It's pretty good! You're descriptions do a good job of painting a picture. One thing I'd watch for is comma usage. Some of your commas make the story kind of a rough read. That's just something you may want to think about in the future. Would you mind taking a look at mine?
The Fight
I can feel the lights bearing down on me. The noise of the crowd is a low rumble outside the walls of the cage that I’m locked in. My opponent stares across at me and I’m not afraid. Coldness has come over me. I can’t fail. She’s counting on me.
Living the dream.
My coach drove me to the venue where in a few hours I’d be locking myself in a cage with someone whose sole purpose for being there is to hurt me. It’s more fun than it sounds. I always have a hard time convincing myself of that come fight-day though.
Our first attempt at driving to the venue brought us to the place the promotion held the weigh-ins. It was a dive bar almost thirty minutes away from where we have to be. My coach told me as we started bolting to where we meant to go that he hadn’t slept in almost three days. Hearing that, well at least I stopped worrying about the fight.
When my insomniac coach and I made it to the show we were really late. The rules meeting was just about to start and I hadn’t even seen the pre-fight doctor or done anything I had to do yet. The rules meeting is where the referee goes over the rules and regulations for the fights. I personally despise these. That’s the point where I always start getting really nervous. It becomes real for me then. I’d been around the block for a while and already knew what was legal and illegal. I would not be going to the rules meeting.
I told my girlfriend and my sister I’d go out to dinner with them at this restaurant in the venue. The show’s held in a hotel and they set up in the ballroom. It’s not bad. I like it because it’s smaller which takes away some of the stress. I was the co-main event which meant that I wasn’t going to be fighting until second to last and I was happy to be able to kill some time away from everything. Nothing sucks more than waiting in the locker room for four hours.
Dinner wasn’t bad. I had to suppress the urge to gorge myself because I didn’t want to feel sick before the fight but at the same time I wanted to gorge because I was nervous. I was grateful to be with my girlfriend. We had only been going out for a couple of weeks but I already knew I was in love with her. As nervous as I was, being with her made everything better.
I got up to use the bathroom…I have a nervous bladder. As I was washing my hands I felt a familiar vibration coming from my pocket. I pulled out my phone and looked down to see that it was a message from my girlfriend. What it said made me want to cry. “No matter what happens tonight, no matter the outcome, know that I’ll be waiting for you.”
By nature, I’ve always been the kind of person to stand alone. While I pride myself on being strong and independent, I think part of that was because I’ve never felt like I had that unconditional support, not like what she gives me. Part of me never allowed it. I’d always keep people at arm’s length and retreat into myself. It was always easier that way. Knowing what I have now, I don’t know how I ever lived any other way.
Once I got back to our table, I slid into the booth next to my newfound love. Under the table, I felt her hand gently squeeze around mine. It was time to go. My coaches would be wondering where I was and I had to get back to prepare for what’s coming.
When we left, hand in hand, I leaned in to kiss her before we had to part.
She kissed me good luck.
I kissed her goodbye.
I’ve always felt there was finality to fighting. It’s nearly impossible for me to think of anything that could come after. There’s a deep-rooted, irrational part of me that feels like I’m never going to see my girlfriend, my family, my friends…no one ever again. That part of me thinks I’m going to die here. The fear’s illogical, but it’s there.
Marching back to the locker room made the reality of it set in. It’s a very surreal experience.
The crowd had already started to filter in and I spotted several of my friends who had come out to watch. Seeing them made me fall immediately into ‘fighter mode’. What I mean by that is that’s when I start to play the part of ‘fighter’. It’s about showmanship. I’m on the lowest end of the entertainment industry but in the industry regardless. The truth is that nobody is going to get excited about seeing me fight if I sound unsure of myself. If I let how I really feel rise to the surface. So I put on a show for them and it works. It’s not uncommon for fighters to do a character. You’ve got to give the people what they want.
When I reached the locker room my coaches were already getting one of our other fighters ready. My gym has about five other guys fighting on the card tonight. That means with myself included, six of the fourteen fights tonight will feature guys from my team. We’re well represented.
The locker room was flooded with people from my gym. There were probably close to twenty of us in all, and coupled with the other guys from the other gyms, it made for a very crowded locker room. For the most part, that’s not a bad thing, now’s not one of those times though. Anxiety grips me and I have to get out.
I snuck off to go to the bathroom.
The hours leading up to the fight never feel like hours. It goes by so fast because at that point all I want is more time.
After getting myself cleared by the doctor, I put on my gear and there was nothing left to do but wait. At this point, I swear I’d be willing to wait for days. This is the part of the fight game that sucks. People will say it’s the training that’s hard but that’s crap. The hard part is the waiting. Right now, all I want is to be away from this place and home with my girlfriend.
The National Anthem can be heard. The show started. I try to start calming myself, to clear my mind. My heart rate needs to slow down or I’ll be too weak from my adrenaline pumping too early.
Our first guy came out to compete and lost. When he came back to the locker room he looked like crap. His face was cut, bruised, and he showed clear signs of a concussion. He collapsed next to me and looked like he’d fall over in his chair. He took the fight on literally a day’s notice and it took a lot of courage to climb in there and fight under those circumstances. I had done the same thing a few months ago. It’s a hard thing to do.
I was proud of him but seeing him was hard. It’s hard to clear your head when a clear example of what could go wrong is sitting right next to you. The scared part of me wanted to ask him if he could go die somewhere else. Needless to say the part of me that’s his friend won that internal struggle and I just patted him on the back. I never quite know what to say to people when they lose. I myself like to be left alone yet at the same time I feel like I have to talk about it so it’s generally lose/lose.
As the night wore on, people started to gradually filter out. Before I knew it, I was on deck. I had done everything I could do to get myself mentally ready. I listened to relaxing music. I meditated. I did everything. The only thing that worked was looking at the last text message I had received.
“No matter what happens tonight
No matter the outcome
Know that I’ll be waiting for you.”
Reading her text gave me strength. No matter what doubts I had. I would not fail in front of her. That outcome was unacceptable.
I was ready.
My team gathered around me. Everyone gave me last-minute advice and inspirational words. None of it mattered. I was ready.
Though my entrance music was blaring, it sounded faint and distant.
In the cage I felt exposed, but I ignored it. They had started playing my opponents entrance music but it didn’t register with me. A familiar coldness, one that takes me before every fight, enveloped me. I welcomed it.
Something surprising happened.
It nearly knocked me to my back. Piercing through the cold a single thought emerged. It was a thought that I had been fighting with for some time, a thought that I allowed my fear to keep me from accepting. The thought was for my girlfriend, and it would be the last thought I’d have before the fight. It was three simple words.
I love you.
Reply
