both nodded.
“Touch gloves,” the referee said.
Denning glared at me as we touched gloves. “White boy, after I fuck you up in this ring in front of the world, I’m gonna fuck Camilla. Have her screaming my name, begging me for more.”
“Fuck you, motherfucka!” I yelled and tried my best to get to him. The referee stopped me, and Gerald pulled me by the arm toward my corner.
