Stopped

Carlos picked me up to go to Brooks Park tonight.  We made it there right at 6:30 PM to weigh in.  Johnny, Jamil and Alan were already there.  The crowd was small, probably due to the snow coming down.  "There are more boxers here than spectators," Johnny commented.

Some of Barry's boys were there -- Kenny, Kevin and Marquis.  I was happy when Marquis got a win.  Kenny is very long and tall, and he used that to his advantage to get a win over his opponent. 

My fight with Meg was the fifth bout of the evening.  Johnny's fight was the seventh, and Carlos' was the tenth and last fight of the evening.  Jamil didn't get a fight; he worked the corner during our fights.

I walked into the washroom to change into my boxing clothes.  Meg walked out of a stall.  "This is awkward," she giggled nervously.  I didn't think it was.  "I'll see you out there," she said before rushing out.  Some boxers do build up a temporary animosity towards their opponents, but I don't do that.  Focusing on what moves I can use to the win is more productive than giving an opponent the evil eye.

The bell rang and Meg came out of her corner like a bull.  The combinations I planned to execute just fell by the wayside.  I took Alan's advice and threw more hooks than I usually do.  The hooks were focused on her body, but Meg worked her punches on my head.  I was worn out by the end of the first round.  The second round wasn't too better, even though I threw as many punches as I could.  Meg was scoring more because I have the annoying habit of not moving my head to avoid incoming punches.

I could hear Jamil encouraging me from the sidelines.  However, Alan's instructions during the rest periods got lost in the fog permeating my mind.  All I remember was him saying, "She's tired too.  Keep sucking air."  The referee asked me if I was okay at the end of the second round.  I nodded.

Meg continued her assault after the bell for the third round rang.  I was desperately trying to hang on, despite being popped in the eye, getting rocked a few times, and losing my balance.  The referee got in-between Meg and I and stopped the fight.  I rolled my eyes, sighed, and shuffled back to my corner.  "I would have given her a eight count," the referee told Alan.  After we were all out of the ring, Alan confessed that he gave the referee the high sign that the fight should be stopped.  There are a couple of ways a coach can do that.  One is to throw a towel in the ring.  The other is to stand on the apron of the ring while the fight is still in progress.  "Why?" I asked him.  "I didn't want you to get hurt," Alan said.  "I understand," I said, even though I would have rather lost on points.  However, that's what a good coach does.  They look out for their fighters.

Johnny lost his fight, too, and he was even more disappointed.  He hung in with the guy, an opponent whom Carlos had fought with during the Loyola Park boxing show back in September.  "Somebody's got to win in our group," Johnny said.

Carlos got fired up on his opponent beginning in the second round of his bout, and he never let up.  I was recording it using Carlos's camera.  Later, as he drove me home, Carlos said, "I can't believe I won."  But of all the guys currently in the Loyola Park gym, Carlos displays the most energy and stamina.  He can go for six, seven, eight rounds sparring.  Carlos said, "I won't fight again until I lose some weight.  I don't want to be knocked out by a heavyweight."

I feel the same way.  Besides not moving my head, my stamina is not as high as it should be, and I need to seriously lose weight.  The pounds have been creeping back up since the holiday season began.  I can't keep plodding around in the ring.  If I keep it up, someone is seriously going to knock my behind out.  It won't be a TKO like I took back during the summer when Ieisha clocked me.  I'll be laid out cold. 

Now there's another second place trophy sitting next to the other second place trophy I have.  I'm ticked because I know I could have done better.