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The Trilogy Boxing Match: Millie Cuccio vs Carla Valenzuela

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Starring

Valenzuela (deleted member)

MillieBoxes

Valenzuela: Millie and I are now 1:1 in our boxing matches that take place in unlicensed venues. The situation is unacceptable to both of us, as we both feel the other’s win was a fluke, a statistical anomaly, and clearly a third fight is need for resolution of this important issue. Standard boxing rules have always applied in these fights, so there has never been a low blow, a punch to the back of the head, a knee, etc, but these fights are still rougher than regulated fights because they only end in a KO. The ref won’t call a TKO, and neither of us will throw in a towel and call it quits, so only a complete and devastating beatdown ends the fight. The first boxing match took place on the border, under the lights of a Texas fight club (https://venus.chatfighters.com/story/77633) and the more recent boxing match in my hometown in Mexico (https://venus.chatfighters.com/story/83881). And now the third and deciding fight, of who is the better boxer, will take place in Cuccio’s hometown of Chicago, at a boxing club on the Southside called the TEN ROUNDS BRAWLHOUSE. There is a boxing training centre on the first floor of an old building and they host unlicensed fights in their basement boxing ring.

Valenzuela: On the night of the fight, I walk through the training centre that is filled with wanna be tough guys and gals pounding heavy bags and speed bags, and get a lot of looks, stares and glares. Yeah, they know who I am, I’m the bitch that kicked their little Cuccio’s ass in Mexico. Soon this room will be empty as they go down to watch tonight’s fight, billed as a ten rounder, but I know I’ll have Cuccio out cold in the round 2 at the latest. I think she knows this too.

Valenzuela: Then down to the basement with my trainer to the changing room assigned to me. The basement smells like sweat, bleach, and old leather. The ceiling is low, the air dense, the crowd just a hundred strong but loud enough to shake the pipes. It’s fight night in Chicago, Millie Cuccio’s turf, and deep below her downtown boxing club, beneath the squeak of jump ropes and heavy bag thuds upstairs, the ring is lit like a stage. The audience is gonna be hostile here, I could feel it in the stares and glares I got above, but I don’t give a shit, it’s only me and Cuccio in the ring, and there ain’t no place to hide. Cuccio’s in deep shit the moment the bell rings!

Valenzuela: The locker room's dim light flickers slightly, cheap fluorescents in a room that smells of leather, sweat, and something else I can’t place. I drop my gym bag onto the wooden bench and peel off my hoodie, my breath steady, but my heart pounding just beneath the surface. My fingers tug down my jeans, step out of them, and slide into my fight shorts: green with red trim, my Mexican war colors. Tight at the hips, cut high enough for mobility, snug enough to remind me why I’m here. I pull off my t-shirt and unhook my bra, reaching for the one I always wear for fights, scarlet red, a little faded from so many wash cycles, but solid. I snap it on, adjust the straps, and look at myself in the mirror. I sit, bend forward, and lace up my white boxing boots. My coach walks in, old-school guy, who immediately cracks open the little tub of Vaseline, scoops a fingerful, and smears it across my cheekbones and nose.

Valenzuela: Then come the wraps. I hold out my hands. One by one, he wraps the gauze and tape around my knuckles, my wrists, winding it tight, giving me structure beneath the skin. I flex as he finishes each one. “Good?” he asks. I nod. “Perfect.”

Valenzuela: He opens the bag and pulls out my gloves, 8 oz white leather, worn but cleaned. They slide over my wrapped hands with that satisfying friction, then he tightens the laces, double-checks the fit, and tapes over them. I exhale through my nose, give my shoulders a roll, then start shadowboxing in front of the mirror as I wait for the knock on the door. Left jab. Right cross. Left hook. Foot shuffle. Pop-pop-pop.

MillieBoxes: I’d been so frustrated that I let my ego get in the way last fight. I was so sure and so ‘over’ confident, that I completely compromised what has always been my trademark; focused and aggressive pressure. And when I then also ‘played’ with you, you completely surprised me. And I never recovered. I’ve watched the video. My trainer since has been drilling in my head our fight plan… and it’s been a painful one. He’s had me training with much more experienced fighters, sparring without headgear, and making sure I focus on my speed, agility, AND that aggression. I cannot let myself get hit like that.

MillieBoxes: When the contract was signed and we agreed to fight near my southside home, what I thought would feel like a good decision faded. TBH, it has ended up as not really mattering. Being at home means a guaranteed hometown crowd. But, where my head is at, it could be at the south pole and I wouldn’t care. YOU are my only focus. YOU are the only reason I am fighting, training, pushing myself. YOU are my target, and anything less than complete destruction of YOU won’t be satisfying.

MillieBoxes: The night before the fight, normally I rest…. But not this time… no sparring that night, but a LOT of bag work and speed drills, footwork, shadowboxing. The sweat pouring off me. My trainer shocking me when he said to me that he was surprised I was so ‘motivated’. He told me to save some for the fight tonight. I pushed him away and barked I had plenty in the tank for this fight. And THAT is something I NEVER say or do…. I never bark at my trainer and I NEVER push him. But this fight has a tinge to it, a taste to it that has me roaring and burning inside. I remember moments in that second round where I was just getting punished. And there are moments that I don’t remember at all, being out on my feet. You never stopped until I was out cold. This time, if I have anything to say about it, and I DO, you will be the one on the punished end.

MillieBoxes: When we get to the training center, that familiar smell and aura is drenched throughout. This is where I started. There are a lot of friendlies (and not-so-friendlies) here. But, what’s shocking is when I get there, not one cheers, they all nod approval, or raise and point a glove. Shocked at the solidarity and suddenly emotional. Even one of my staunchest rivals walks up to me and says she’ll be there and…. In my corner. She asked my trainer if she could. She grabs her workout bag and follows me and him to my changing room. In the locker room itself, nothing’s changed. It’s smelly, dank, and oh how I love it. Maggie and my trainer sit with me.

MillieBoxes: “She’s here for one reason, to keep you focused. I know you don’t need ANY motivation, but she’s here to remind you of ONE thing; don’t lose your focus like you did in that last fight. Maggie then reminds me of our last fight, round 3, not my best round, and quite similar to OUR round 2. But, she reminded me also of round 4, maybe my best boxing moment locally ever here. I smiled wide for a moment remembering Maggie laid out. She smacked me lightly on the face as a joke and told me to shut it. We actually both giggled. “Don’t stop that focus. Don’t let her get in your head. I’M the only one living rent free in there.” We laugh LOUD from that one. But she’s right. As my trainer tapes me up, I feel the pulse in my hands. It’s coming close to fight time. I don’t shadow box, I don’t loosen up more. Done plenty of that already. I just look in the mirror as I sit. Tonight it’s either redemption or failure… and failure just got on the boat and left.

Valenzuela: A knock on the door, and I know its time, time to meet Millie for the third time in the ring. I put on my robe and then move towards the entrance to the basement boxing hall. “Ladies and gentlemen… THIS IS IT! the third and final battle in a rivalry between our own Millie Cuccio versus Carla Valenzuela, a rivalry that has become that’s become legend. Tonight, in the Ten Rounds BrawlHouse Boxing match, we go the distance or we go to sleep; no TKO, no towel, just a clean knockout or ten brutal rounds! With the score tied 1–1, tonight decides it all. Let’s finish this.”

Valenzuela: “Stepping into the ring first, fighting out of Mexico City, weighing in at 125 pounds, standing 5 feet 3 inches tall, being 32 years old, and bringing fire from every angle, she’s the pride of the underground boxing scene, a veteran with grit in her blood and knockout power in both fists, give it up for Carlotta “La Mexicana Boxeadora” Valenzuelaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!”

Valenzuela: After I’m announced, I take a deep breath, and walk down the aisle to the ring apron, I can feel some vibes from the crowd, politeness, yes, but it’s Millie’s crowd tonight.

Valenzuela: I let my robe slide off at the ring apron, my trainer catching it, and then enter the ring to be checked over by the ref, and then move towards the red corner to wait for the announcement of Millie.

Valenzuela: I can feel my heat beating as the audience watches me, and while I think about what’s going to happen shortly…..gloved fists flying.

MillieBoxes: I hear the barking of the announcer from behind the closed locker room doors. You've entered and when announced, as expected, the crowd is mixed, some cheers, some whistles, some boos, some bad bad words too. Welcome to Chicago. and then as if written down in script form.... *knock knock* ... 'It's time Millie' My trainer and Maggie follow me... I exit and come out.... all black; robe, boots, trunks, sports bra, and my signature pink boxing gloves. When I walk toward the ring apron, the roar is surprising. It's as if this is a chamionship fight. T cannot help smile as I walk toward the ring you are occupying. I slip through the ropes and right on queue.....

MillieBoxes: "... AAAANNNDD her opponent, the hometown girl in her hometown venue, weighing in at a lithe and deadly 110 pounds, at 5 feet 5 inches tall, the 20 year old, the pride of the southside, sculpted and bred to fight from within these walls and in this ring, MILLIE...... CCCUUUUUUUUUUCCIOOOOOOOO!!!!!"

MillieBoxes: I step out and let my robe slip off as I then raise my glove after a modest step up. I swat a few cursory lefts and rights and then lean into the blue corner pad. The ref gives me a look, Not my favorite ref here, kind of a dick as he checks my gloves for a bit longer than necessary. My trainer splits us. "Okay, Grif, she's not carryin' tonight." basically giving the ref a clear, "watch yourself" message. I again find myself smiling at all the championship vibes emanating from it all. The ref then calls us to center, and that smile... goes away..... the stoic, centered, focused fighter..... has arrived.

Valenzuela: I watch as my nemesis steps into the ring. She looks sharp, focused, and I know she’s out for blood tonight. She has every reason to be. After all, she took a humiliating beating in Round 2 last time. That kind of turnaround stings hard, especially for a boxer who dominated the opening round. Winning the first and then getting dismantled in the next? That eats at a fighter’s pride. I give her a slow, deliberate smirk, just enough to mess with her head. Let her stew in it. Then the ref calls us to the center of the ring and starts running through his instructions... blah blah blah. I’m not really listening and I doubt if Cuccio is either. He gestures for a glove tap. Whatever, fine. I stick my glove out, eyes locked on hers, daring her not to blink. He motions for us to return to our corners, so we slowly back away from each other, step by step, never breaking eye contact.

MillieBoxes: I don't hear a thing the ref is saying, I don't feel the buzz in the air, I only see you. And what I see is a fighter in front of me exuding confidence. Good, I can't wait to bust up that face. And the faux staring contest is amusing, as if me blinking would matter. All that matters is me putting you on the canvas. When you stick your gloves out, I tap but only a glanc as I just want to get back to my corner. The sooner I'm there, the sooner the first bell rings. Back in the corner, Maggie says two words, "It's time". She then retreats to her ring side seat. "Ok Mills, look. Maggie may be here for a reason as she's a reminder. Do NOT lose sight of who's the opponent. Just keep your focus and stick to the fight plan. You know what you have to do. Remember, No screwing around, no playing, no bullshit feet shuffle. You ain't Ali, you ain't Sugar Ray. You do shit like that again, you'll end up on the canvas again. You hear me?" I nod.... "Now, go kick her ass, you hear me?" we fist/glove bump as I hear the warning buzzer. "SECONDS OUT!" is barked from the ref. My mouthguard placed in. I bite down hard on it. I roll my neck and shoulders, get on my toes. "FIGHTERS READY!.... BELL!" It's on.... round 1

MillieBoxes: R1 3:00

Valenzuela: Even as I stand in my corner at this late stage, I am unconvinced on what strategy to use against Cuccio…..do I play it cautious then overwhelm her or just try to fuck her up bad the moment the bell rings. I’ve got a weight advantage, should I use it from the sound of the bell? I look at you, and I can sense that you expect to use your speed to control and dominate me, and then DING! DING!! DING!!!, it’s all theoretical. I have to move out of my corner, bouncing on my feet forming an orthodox stance and bobbing from side to side….moving out fast, intending to claim the ring centre for my own.

Valenzuela: I try to bait you by throwing out a quick left jab towards your head and then hold my glove out, pointing it at you, teasing you, baiting you…..

MillieBoxes: In my orthodox stance matching yours, matching movement and pace, focused on getting to center and staying there. And then you do something that in my view, is beyond foolish asif I'm going to be baited in the fight this early, or ever. Your tease doesn't phase me, but it does present an immediate opportunity. I step AT you instantly and feign as if going downstairs under the pointing jab. I shift my weight and move quickly right dropping that right shoulder hoping you'll think I took your bait. I step into the feign and the pocket, as if going for your left ribs, but mid throw, I shift my body and feet quick and look to bring the right, instead, straight up and look to crash it into your chin... "uuuush"... doubting you'd expect that so quickly in the fight.

MillieBoxes: R1 2:40

Valenzuela: I hear my trainer shouting out “Step clowning around Carla! Get Serious! Mio Dios!”…..I mirk at you and then suddenly you go for my bait, you drop your right and step in closer to me, so I ready my power right to drive it into your left eye socket. But just as I’m going to launch the right, your right flies up, instead of down and SMASHES into my chin/cheek on the left side of my face, the glove compressing hard on my face, snapping my head back…..and driving me back a couple of steps….I hate it when trainer is right, and I feel a little off at getting my antics knocked out of me….. ….

Valenzuela: but after blinking a few times, and reforming my guard, I step right and then come back at you with vengeance, trying to hook a left over your right shoulder trying to target your temple and then a left and right straight punch at your chin, trying to use my left to bust open your guard and my right to punish. (R1 2:30)

MillieBoxes: YAAAS! The immediate impact tremor goes up my arm and I see your face implode around my right. Your backpedal and your face tell the very satisfying story....but one punch does NOT make a fight and I need to follow and BE CAREFUL.... shfiting my head and body, moving with a quick and purposeful grace, I slip right as you try to counter over my right shoulder. With you taking a few steps back and that very enjoying blinkfest your eyes are doing, I have more than enough time to get my guard in place. Shifting my head back right under the extended left. You go for it with a right headed upstairs clearly looking to send a message, It misses completely. You get VERY greedy with the early flurry sending a 1-2. I come out of the crouch from your right upstairs. You pop that left jab and it only pops my right glove palm as I'm shifting and rolling with it. The right is a BIG mistake as your foot and body position telegraph it. The moment you release, I am shifting left and under, stepping into the pocket again. This time, my left IS coming downstairs to your wide open body. That liver is not going to be any more inviting.. I drive a left hook looking to obliterate your right side and hammer that liver... "uuuush!"... then immediately reload it and bring it upstairs to sweep a snap left hook to your cheek and jaw.... "yuuush" ...putting pressure and making you have to adjust to that pressure.

MillieBoxes: R1 2:20

Valenzuela: My right hook misses completely, and I go out of balance just a little as my right glove over extends. And then my left just pops into your glove palm, but I had hoped it would open your guard, no such luck. As I release my right for a straight punch at your mouth, you shift left and then under, and in a split second I realise my BIG mistake, as my right flank is wide open….so I tighten my core, and uggggg…..I take your pink left glove just over my liver…….it hurts but it’s not the killer shot you might have hopped for as my tight core helped. I’m kind of expecting a right, so it comes as I surprise when you load up the left again and hook it over my right shoulder, creaming my jaw and twisting my face to my left….ugggg……

Valenzuela: Coach is screaming…..”Dios Mio Carla!!!! Settle in, get in the groove!” I should pull back, but no way will I leave it at this, so I stand my ground after my face turns back around, get my gloves back in position, and try for a right hook towards your jaw, intending to slug it out with you….and then try to swing my left over your shoulder to go for your temple again! (R1 2:10) yt.

Valenzuela: "Carla !!!!!!!!!!!!STOP USING YOUR HEAD TO BLOCK PUNCHES!!!!!!!!!!" Trainer screams!

MillieBoxes: "THAT'S MY GIRL!" is what I hear from my corner.... and definitely NOT what I hear from your corner. You once again eat leather and this time I take a piece of your body with it. (mtc)

MillieBoxes: The impact tremors detonating on your head and body send shockwaves up my arms. My heart is pumping and I can feel it through my chest. The crowd already in a frenzy after the bell rings and the initial roar sounded, now is a sea of sounds, but I remain focused on YOU.... that sea of encouragement can go sour in a second. But what shocks me is you staying in the pocket. You want to go toe-to-toe and I smile wide at the fact you DON'T retreat. When your head recoils back, you swing for the fences. My left is in place and your right crashes into my forearm smacking it hard getting an "ooooh" from the crowd. It shifts my weight slightly as you put real power behind it, but that left is completely telegraphed. I step at you again and as it sweeps over....I shift and twist my torso turning it left as I look to drive a nasty right hook at your open left ribs and obliques... "usssh" ... and it's partnered left uppercut coming wanting to crash it into the base of your chin.... "yuuuush" I ain't here to play today.... Today.... I'm looking to wreck you.

MillieBoxes: R1 2:00

Valenzuela: It’s obvious to even the dumbest gringo in this Southside arena how this fight is going, and it’s obvious to me too, from both the bruising starting to develop on my cheek and from the roar of the crowd. So I have to shift the momentum, have to stop getting murdered on this bitches lightening fast counter punching. My attempt to brawl it out with you fails as my first hook gets blocked on your forearm…..and then my left hook sweeps over you…..

Valenzuela: My left side then gets pounded by a nasty right hook, just like a side of beef, and then before I can readapt, a left uppercut flies up towards my chin, but I avoided it by push backwards off my feet, moving back until my back hits the ropes,

allowing myself to stabilise. For a brief moment, my guard is down, but I quickly raise it, and move off to my right, avoiding toe to toe for the moment, as my brain engages and try to adapt my strategy to what’s going on, face now showing visible bruising.

Gloves now up, circling to my right. (R1 1:50)

MillieBoxes: My gloves continue to pummel you. I stay focused taking nothing for granted. When my right hook crashes into your left side, My left seems destined to crack into your chin, but.. "Nnnff" your gloves press into my clavicle pushing off and away from me, my punch stopping mid delivery. You hit the ropes and I reset, steadying my footing as you stabilize and reset, too... "Dammit" is all I can say in my head. As your gloves come up and you role off the ropes right. But I see it.... you don't LOOK good. Your face already showing the wear of my early gloved success. You continue to move right and I smile. "Running away, CHI-CA??" and then hear the bark from my trainer.... "SHUT UP AND BOX!"... immediately getting my focus back. Gloves up and I circle with you staring you down.... DARING you to get close again.

MillieBoxes: R1 1:40

Valenzuela: I can taste the fucking pink leather, it’s smashed my face in a few times now, and I can smell it in the air. That fucking pink glove just thudded into my ribs like a wrecking ball, and that uppercut would have lifted my head off if I did fall back. Your fast… faster than I remember, and too fucking fast to be playing games with. My cheek's throbbing, and fuck me, the crowd loved that exchange. My trainer’s yelling, pissed because I gave away the first minute clowning and baiting like I had all night to work. I circle right, gloves high, watching your eyes. The brawl isn’t working, so maybe try boxing….. Circling right now, gloves up tight, bruised but far from broken. I take a breath, try to settle the storm in my head, and then flick out a lazy jab, not at your head, but your shoulder, just trying to make you twitch, draw something out of you. I keep moving, light on my toes, and then dip just a little at the waist, faking like I might go to your ribs. I try to sell that low shot, knowing you might come in fast and hard to counter punch, but before that can happen, I suddenly plant off my right foot and try to pivot in hard, snapping up a short right uppercut, not to your chin, but right between your guard, looking to smash into your solar plexus and knock the wind out of you. And if I can get you to fold or flinch, I try to follow it fast with a left hook upstairs, aiming right for your jaw, trying to catch you wide as I swing back into my stance. R1 1:30

MillieBoxes: As the round plays out, the overwhelmingly crazy early action has 'frothed' the crowd. I see your marked up features and I dial into your facial expressions. You look like your trying to figure something out while also trying not to get hit (mtc)

MillieBoxes: Then you pop out this half-hearted pointless jab. I give it no attention even after it swats lightly at my shoulder. I continue to move with you as you then dip your shoulder. I know you can see my defense is ready and I can see the movement of your body clearly. You seem to be trying to trick me or trip me up. I'm simply not buying it. You're not going body. You continue to play around, clearly not sure what to do... meanwhile actually buying time to recover from the beating you've been taking, which is smart on your part. But....then I see the real move as you COMMIT to planting your right foot, not moving particularly 'stealthy' but deliberately. You suddenly try to pop a uppercut into my body. I close shop and both arms come together center court and your right pound my forearms... "nnnyuh" ...Showing you still have plenty of power left in the tank, the blow drives me back a bit...I don't see the left hook coming... ..."Gnnmf!" your left smacks into my jaw sending my head quickly left... spittle flies and shakes the sweat from my forehead. I stand my ground, but get my gloves up and shift slightly right. "Dammit Millie!" is what I hear.... I pivot out and move not wanting to give you any repeated success and get back on my toes... moving... your first connection is solid and reminds me NOT to fall into the trap of the previous fight. I again circle on my toes staying out of your fight zone and out of your power zone.... staying outside your left hand as I circle and weave. Gonna have to do better than that today.

MillieBoxes: R1 1:20

Valenzuela: When you did not come forward, I took the bait, your taunting pissing me off……and it pays off. The uppercut to the solar plexus gets blocked, but you don’t see that left hook coming and it nails the side of your face….HARD….and my reward is a spray of your warm spit back in my face.

Valenzuela: Nearly 2 minutes of boxing….and I land my first big shot of the night, owing to your footwork, blocking and weaving….but fuck yeah, it feels good. OH? Not wanna stay and go toe to toe? You pull back, and begin to circle, but fuck no, I ain’t having this. I lunge forward, confident I can damage you further, charging straight forward sending a left and right combo of straights at your chin, no way are you getting out of my range chiiiiiiicaaaaa….(R1 1:10)

MillieBoxes: When I circle and step back to reset, you foolishly pursue. What does this girl think? I'm some rank amateur? One thing I learned from the last fight... don't make it easy to accumulate punches... and to do that... move and weave. And then you do what a 'desperate' fighter does.... you lunge....trying to get back into the pocket with me and send a left and right going upstairs. The left pops my gloves, but the right....I swipe at it with my right arm looking to parry it down... "nnnhh" ... then immediately shift my feet and step at you coming right down main street with a straight left.... "UuuuusH" and the reloaded right... stepping into a right uppercut looking to split that guard and plant it at the base of your chin. Time for you to pay for trying to pressure me.

MillieBoxes: R1 1:00

Valenzuela: That fucking quick reset of yours—slick, smooth, and smug—makes me see red, and I go after you like a pissed-off bull. My jab taps leather, but I feel it the moment I overreach on the right… you read it easily and swipe it aside, and before I can tuck in, your left SLAMS into the center of my face, "GUHHH!" snapping my head back and popping a mist of sweat and spit into the air. And then… fuck me… that right uppercut. I see it a split second too late. THUNK

Valenzuela: It drills through my guard and detonates under my chin, rocking my jaw and sending a jolt down my spine. My boots actually slide a little on the canvas… I stagger back two steps, stunned, but not down. My arms instinctively rise, elbows tucked in, guard tight now as my back brushes the ropes. Fuck. You timed that perfectly. I bite down harder on my mouthguard, shake the stars loose, and push off the ropes to step left, eyes burning, then I weave low, and as I come back up, I move in towards you, trying to wrap my arms around you, hoping to clinch and force my weight onto you if I can move fast. (0:50)

MillieBoxes: The feeling as my gloves continue to explode into your face and jaw, only topped by the roar of the hometown crowd now chanting "MILLIE MILLIE MILLIE!!!". My heart is racing and my mid is focused and clear. I am feeling it.... and wanting to send more your way. The site of your face deforming from each blow, the taste of salt from the sweat you shed, is just icing on the cake as I know you're badly hurt.... faltering back.... your body looking as if it went jelly-like for a moment. But when you continue that backpedaling, I go right at you, pressuring you to make split second decisions with a cloudy mind. When you gloves come up, I'm right there as you push away from the ropes. You try to move away then.... give me a gift. You try to clinch opening your arms..... Not tonight ...CHI..CA... as I step into your guard before you can grasp and pop a nasty snap left-right uppercut combo looking to wreck your open chin...."pffft pfffft"... then step at you again and bring a left and right hook wanting to wreck your jawline and send you back into those ropes...."phsssh psssh" I aint playin games tonight.... I'm dishin out pain.

MillieBoxes: R1 0:40

Valenzuela: The crowd noise is deafening, and I can feel the vibration in my bones with every chant of your fucking name. “MILLIE! MILLIE!” For a split second, yeah, I’m jelly and my knees wobble, and I nearly fold into the ropes. I get my guard up, but you are too quick to let me trap you in a clinch, and as I throw my arms out you slip right in with those snapping uppercuts…..POW POW!!!!!!….detonating right under my chin, lifting my head. My mouthguard shifts, I taste blood. You step in again, hooks coming, aiming to erase my jawline. But I’ve had enough. I duck hard under your left, letting your glove swish past my hair, and jam my shoulder into your chest to attempt to break your rhythm. My left arm moves to snake under your right, tying to pull you tight into me. I also move my right glove to try and wrap around your back, trying to lock you down, stall the beating that my battered face has taken from those fucking fast pink gloves. . (R1 0:30)

MillieBoxes: The roar is deafening, the chant deafening, but when my uppercuts plow into your exposed chin....Mmmmmm ... that feeling up my arms is overwhelming.... the boxing tingle happens... But somehow you have a clear enough head to slip the left hook and drive your shoulder into me.... "nnnhh".. the right never unloads and I step back... before I know it... you've got your clinch.... You grab on tight and tie me up tight.... your breath fast and labored... you staining my skin with your crimson and sweat. I smile and lean into your ear.... "New night, new fight.... chi...ca" and plant my feet. You aren't moving me.... The crowd erupts in boos as they wanted action not your stall tactics....I let you struggle for a moment... then.... CLACK CLACK.... I hear the warning for the round to end, and continue to force you to expend energy.... I try to break free but only half heartedly.... I want you trying to use energy to keep me tied up....And... give me a little rest too as my gloves have been busy.

MillieBoxes: R1 0:20

Valenzuela: The warning claxon goes off......and its music to my ears....and I know I will make it to round 2 and not suffer a first round humiliation....and besides, I too you apart in round 2 of the last fight, and I know I can that again. Our bodies push into each other, and try my best to lean on you, grappling for position....and then try a couple of short choppy right hooks at your side. But then the ref orders a break....a fucking Chicago ref.....and I'm forced to let let go and try to get my gloves back up, I know the bell is gonna ring soon, but fuck it, it has not yet rung......R1 0:10

Valenzuela: Peak-a-boo guard

MillieBoxes: We tangle and the breathing, hot and quick, is a testament to the energy we've expended and our condition we're both in, but for the most part very different reasons..... we jostle and move.. "Nnnff nffff!" you pop my left side rib and oblique area from within.... I look to return the favor with a quick inside jolt into your belly button... "psssh"... then the ref seperates us and I see your face.. You hide behind your gloves but I know... you don't look so good. I get my gloves up and smile when.... DING!!!! The bell sounds ending round 1 and I smile shoving you as I go by with my left glove.... "Round 2's comin .... CHI... CA!" and I raise my glove at the crowd as they roar.... an instant mental boost. I sit in my corner and grab a bottle spitting out my mouthguard... Maggie comes from her seat... "Nice work!" My trainer gives her a look to sit her ass down... as if "You're purpose for being here is done." He gives me a look and says three words... "Remember last time".. knowing I'd be reminded of round 2 from the last fight... not tonight.... tonight.. I am ... simply put... ready. I get my face and arms, and shoulders wiped sweat free. and take a drink of cool water...I stare at you and see what's going on in your corner.

MillieBoxes: R1 0:00 - round 1 over

Valenzuela: I get another pop in the navel as the ref motions us back to fight. DING!....I hear the bell......sweet and sharp, music to my ears, like a lifeline tossed in rough seas......I give a little snarl as you shove me roughly aside to return to your corner……I would like to continue right here and now after that….but I need the break, the time to recover, just a little. I stumble back into my corner, half-guided, half-dragged by my trainer who grabs me by the arms and eases me down onto the stool. My ass hits the seat, but everything else is still vibrating......legs twitching with nerves, my ribs flaring with every breath, and my face......fuck, my face feels like it’s been worked over with a sledgehammer wrapped in pink leather. Did that ref check those gloves at all?

Valenzuela: My coach doesn't wait. He pulls my mouthguard out, leans in close, and growls through clenched teeth......"Carla, what the hell are you doing out there? You don’t clown with a girl who trains to hurt. You don’t bait someone who’s too damn focused to take it." He presses a thick glob of Vaseline into the swelling beneath my left eye......the cold end-swell follows, and I suck in air through my nose, sharp and stinging. That bruise is deep......it’s gonna bloom into a ripe purple mess, I can already feel it tightening.

Valenzuela: He dabs at the corner of my mouth where I know I’m bleeding......the cotton swab comes away pink and wet......and then he turns back to my cutman who’s wiping down my gloves with a soaked towel......probably trying to get Millie’s sweat and maybe some of my blood off the knuckle pads. I spit a mouthful of cold water into the bucket, and there it is again......that bitter, metallic tang of blood, riding high in my throat. "You gave away that round, chica......gave it away like it was hers by right," he mutters, not yelling anymore, but his words cut even sharper when they come low and full of judgment. "You wanna win this fight? Then box. Stop throwing haymakers. Stop trying to impress. You box your way back into this."

Valenzuela: Someone’s behind me, rubbing my shoulders with a towel, pressing an ice pack against my ribs......I grunt when they hit the spot just over my liver. Yeah......that’s where she nailed me. The muscle there still tight and spasming, still remembering the sting of her pink glove burying itself deep into my side. I nod, slowly at first, then firmer......trying to shake off the noise from the crowd......that endless chant of her name, echoing off the concrete like it’s bouncing around inside a drum......but I’ve blocked that out before. I’ve silenced louder crowds. I’ve taken worse beatings and come back swinging.

Valenzuela: My trainer leans in again, wipes under my nose, smears a final swipe of Vaseline, and stares at me like he’s trying to remind me who the fuck I am. "Breathe......reset......take control. This fight isn’t about who hits faster. It’s about who decides the rhythm. And you, Carla, you’re the one who makes rhythm when you fight smart. Round 2 is yours if you stop trying to look like a hero and start fighting like the champion you know you are." The stool is yanked out from under me. My feet plant themselves on the canvas and my legs steady under me. I roll my shoulders, lift my gloves, and sway just a bit......finding the rhythm he talked about, letting the weight of round one fall away with every deep breath.

Valenzuela: “Seconds out!” the ref barks, and the sound cuts through the din of the crowd. My mouthguard goes back in......I bite down hard, flexing my jaw, letting that coppery taste of blood settle into my gums like fuel......I lift my eyes across the ring. Millie looks sharp and fresh.....DING!

MillieBoxes: My trainer leans in as he hears the ref bark for him to leave the ring. He pops in my mouthguard and says two more words.... "Stay focused".... and then he slides through the ropes and grabs my stool as I stand and get on my toes. FWAP FWAP! are the sounds my gloves make when I smack them together. I bite down hard on my mouthguard. Then I hear it... DING!... the ref... "BOX!"... and the crowd... *roars*...Gloves up orthodox stance... round 2 is here...

MillieBoxes: R2 3:00

Valenzuela: And now what? The fucking bell has sounded and coach gave me zero advice that would be useful, “Start boxing”. What the fuck did he think I was doing? Last bout, I came out strong and fast, and took that little bitch by surprise, overwhelmed her. But this round is different, I’ve taken a much more intense beating in round 1, and she’s gonna be better prepared this time….so I move out of my corner slowly, stiffly…..gloves up in orthodox stance, no more fucking peak-a-boo…..You look fresh, and I absolutely hate the smug look on your face, but I’ve got true grit….as they say in the western movie….and that rough shove you gave me…babe, it's gonna cost you, cause I’m fuckin angry…. You’re fast, so very fast with those pink gloves, but all I’ll I need are a couple of crippling shots, and I’ll own ya. I bite down on my mouthpiece and step into range, meeting you in the ring centre, and then pivoting hard off my back foot as I snap a jab right at your gloves, trying to bait a response, my right shoulder's already loaded, and if your guard twitches toward the jab, I’ll twist into a vicious corkscrew right cross, driving it toward your solar plexus with every ounce fury that I have built up inside me, and I intend to follow that cross with a low left shovel hook, intending to try to drive my entire white gloved fist under your rib cage and pulverise that liver, a shot, if it lands, could put you down. (R2 2:50)

MillieBoxes: On my toes.... fresh... I see your face... oooooh, you're pissed. Good, anger is your foe. Anger leads to risks and forced errors.. I smile as I see you try to clash at center ring... "OH wanna go do we?" My trainer in the corner screams, "SHUT THE HELL UP AND BOX, DAMMIT!" And I smile as I get to center ring... You immediately push action. But that jab, I know is a ruse. No power to it and your feet and body tell me different too. You are trying to anticipate what I'll do. Well we can't have that. You have played the get your gloves up ruse before... so when you pop that jab, I slip it right and stay outside your guard..... your right shoulder's a tell, you're going downstairs... I skip step right and away from you and stay perimeter. So that right comes hard and fast and straight for my upper body... I plant, use my momentum forward and twist my torso and bring my right across my body attempting to use my forearm to pound it away from me. "usssh" It still pops my left arm at the bicep, which gives me no counter option at this point.

MillieBoxes: (mtc)

MillieBoxes: Your left comes sweeping at my side....so... my only option is.. I step right into you and take the power of your left away tucking in my elbows. It still connects to the back side of my forearm and elbow driving it a bit into me.... "Nnuh!" The power is significant and forces me left a bit as we are almost body-to-body. I drive my shoulder into you and take my gloves and look to try to push you back. I then reset and get on my toes... "Not today, CHI..CA!" I say with a nasty evil grin through my gummed lips. And I then snap a double left jab at your face to drive you back more. "psssh psssh".... no playtime today... today, you get a real boxing lesson.

MillieBoxes: R2 2:40

Valenzuela: I try to jab my left glove into your face, but you slip it to your right, outflanking me for te moment, so that my right glove strikes your left forearm, you twist like a work to avoid the strike, and your ribs are spared, and my left shovel hook does no better, again striking forearm, and not the liver shot that I needed to put you down on the fucking canvass. You jab out defensively, but I have enough reflexes left to step back from those jabs, and after the second jab, I step back at you, trying to swing a right hook over your left shoulder and turn your jaw into something mushy…..a real power shot and follow this with a left straight towards your nose, hoping to bust you up bad. My body is covered with sweat, and I feel a real sting in my eye as the purple bruise darkens further. (R2 2:30)

MillieBoxes: You are swinging for the fences and bringing all your energy... Your big right cross left a bruise on my elbow and that left coming for my liver still has a sting on my elbow too. not to mention slightly driving my elbow into my side... I stay tight to my guard, not attacking but defending and avoiding.... You seem to be throwing some technique out the window and certainly with these big shots trying to end me with one of 'em. My jabs do their job and show me where you're going next. You don't waste a moment but you load up and step into the pocket. You sweep a right hook and my gloves and forearms come up... You my left arm into my head.... my guard holding tight... "Mnnnn!" I take a step right from the hook. But you again load up big with the left. And NOW, you've done it...That left ain't going anywhere but straight... I shift my head and shoulders right and stay outside your left still. Ifeel the left graze my hair near my left ear, but I am mid shift and pivot as I bring my right coming for your ribs hard... "uuuush" then snap it quick back and bring a right hook coming for your left cheek and jawline... "Uuuush!" making sure to remind you, I am far from a novice... you surprised me last time.... now I read you like a book.

MillieBoxes: R2 2:20

Valenzuela: My right hook drives your forearm into your face, but that just ain’t gonna do it, no mam. My left straight goes over your left shoulder as you slip to your right, and you wisely stay out side my left, outflanking me. And its fuck…..uggggg….BAM! that right connects with my ribs, no way of avoiding it, even though I knew my left side was open….my left lowers a bit, because I need to protect my left side, and because I KNOW the left is gonna come next, but you reload the right and bring a big right hook into my jaw…..POW!!!!!!...it twists my face to my right, spit spraying, me biting down hard on my mouth guard

There is a temptation to pull back, but I decide to stand and bang, sending a left hook to counter punch at your jaw, and a right straight towards your solar plexus, twisting my hips to increase the power……wanting to use my heavier body to subdue and overcome your fast movements. (R2 2:10)

MillieBoxes: Oh It is flying now... The fight is in full swing....Oh the feeling of my gloves crashing into your ribs and the beauty of the right to your jaw. Your face implodes around the elbow..."YAAAS!" I scream in my head.... but... I am shocked. You seem to soak these blows and stand your position. "GNNNN" your left hook connects and sends my head sideways, causing me to step back.... But I plant and cover, turtling up for a moment... Your right comes fast and tries to break through. "Mmmn!" I eat the blow with both my forearms, driving me back. I slidestep left and continue to circle now as this round is at a blinding pace.... I smile a bit as I get my breathing settled... moving on my toes, shifting and weaving.... trying to break your patterns. "Cmon CHI... CA" I taunt. You're not having that success this time around. You can't just bully me and power your way tonight. I'm no fool. I dance and move but not playfully or foolishly.... I continue to move and weave away using my footwork... waving you in daring you to come at me... blinking a bit to chekc and make sure that left didn't have lasting effects.

MillieBoxes: R2 2:00

Valenzuela: My left hook connects, a good counter punch that lands solid on your jaw, but your still standing, sturdier than you look. My right gets nothing but forearm, and you are now moving, back and forth, trying to wear me out...your younger age and conditioning maybe giving you a stamina advantage, but not yet, its only round 2. I'm tired of watching you dance, and I just wanna go toe to toe, so I come at you suddenly, as you move right, I move left to cut you off....and then I step into the pocket, trying a quick jab to raise your guard, then a I reload the left, and try for brutal liver shot, a powerful shovel hook designed to come up under your rib cage.....R2 1:50

MillieBoxes: Oh you are fighting angry and frustrated. You get played again. You continue to chase and try to inflict damage. I see the look on your face. You once again lunge at me, and this time, you try to force action. Big mistake.... You eventually guess right and stop my movement, getting in the pocket. But you pop that jab at me with little effort. I stuffed them before, but this time I do not. I slip it and step left into and between your guard. The left was poorly thrown and when you reload it, I step AT you again and this time I drop my right shoulder and bring the glove and arm in tight...the shovel hook doesn't have the power you wanted when I step at you.... You can't extend it like you want... BUT... with me being center of you and inside your elbows now.... I smile and..... "Psssh psshs pshhh" I jackhammer a flurry of straight left-right-left coming directly for your face center mass...I know you are havign trouble seeing and picking up my movements, so I attempt to take advantage.

MillieBoxes: R2 1:40

Valenzuela: My jab does not get you to raise your guard, instead of hitting your gloves like I wanted, you slip the jab and my glove hits air, making me a shadow boxer.....that left slip then puts you inside my guard, and you step into me, so that my shovel hook looses all power, as you cut the distance.....and then suddenly you use my head like is a speed ball in the gym......a flurry of staights BAM!!!BAM!!!!!BAM!!!!!!..my head bobbing back with each punch

I know I can't take this, so I begin to fall back until my back crashes into the corner turn buckle where I try to get my guard up, feeling a little stunned from that combo of straight punches....my face now badly bruised...

MillieBoxes: Oh you eat the leather flurry and I get a big tingle up and down my spine watching your head go back like a speed bag. You backpedal and hit the corner pad, your gloves sink and look a bit blank. I don't waste a moment.... I skip step at you and step in the pocket... I snap a double left jab at your chin... "Psssh psssh" and then quickly feign the left jab, instead, I bring a vicious snap right uppercut coming for that open chin in your porous defenses wanting to split those elbows and crash it into the base of your chin. "uuush"

MillieBoxes: R2 1:20

Valenzuela: I'm a bit stunned after taking that combo of straights into my face.....like getting hit with three bricks....and then you follow me into the corner. You read it right, my gloves are now slow and sluggish....BAM!!!BAM!!!! a double jab hits my nose and starts a bleed....I raise my guard higher to protect from a jab, but it does not come, instead a right uppercut snaps between my guard....pounding into my chin....my knees wobble, and then I crash onto the canvass....I fall forward off my knees but stop my fall by pressing my gloves into the canvass.....I feel stunned, out gunned, humiliated....I hear the ref order you back....and then a count commences....

Valenzuela: I hear 8 and then slowly rise to my feet.....ref looks me over....but I say yes to everything....and then he waves us back together shouting "Fight!"

Valenzuela: R2 1:10

MillieBoxes: There are times when you simply don't have time to enjoy the 'fruits' of the labor. And this is one of them. My gloves and fight instincts/ muscle memory are sending my gloves faster than I can enjoy the result. You again eat the snapped nasty jabs. Your face forms around my leather. I cannot hold back the smile from my gummed lips when the uppercut hammers home and your knees buckle and you drop hard to the canvas, now on all fours....a good look for you. I raise my gloves and the crowd screeches and roars when you hit that canvas. I hear the ref start to bark the count... the crowd joins in.... "SIX.....SEVEN.... EIGHT...." as I see you struggle but you are up. The ref asks if you can continue and you nod yes.... When he waves us in and drops his hand "FIGHT!" I don't waste a moment and skip step at you and this time instead of doing the jab 'test' of your guard... I feign the jab, then try to drive my left shoulder into clavicle, "yyyush!" and get physical with you...Then quickly shift right, and drive my torso left as I bring the right looking for your left obliques "uuush"... then step in the pocket and look to crash my left and right hook into your jaw and cheek, "Psssh pssssh"

MillieBoxes: R2 1:00

Valenzuela: I feel really daized, my reflexes are down, but I know you are going to come at me hard and fast. I raise my guard as a jab is coming, but then it does not come, instead your left shoulder crashes into my collar bone, hurting as you get rough and dirty and driving me back a step. I raise my guard as you shift to my left, and drive yourtorso left to drive a hard right into my obliques.....ugggg....I fall for this hook line and sinker, my reflexes are down, and I then lower my left glove to protect my side, but get rewarded by a criss crossed left and right hook combo that SMASHES into my jaws on both sides....I bite on my mouth guard, and instinctively fire back a left hook hoping to hit the blurr of a boxer standing somewhere in front of me, as I stumble back into the ropes that stop me from collapsing, my knees buckling, I struggle to stay on my feet....R2 0:50

MillieBoxes: My gloves start to explode into your jaw, chin, and body at will. You clearly are guessing what's coming and guessing wrong... A A LOT. My right feels like it caves in your left side and your gloves drop instinctively, giving my gloves that green light that I was already hoping to take advantage. My hook combo deforms your facial features, the charge up my arm is intoxicating. As your feet start to fail you and your back pedal, you hit the ropes as you sweep a wild left hook that hits nothing. You are reeling.. When you hit the ropes, I am already there literally skipping at you. The moment you hit the ropes, your rubbery legs don't seem to be able to support you, and I launch a brutal combination wanting to punish you on those ropes.... I look to rip a left hook coming for your ribs "uuussh" near your liver and a quick combo'd right uppercut seeking your belly at your trunkline, "yusssh!" then snap a fast straight left and right coming for your wide open face and nose... "Psss psssh!" trapping you where you' "sort of" stand.

MillieBoxes: R2 0:40

Valenzuela: My back crashes into the ropes, and well, that's the only thing that keeps me standing, to be honest. Round 2 is turning out to be a worse round than round 1 was, and if this was a licensed fight, a ref would wave it over, declare a tko....but the contract says KO or submission.....and I'm still up and my trainer never throws in a towel. A left hook rips into my rib cage and I cry out in agony.....it goes through my mind that this is what I did to you in the last bout......that hook is near my liver and I feel a sick feeling as my organ bounces inside me....not a clean shot but....FUCK!!!!!!!! a fast right uppercut detonates in my untensed abs...bending me forward as that pink glove sinks deeply into my belly button...and then a straight left/right combo sends my head and body jerking backwards, propelling me up and into the ropes, gloves down....face banged to hell......I stagger here....dribble coming out of my mouth and onto my blood stained sports bra.....I start to raise my gloves a little...like I wanna box....but they barely move....

Valenzuela: R2 0:30

MillieBoxes: My gloves are wrecking you, taking you apart blow my blow. The ropes are now my deviant friend as they keep you up. "Gonna PUNISH you, CHI-CA!" The crowd is in a frenzy when you hit the ropes, severely hurt. I show no mercy seeing you slack jawed after stumbling back into them, I dart right at you, venom in my gloves, punishment on my mind, busting you up.... my only goal. I step in front of your groggy, punch drunk form... seeing your gloves slowly rise, before you can get them there... I sweep a hook flurry at your open jawline wanting to just rock you... left-right-left-right.... pffft pffft pffft pffft... then jack hammer and straight left right left right flurry at your face... phssh pshh psssh psssh.... "Gonna WRECK you girl!"...placing my left leg between yours and trapping you where you stand with no way out.

MillieBoxes: R2 0:20

Valenzuela: Final seconds, this is fucking it……this is how it ends……I'm still on my feet, but only because the ropes are holding me up like some drunk ghost that forgot it already died. Maybe the last thing I see is that fucking grin on this little bitch’s face, mercifully she’s just a blurr….if only she was not so fucking fast with those fists and defensive movements….My last punch hits nothing but some air….And now I see is a blur of pink….pink hooks whipping my face left, right, left, right…… and then as my back bends the ropes….the jammer of straights hit my nose, my eye, my mouth and then my chin……your gloves moving so fast that it’s like the air will catch on fire and turned pink….or wait it just the blur…

I feel you leg between mine…..but I begin to slide down the ropes….so badly beaten, a humiliation in this triology of fights….my head now resting on the lowest rope….knocked out by blurs of pink flying gloved fists…..

Valenzuela: R2 0:10

MillieBoxes: Your weight just balls up and slides down the ropes. You look completely out... I smile as I hear the when you helplessly melt to the canvas. I raise my gloves then stand next to you as the ref starts to bark...

MillieBoxes: "...ONE.."

MillieBoxes: "...TWO..."

MillieBoxes: ".... THREE..."

MillieBoxes: "...FOUR...."

MillieBoxes: The raucous crowd starts to join in.... "... FIVE..."

MillieBoxes: "....SIX..."

Valenzuela: I blink my eyes, stunned, and sprawled into the ropes......

MillieBoxes: "...SEVEN..."

Valenzuela: Moaning.....I hear the count.....I begin to move my head...I hear the crowd screaming....and I hear my trainer screaming his guts out...."GET ThE FUCK UP CARLA!" i begin to stir more....and sit up. My face aches, my head aches.....and my body aches....I sit up at the count of EIGHT.......and then get to my knees......place one knee in front of me.......and then at the count of NINE........

Valenzuela: DING! DING! DING!......but then rather than standing....I collapse forward, face down....kissing the cold, canvass, smelling the blood, sweat, tears and saliva of this fight and of many past boxing matches.....KNOCKED THE FUCK OUT!!!!!

MillieBoxes: The Ref.... as the bell rings... counts.... "TEN!!!!!" It's over. I jump in the air....my trainer enters the ring....We hug... I stare at you out cold in an awkward position. The crowd starts chanting... "MILLIE MILLIE MILLIE!!!!" I pump my fist in the air tasting the victory at home.

Valenzuela: I don't remember falling again… but I must have, because now I’m flat on the canvas, cheek to the mat, the taste of copper in my mouth, my sweat mixing with whatever fluids soaked into this floor over the years. For a long time, I don't hear anything. Then it rushes in—the roar of the crowd, the chant of her name, the stomp of boots around me. My corner’s at my side, my trainer crouched next to me, pressing an ice pack against my swollen face, muttering "You were still standing till the end, Carla… you never fucking quit." I don't reply. My lips don’t quite work. They strip the gloves from my aching hands, and my wrists are still wrapped in sweat-soaked gauze. I slump against the stool they drag out for me, eyes barely open. Someone hands me a towel, presses it to my split lip. The doc shines a light in my eye, and I wince, blinking blearily. I can just make out Millie across the ring, smiling, bouncing, breathing fast but proud.

Valenzuela: The ref brings her to center ring, and asks me to join them….for the final humiliation, her hands already ungloved, taped fists. "Ladies and Gentlemen… the winner by knockout at 2 minutes and 57 seconds of Round Two… fighting out of the blue corner…" “…MILLIE CUCCIO!” The crowd explodes and ref raises her tapped fist up, soaked in sweat and glory. I nod once. I lost. Fair and clean. And in front of her home crowd. I hate her even so.

MillieBoxes: When my hand is raised... I smile wide.... my team proud of all the hard work. It was a fight I needed to have and did.... I was humiliated in our last fight. I simply gave that back. Our fights have never made it out of the second round. It's as if we simply don't like each other. But, I can't just stand there.... when my hand is dropped, I turn to you... open my arms and smile sincerely at you seeing if you'll take the gesture. "You're a warrior girl." I say wondering if you'll take me up on the hug offer.

Valenzuela: I smirk, and i can't resist the offer of a hug, she didn't do anything i wasn't trying to do back...so i open my arms and accept the hug....ugggg...but the ribs do hurt!

MillieBoxes: I hug and ease into it... feeling you twitch from the pain... I lean into your ear and whisper... "I admire you V. " and then break the hug fest and leave with my team.

NEWSPAPER ARTICLE: SOUTH SIDE SMACKDOWN: Cuccio Flattens Valenzuela in Round 2 of Trilogy Decider

CHICAGO, IL — In a roaring basement beneath the Ten Rounds BrawlHouse boxing gym on Chicago’s South Side, hometown hero Millie Cuccio delivered a commanding performance Saturday night, knocking out Mexican veteran Carlotta “La Mexicana Boxeadora” Valenzuela in the second round of their long-anticipated trilogy bout.

Fighting under the unforgiving rules of unlicensed underground boxing, no TKO, no towel, only a full knockout or ten brutal rounds, Cuccio came out fast, sharp, and ferociously focused. From the opening bell, she controlled the pace, picked her shots with clinical precision, and left little doubt about who the better fighter was this night.

“I needed this one,” Cuccio said afterward, sweat-soaked and glowing in victory. “Last time she humiliated me. Tonight I reminded her, and everyone, who I really am.”

Valenzuela, known for her grit and comeback power, entered confident and swinging, but Cuccio's blistering counter-punching shut down her momentum at every turn. While the opening round saw Val trying to brawl, it was Millie’s lightning-fast hands and brutal body work that told the real story.

By the end of Round 1, Val’s face was visibly swollen, and her corner was pleading with her to stop clowning and start boxing. But it was too late to reverse the tide.

Cuccio landed an incredible 32 clean punches out of 54 thrown, a blistering 59% accuracy rate. Valenzuela, by contrast, struggled to connect with anything meaningful, landing just 7 of 35.

The Final Blow: With under a minute remaining in Round 2, Valenzuela—already bruised, dazed, and reeling from a knockdown earlier in the round, was pinned against the ropes, her legs rubbery, her guard half-raised.

Cuccio stepped in with venom “Left hook. Right hook. Left hook. Right hook. Then a fast jackhammer combo, straight left, straight right, straight left, straight right, snapping Val’s head left and right like a rag doll.”

The hometown crowd exploded as Valenzuela slid down the ropes in slow motion, her gloves limp, her body pooling at the base like a marionette with the strings cut. The referee counted to ten as Val lay motionless on the canvas, the final bell sounding at 2 minutes and 57 seconds of Round 2.

It was over. Millie raised her gloves high to a deafening chant of her name, while Valenzuela, dazed but gracious, sat up in her corner moments later, battered but still defiant. “Fair and clean,” Val said. “I lost. But I stood as long as I could.”

The final tally of their violent, emotionally charged trilogy? Millie Cuccio: 2 wins. Carla Valenzuela: 1 win. Respect earned.

Published: 2025-07-28, viewed 112 times.