THE SWEETEST SCIENCE

Inspiration can be a fickle companion. Lingering in the back of the mind, waiting for the right spark. Sometimes not to be seen for days, weeks or months. And then it would get hung up on a small bump. I'd been staring at blank canvas for a week when i found my bump. I'd sought it out actively, had gone to museums and exhibitions, because there was just something about History and the way it repeated itself that made my mind churn. I'd not expected to find my inspiration in the sports history museum. Finding it in the section about boxing, the sweet science, had been even more startling. But there it was. An historic photograph from the river flowing around Bilbao, Spain:

 

As soon as my eyes fell upon it, i knew i had to recreate it. The event itself, the people watching from above, all so i could sit alongside and paint it. It was going to be my magnum opus. And thus i'd made a few calls. A few turned into many and, before i knew it, i'd gotten involved in the revival of an historic boxing even in modern times. And, somehow, it went swimmingly. I'd sourced a few precious contacts, had the city of Bilbao and the Museum itself agree. Organized a boat and a ring, found equipment and, of course, two local participants. Two heavyweights, who'd agreed to fight and who would donate any money aquiered to a charity of the winners choice! It was perfect - until it wasn't. I'd gotten the phonecall a week before the event. One of the fighters had pulled out. Training injury, my ears had told me, but ruin was all that echoed through my mind. Hope to find a replacement had vanished quickly. 

Six days left - no chance.

Five days left - nobody willing.

Four days left - i'd been about to pull the plug. And then i phoned Mike. The other participant, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing on my end of the line. I'd explained the situation, my voice on the edge of breaking up. Had asked him for help, if he knew anybody who may be able to jump in - but no. I felt like falling, but some part of me, a small part in the back of my mind, was not ready to give up. I'd blurted the fatefull words before i could think twice: "Then i will be your opponent." And Mike, graciously, had agreed. 

Three days left - i took the flight from the London to Bilbao. 

Two days left - i'd gone around the city and glued the revised version of the flyer across every outdated version i could find. Only then did it feel real to me. Seeing my name scream back at me from wherever i turned my head? Oh god, what had i gotten myself into.

Zero days left - Bilbao was brimming with energy. People had collected along the museum, the river, had conquered rooftops and balconies just to catch a glimpse. And i sat nervously upon the small ferry ship that would take me out into the open, already dressed in my gear, the thunderous rush of my heartbeat blocking my hearing and making me feel dizzy while my eyes followed the movement of the other ferry, the one with my opponent upon it, slice through the meandering waters of the river towards our tiny colloseum.

Ever since I got first news of it, I thought that this was going to be a totally historic event. For me, reliving the old tradition of the fights in the river is a great honor, maybe the biggest in my career. When Rachel called me and asked me to participate, I humbly accepted guided by her enthusiasm and charm. In the days before the fight, trouble came, in the form of an unexpected injury that eliminated my opponent from the equation... until I got another call from Rachel, offering to fight me instead! I knew she is a very skilled boxer, but not a pro, and the bravery that her offer shows appalled me and I had no choice than to agree. "of course I will fight you, Rachel!" I said

As the date grew closer I kept on training. Focusing in my footwork and my combos, and knowing the younger and lighter Rachel will surely be a great opponent in the ring. The ring itself is set in the lfoating platform of the river... and finally the day of the fight comes. I have not met Rachel in person yet, we will see each other live first time when we meet for the initial face off... people are cheering, happy to witness this unusual boxing show...

Dressed in my black gear, I hear the crowd cheer as I am taken to the ring in a small ferry boat... music sounds as the speaker presents the fight, calling out the public to cheer and warming them up for our entrance... the small ferries reach the platform and we both climb into the ring at the same time... I take my place in my corner, leaning relaxed, as I await for the speaker to introduce us to the crowd...

Rachel 

Dear god, how hard can a heart thump before it bursts out of a chest? Because mine is threatening to do the very same just this moment. I've done many exhiliarating things. Every brushstroke makes my chest tighten in the risk of ruining the work of hours and hours. But this here, the shudder of utter excitement and anticipation as i feel the top rope slither down my back, this is different yet again. Visceral and very real compared to the abstract terror of potentially ruining a good piece. The sight of people looking and cheering from above, the air whispering over my skin and creak of the canvas beneath my white boots is so much more tangiable than any other sensation i've experienced in months.

Seeing Mike across from me, a veteran of the ring and, apparently, utterly comfortable in his own skin this very moment, does make me question my decision for a moment. Not that i could step back now - but don't we all indulge in futile daydreaming every now and then? Glancing down at myself, i'm feeling, and also looking, i might add, like the semi-experienced boxer compared to my adversary. I am equipped with basic boxing knowledge and skills but i'd hardly had time to prepare for this charity match, given the incredibly short notice. My outfit reflects the same. I'd bought it on a whim just yesterday, once i'd arrived in Bilbao. The gloves are fresh and squeaky clean. And so is the rest of me, in all earnesty.

But the time for pondering is finally and ultimately over when the voice of the appointed announcer rumors through speakers surrounding the ring. It bounces across the water, echoes of the rivers trenchwalls and creates a feeling as though we stand in a large arena more so than on a boat under the gleaming Spain sun. "Señoras y señores, niños y distinguidos invitados. Les doy la bienvenida a un evento que esta ciudad no ha celebrado en décadas. Se trata del renacimiento de una gran tradición, y debemos dar las gracias a la señorita Rachel Storms, no solo por haberlo hecho posible, sino también por participar en este evento, sustituyendo a otra persona en el último momento. Y así, sin más preámbulos, ¡les presento a la primera competidora de nuestro gran partido benéfico! Con una estatura de 175 cm y un peso de 81 libras, es la elegante organizadora, directora y, ahora, participante: ¡LA SEÑORITA RACHEL STORMS!"

As you enter the ring, you own it. Crowd simply goes crazy as they watch your fabulous look clad in yellow and white... you look like a damn million dollars, all curvy and spectacular. You do some shadowboxing and your skin shines at the hot sun from your previous warmup... I watch your strong frame as you do some moves, then stop as the speaker announces you... crowd goes crazy as you salute after he says your name... I can only applaud and smile when you salute... you are magnetic

and now it's my turn... "y en la otra esquina, con un peso de 105 kilos y una estatura de 182 cm... nuestro chico... el campeón del mundo de boxeo mixto invicto en tres defensaas...

MIIIIKE BOOOOOXXEEERRRRRRR" growls the speaker and the crowd erupts in applause... I lift my black gloves, new, shiny at the hot sun, smiling and saluting the happy crowd...

All the attention gathers in the corner opposite of me. There is, Mike, experienced spanish boxer, heavyweight mixed boxing champion, a true menace with his big black gloves. I knew all that beforehand, had i signed him up for this battle in the first place. But being aware of it as an organizer and hearing it as a reminder now that i am his opponent does make a massive difference. But time for rebutals and rebukes is over. I bounce gently on my white boots, the yellow laces bouncing and flashing, before we are called to the center by the referee. "Boxeadores, reuníos en el centro del ring!" The announcer echoes the demand, which i follow swiftly.

Thankfully i know the spiel, the rules and the makeup of this bout. So i don't listen exactly to the spanish sermon coming from the referee and instead look at my opponent. Mike is a good few years older, a bit taller and significantly heavier - and i'm not a small woman. Which i am especially happy about in this match up. My yellow mouthguard bulges my full lips outwards and i purse them with a fringe smile as we stand toe to toe and i look up at him while i hold out my yellow gloves.

"Este es un combate de exhibición a cuatro asaltos. Mantened los golpes por encima de la cintura, no quiero golpes bajos. ¡Escuchad mis órdenes y defendedos en todo momento! ¡Chocad los guantes y salid a boxear cuando suene la campana!"

My own mouthguard in place as I walk towards the center... fix my eyes on yours as the ref speaks... you look straight back... no flinching... your strong frame exudes an animal heat... we touch gloves... pfff... your strong arms flexed... I smile...

I nod... "good luck" I utter "and thank you for putting up this show... we will never forget it" I say, as our gloves separate... then I walk backwards, not turning my back on you as a show of respect... I stand on my corner, read for the bell to go...

My face splits into a beaming smile, though slightly distorted, thanks to my mouthguard. But your words flatter me and remind me that, win or loss, this isn't about winning but about a charity that gains and a city that comes together. With that thought strengthening my gait i walk back to my corner, suddenly feeling lots lighter than i did with the weight of the bout on my shoulders before.

And then i stand in my corner, you across the ring. Anticipation is thick in the air, both from us as well as the crowd. I thwap my gloves together just for good feel, it does remind that i am not just subject to your black gloves. And then...

I push out of my corner with measured steps. My gloves are up around my cheeks, a basic guarding stance that i settle into. It appears i'm an orthodox layout as i flick the first jab early on, my left leading the case even as it falls way short. Still, it feels good to be moving and punching even as i take a more passive approach by circling your bigger frame to my left.

As the bell rings, crowd erupts in yelling again... we both exit our corners... you put your guard up as I move to the center, leading with my left, since I am orthodos, right glued to my chin... you move in and out the distance in these first moments... you don't seem decided to open fire... I move closer and USH USH jab twice with my left aiming to your face testing your guard.

My punch falls short, yours don't. They smack into my yellow gloves and shake them, threatening to beat them back into my face. Your punches have some power, i can tell, but so far my guard holds up alright. I quickly return fire. Snapping another quick left jab back your way, up towards your nose. I am testing you as well, wanting to get a feel. Then i take a sharp step to my left and try to hook my left glove towards your ribs. "Nghh!" I grunt with the effort of twist my hips into the blow to get a little more power behind it.

MIKE 

uffff your jab slams my right glove hard as I mmove it to stop your punch... you move Nad UFFF slide a good punch into my ribs... I grunt... we are close and you sure pack some power... but so do i... and I love a close fight... before you jump back I try to USH fire a fast cross right aiming to your left cheek and then USh try to repeat with the same right glove trying to aim an upper right into your chin.

I land the first blow, but it will be one of many across these four rounds. And i don't just land, but you punch back quickly as well. A well aimed black cross and suddenly i feel how my head gets twisted. "Mmhhnn!" I mumble around my mouthguard as i take a stiff step back and instinctivly tighten my guard, which does stop your follow-up uppercut, eben though only barely so. The crowd above gives a round of applause, loving this first exchange. I try to walk the stiffness out of my legs, moving away from you and too my left while i jab my left at your chest, a thoughtful distance measure more so than an attempt at hurting you.

Crowd enjoys this first exchange... you hit hard and I do too... but this is just the beginnig... you UFF jab into my chest to keep me at distance as you step back and recover your footwork and guard... I put up my gloves again too... I move forward moving my shoulders, looking for the best way to do some harm... move closer fast USH I jab fast with my left aiming to your face and then USH try a right hook aiming to your gut.

You are not timid and i am quickly learning that i might need to slug it out with you if i want to come out the other side of these four rounds on my feet. Because, realistically, i can not hang with you in terms of skill. Considering, i make the decision to close the distance the moment your left jab finds my guard. My arms rattle as i dig my boots against the canvas and stop my backdrop. You have increased the pace to a brisk pick up and find the left side of my gut with your right hook. "Ppfffhhh!" The air flutters through my lips, but my right glove is already clenched tightly and traveling upwards, my uppercut aimed for your chin! And, because i can now really feel the weight behind your blows thrumming in my gut, i try to slam a left hook into your right eye coming off of the uppercut.

Even if my punches land you counter fast! UGHH your right smacks my chin hard jerking my face and then UGGH your left slams my right eye... it starts throbbing after your slick punch... you are not afraid of a hard exchange... love it... lower my head and move fast and USH fire a cracking left hook aiming to your ribs and then pivot and throw USH a hard upper right looks for your chin.

You avoid my upper but don't step back... you move forward and UGH UGHH your double right slams my ribs hard... hurts... soak it... I am well trained... and you sure are an opponent for which I cannot be prepared... but I can manage... but in the instant you prepare your jab with that step back I recover my guard I can paw your left jab out or its way with my own left glove, leaving you open for a moment and USH I step forward and fire an upper right aiming to your chin.

We have been having quite the aggressive back and forth this very first round. There is no punches held back, we are truly boxing this out. Which is why i am careful not to overcommit. I attack, then shift back. Attack, drop back here again, but this time you paw my jab out of the way. I am left open but as you step in, you try for another uppercut. I've seen it come twice this round already and i am starting to see the sign as your powerful shoulder bulges to swing the blow. I lean back JUST enough for another hairs-width miss of your shiny black glove past my chin. And then i seek to punish you for your aggressive and uppercut-heavy approach. My left glove hooks around, yellow leather trying to clutter into your right eye once more before i go to your gut with a hard right uppercut, aiming just above your black trunks!

You move well and evade my move expertly... then counter hard and fast... you show me a lesson fro trusting my upper cut so much... then UGH you hit my throbbing left eye again, stings... asnd then you UFFFF come hard with a brutal right hook aimed to my gut... soak it even if I feel some air exiting my lungs... we are still close and I try to counter USH firing a fast left cross punch aiming to your left eyesocket... and then try to aim a good right hook into your gut to pay you back.

There's a loud gasp coming from the ranks as i show that i do have some skill to bring to this, evading your uppercut and nailing your right eye again. I am landing good hits but not really getting to you yet, your thick skull and toned body soaking up good amounts of damage. And this time around i'd dedicated my weight to the uppercut, slugging you nicely but leaving me no escape route. Your black glove fills my field of vision as you batter the cross into my left eye, making my head snap back and sweat spray up into the sky. "NNHH!" I grunt, only to take your hook to the ribs as i stagger a step. "Uuhhh!" Those two hits landed solidly and i am feeling it, my stance wobbly for just a moment before my legs firm back up under me. I try to fight a little smarter now, faking a left jab up towards your puckering right eyesocket, hoping that's enough to draw your guard up so i can beat two hard right hooks under your ribs! "Huuhh...hhnnn!"

As my gloves land, you feel them... we are really putting up a good show... you recover well... you throw a jab that I harmlessly slams my forehead as I lower my head... even if your hooks hit my side hard... breathing a bit harder now... but I answer USH throwing my own left hook trying to hit your liver area USH and then mmove my shoulder like preparing another of my right uppercuts hoping that you fall for it and throwing USH a hard right hook into your gut again.

We trade punches openly now and you come out victorious the other side of this exchange. Not only did you batter my liver area with that hook, making me gurgle for air, but i bite on your feint. Believing there is another uppercut on track, i lean back, giving you my gut for free. "Uughhh!" There's some spittle splattering onto the canvas between our boots coming off of my lips as i lurch forwards! Every breath i take feels labored and i still step in, pushing myself up to you for a clinch before you can gain too much momentum. I hug against your sweaty body, my chin pressed to your left shoulder while i look to slow this fight down now.

You fall for the faint and you really feel the body punches right now... you UFF collide in a clinch pushing me hard backwards as our sweaty bodies meet, and you hold my arms with yours... crowd cheers, best action they have seen in years... I hold, not stepping back, hearing your hard breath as you hold me... try to release my right arm to bop your side again... you are strong... seconds pass as we struggle... I regain my breath too... ref comes and separates us... BOX he yells... I put up my gloves again.

You get a few short hits in during the clinch but nothing that really matters. Instead we share some sweat and a few breaths before the referee steps in, eagerly pulling us apart. The rythmic rush of blood is back in my ears as adrenaline is high this first round and i come at you with surprising aggressiveness out of the clinch! My left is loaded with vitriol and i try to bury a low left hook in your ribs before i try my own uppercut again, a big right hand i try to slam into your chin for good measure, ripping the punch your way a couple of moments before the bell.

I put my guard up again... you move fast forward trying to do another good combo... I grunt UFHHH as your left hook slams my ribs... but as you step forward your upper is stopped in my guard harmlessly... as we prepare for another exchange DING DING bell sounds... round one ends an people goes crazy! I take one step back, relaxing my arms... then lift them smiling saluting the crowd with a YEAH... then extend my right glove towards you before gong to my corner to freshen up... smiling... "great fight so far Rachel" I say.

I smile as the bell rings, my whole body relaxing. I hadn't even realised how tense i had been, always on the lookout for one of your hefty blows. But now i can catch a break and my wind and prepare for round 2. I tap my yellow glove to yours, then stride to my corner, gloves lifted into the air. In spirit of the historic bouts, we kept things simple. There is no corner person, we need to take care of ourselves. And, so far, that is easy enough. I squirt some water into my mouth and across my face, then settle my mouthguard back in and roll out my shoulders with my gloves gripping the top rope. Meanwhile, the speakers chirp up again. "¡Menudo primer asalto! Gran actuación de ambos contendientes, ¡pero Storm se lleva este asalto por un estrecho margen, 10-9!"

MIKE 

I go to my corner and freshen up... the speaker announces what I already know, that you are ahead on points... but it is alright, we gathered a lot of money and that was the important thing! you are revealing not only as a caring person, organizing all this from scratch, but a brave and skilled boxer! you are awesome in every way... that is what I am thinking as I sip some water... my left eye throbs but not swollen yet... I turn towards the opposite corner... do some shadow boxing as I look at you, all glorious in yellow and whitte... put my mouthguard back on... and the ref checks on us and signals to the judges... then DING DING round 2 begins with the crowd yelling and encouraging us both to go on giving a good show!

I feel the cool water trickle down my dark skin, some of it seeping into my white sports bra. It's already starting soaking up some sweat, threatening to turn translucent with time, but for now the barrier remains see-through. I bang my own gloves together, hardly listening to the points of the round, though it does feel nice to be awarded the victress. It is a small, personal victory, but it is the money that matters most. Yet, i can not deny feeling a little pride at hanging with the experienced boxer Mike!

At the toll of the bell, the roundbreaks designed short to keep the crowds attention, i am back out of my corner. The spanish sun is coming down hot and i wonder how my bigger opponent is handling the heat combined with the short roundbreaks. But, for now, i focus on me. Guard up, gloves close, i take the center of the ring and lead my attack with my left jab, once up to your face before feinting a second to the body.

This fight is turning up so great! Rachel is a great opponent and I am thinking about some strategy to compensate her advantage at points... I meet her in the center, head low, covering my sides with my elbows... sweaty, but OK so far, even with the sun soaking us with its heat... I move forward letting your first jab slam my forehead wit a harmless THUD... then you come for my body and I twist my body a bit and your second jab hits my arms...

crowd is yelling loud... we are close again, like we stayed all the first round... I circle to my left throwing a doubel left jab USH USH aiiming to your face to test your defense

You seem to be coping fine with the heat and the weather, but then it has only been one round. I hope to see you gas out some towards the fourth, if at all, but first i'll have to make it there. You are moving now to fade out my punches and smack your black gloves into my yellow mits again, your jabs not quite enough to pierce my guard. I stand my ground, not willing to trade flat out with you, but eager to stick somewhat close. I snap a right jab, this one threatening your bruised left eye, trying to force your hand into guarding your face, then take a sliding step right and "HUUH!" hurl a right hook towards your ribs.

You are a clever boxer! you are moving against my eye again! I knew you would! as my jabs slam your gloves I prepare... your right jab ufff slams my left glove against my eye and I can feel your strength behind it! you then move fast to my left and before I can cover UGH your hook slams my side again... starting to hurt but I am ok... you feel like not wanting to exchange some blows again... but I want to... I wanna give a good show... so I stand close and lower my head a bit adn USH try to hit your ribs with my own rigth hook then step forward getting even closer and try to USH aim to your face with a cross punch.

My glove lands with a WHUP and you step back, unharmed, but more aware now... you circle, expertly, your legs move fast and slick... then you jump forward again! your jab UFFF slides through my high guard and slams my body again... soak it... then your cross aims to my nose but my guard holds and whapppp it hits my gloves leather against leather... I lean forward and step to my left and USH aim a hard left hook into your side hopping to slow you down a bit if it lands and keeping myself close to compensate your superior speed.

I land my jab but your big body soaks it up. You seem more concerned about blocking my punches to your head this round, something i take critical note of. Meanwhile, you manage to hit that hard left hook to my side and i "ouuughh!" I groan as you keep landing heavy blows to my body! You stick close now but, for once, i don't mind. I actually lean into it, meeting your body with mine. It is not quite a clinch, just our fronts meeting before i try to sneak a quick left hook towards your liver area - the fight slowing down some.

We both know we want to stand the four rounds... I am indeed blocking more, knowing you are at least my equal in skill... I know you will try to shut my left eye closed to give you an advantage... so far I am managing to keep you from that... now we are close... trying to do some infigthing in the closest distance... you almost lean over me and then you UFFF slide a hard hook into my liver area... hurts... it's a good punch... I keep my guard covering and my head low, almost against your shoulder, as we stand together, moving less... I USH USH aim a hard and fast left hook-right hook combo aiming to your gut trying to take some air off your lungs.

Yeah, neither of us wants to go down early but that is a definite risk between two heavyweights like us. One good punch leading into one hard combination... But, for now, we go toe to toe and batter each others body. I get your side, close to your liver. You fire back, your left hook slamming into my reddened gut. "Ughhhg...!" I turn into the right hook, taking it on my elbow and use the power of your blow to break from you. This might be the chance i'd been waiting for and i shift like i try to go for your eye again! But it is a fake, hoping you are too worried about your vision to see through it aa i instead try to slam my yellow leather mitt right into your chin from below, then follow it up with a left hook towards your jawline.

My hooks slam your gut... you soak them and move so fast! as I try to cover my hurt eye from your faint I totally UGHH eat your chin punch and then WHUP your left slams my jaw UGH sending drops of sweat flying...you are amazing and the crowd erupts in yays and applause as you exit that almost clinch and take control of the fight! I cover myself keeping me close and shake my head... those were great punches... I jab twice USH USH with my left, to keep you with your guard up and at the right distance, not too far, not too close... my right glued to my chin looking for a good chance to pay you back.

There it is. I get a clean connection, one you were not ready for. You cover up, not coming forward for what feels like the first time all bout and i can not help but feel my confidence and pride surge. The applause and shouts of encouragement do only propell me to keep coming after you. Your measured, defensive jabs come my way and the first one keeps me at a distance. But then i take a trick from your very own book, meeting your second jab early to swat it away, hoping that will leave you open enough for my right hook to actually come over the top of your left arm and find your left eyesocket again!

You are sure a great boxer! you are trying to catch an old dog with his own tricks... wise... slick... but as you swat my left hook I am prepared for your move... I duck as fast as I can and your hook only punches the air... and as your arm is still ahead I USH try to slide a good right hook of mine aimed right into your spleen area trying to sstop you on your tracks.

As my glove hits your body your stance changes completely and the crowd yells even louder... your grunt sounds loud and you whince in pain... you immediately pass to the defensive mode covering your body and face and putting a step between us as you jab to my face trying to keep me away... I move forward, lowering my well covered chin and letting your jab slam my forehead wthout harm... I get closer and USH USH fire a left hook-right hook combo aiming to your sides trying to keep you in defense and push you towards the ropes.

Whatever momentum i'd gathered mid round is gone now as you push me backwards. It is a combination of your raw presence and the punches, your hooks rocking my arms instead of my sides, but still forcing me backwards as i try to weather your storm of black leathery fists! I am sweating heavier now, my body taking more and more abuse. My gut is vividly reddened, so are my ribs. That punch to my spleen robbed my air and i am panting a little and feel the ropes closer behind me than i'd like them to be! I finally throw caution to the wind though, hoping that a sudden offensive burst to close out the round might catch you by surprise. And so i try to nail your liver with another hook, wanting to pin you for just a moment as i try a sneaky step to my right, trying to open the angle up for my quick right cross to find your left eye.

MIKE 

You don't lack bravery, that is for sure! even after beeing pushed toward the ropes you come back hard! I am close, preparing another move and you throw a hard UGHH hook into my liver that echoes with a oud THUD... then you try to hit my eye again but my left glove is on the right place and catches your cross... before the bell rings I try a fast straight right USH aimed to your face trying to hit your nose... and then DING DING... round 2 finished and people erupts into yells and yays again... I am panting now as I lover my arms... ref points to the corners... I look into your eyes smiling again... "wow... what a round!" I say extending my right glove again.

I go into this last trade with a lot of heart and it pays off - somewhat. I nail your side, working your body some more, but your eye does remain elusive to my gloves. Instead you snipe a crisp counter straight into my face, through my guard and flatten my nose. "Nghh!" I grunt, my head rocking back across the ropes. My eyes well and water and i'd have been in some trouble if not for the bell calling for the end of round 2! I take a deep breath and tap my gloves to yours, then feel up my nose. No blood yet, lucky me! Before i walk back to my corner for the round break after another hard fought and very competitive round!

We tap gloves again and I smile as the crowd applaude, yell and shout... I go to my corner, dry my sweat and sip some water... feel my eye with my glove, it is throbbing but not swollen yet... my body feels the effects of your punches, but in the whole, I am standing well and ready for more action... I turn to you, watching you prepare for the next round of this awesome fight... I feel alright, nothing beats facing a worthy opponent, a woman who knows her boxing well and fights clean, brave and smart, and I am proud to be providiing a good show for our charity match. Two rounds left. I am decided to maje the most out of them. The cause deserves it, the crowd deserve it, we both deserve it, specially you who put all this together and then took the brave step of putting yourself in the line of my punches when my opponent could not fight. I take another sip of water to compansate the heat of the sun... taking it well so far, trained these last weeks in the proper condition for that, in the hot Seville sun. Now, as the thir round is about to begin, I pound my gloves together PSH PSH... ready to face you again!

Oh, what a feeling it is to stand in the ring with my beating heart and burning lung. The moment the bell clangs i smile a wide smile, despite the bruises and reddening painting my dark skin. Droplets of sweat trickle down my skin and turn to rivulets along the creases of my body. My body might as well be steaming under the scorching Bilbao sun, but i am smiling as i head back through my corner and i am still smiling at the announcement. "El segundo asalto es otro clásico instantáneo, pero nuestro chico local, Mike, ha vuelto a imponerse. ¡La leyenda se lleva el segundo asalto por 10-9 a su favor!" It is not good news as round 1 and i knew it ahead of time. You'd done so well, defended that eye and really given me some tough glove love. My body shows the same, specially around my rib section and across the front of my core, but a tap of my yellow glove against my left cheek confirms the heat of swelling across my pretty features too. I am leaning heavily against the corner padding and now the sun is really beating down upon me. Unlike my opponent, i'd not had time to prepare to this hot enviroment and the UK doesn't beat one down as visciously with its heat. My breathing begins to even but my whole body seems to be glistening with sweat. My attire is starting to stick, both the trunks and the sports bra now looking glued to my frame with the white fabric of the sports bra turning more towards transluscent and letting the dark shadows of my breasts hint through from beneath.

I am sweating profusely... my previous training in Sevilla is helping because heat is really killer now... but I feel well, despite the punishemnt to my body and the throbbing left eye... though this is a charity fight, it is still a fight, and we are not pulling any punches! the fight is very even and the audience is enjoying it... and so am I! as the bell is about to ring I get up, roll my shoulders, and put my gloves up, ready to go on... been a long time since I had such an amazing opponent in a fight and I am thrilled! the bell rings DING DING and crowd yellls... ref calls us to the center of the ring shouting BOX!

I look around myself. The roaring crowd up on the rivers banks, the stone walls overseeing the river, even bridges cast across it - it's an exhiliarating sight! And so is what i see across the ring from me. You've given me a hell of a fight so far, Mike, and it's only been two rounds! There is two more to go and i am sweating profously. My bruised ribs ache as i heave myself back upright, seeing the referee step forth to start the bout again soon and i am giddy to get going. I slap my gloves together, a mix of adrenaline, spirit and will keeping me on my feet as the Bilbao sun is now beating down on me mercilessly. I swipe my right glove across my forehead, leaving the leather glistening, before i bring my gloves up at the bell! The crowd gives a loud cheer as i step forward with decisiveness. I have come to realise that, perhaps, i might not make it all four rounds. Not with the exhaustion setting into my bones and the scorching heat. Instead i throw myself at you as the aggressor. A quick left jab prods your defense. I am not expecting to hit you, i just want to keep you busy. My boots bounce across the canvas as i shift to my right and immediatly threaten your puckering left eye again. I fake the right hook, pull my arm down instead and hope to find a gap between your forearms to shoot my right glove through, uppercutting at your chin! It's aggressive indeed, considering i've been hanging back and trying to get smart exchanges these first two rounds, but i am hoping that my sudden initative will catch you by surprise.

I lift my gloves as the bell rings and step forward... I know you probably will go on boxing smart and avoid getting too close and entering a slugfest... but all of a sudden you come at me hard! ... as you jab slams my guard I can feel its strength... you then fake a hook to my eye and as i lift my left glove to protect it your right comes like a flash and UGH slams my chin hard jerking my head backwards as drops of sweat fly... I take one step back and shake my head... I soak the punch well but your move has been flashingly fast! Regroup and put my guard up again and USH USH jab with my left aiming to your face keeping myself in the distance.

The change of pace has been working wonders. A little aggression, a little misdirection and i can feel my glove slam home. That felt fucking amazing. And seeing you stagger, even just a singular step? It gives me chills. It feels like the first time i've forced this big foe of mine to give space and the thrill of dominating the dynamic so visceraly makes me ache for more. The drive really kicks in and i follow your retreating form as you begin to toss your defensive jabs. The first thuds into my guarding gloves, expecting the return fire. The second i meet early on with my own glove, my right mitt swiping your jab to the left of me to give me space and an angle to work with. It's the trick out of your book again, as i step to the outside of your left arm and push into a right cross i try to score over your left arm and to your left eye - now truly going for it. I follow it up by twisting my body inwards and loading my left hook towards the front of your body to where i suspect your solax plexus to be.

MIKE 

The step back lets me regroup... my jabs are only destined to set the right distance... you swap them easily and you go for my eye but I lean forward and your glove UFF slams my forehead instead of my eye... drops of sweat fly again... you then load a hard hook aiming to my body but my right elbow catches it even if I feel the power behind it... as we are close I try to USH slide a left hook aimed to your gut hoping to catch you good and stop your rythm.

The surprise wears off quickly and you once more prove to be the experienced premiere boxer you had been promised to be to the crowd. A lean into the cross lets it slam into your forehead, a quick shift of your elbow and both of my hefty hits have been fended off with little to no damage and effort while you've also carved yourself out a chance for a counter. Up close, your wheelhouse once more, you try to drill my gut the same i tried to cave in your chest just before and i am just quick enough to bring in my own right elbow. "Ough!" The brunt force blow still is uncomfortable, forcing me a step back and to regroup. Whatever advantage i'd had is gone, you are back to composed with your stallwart defense and i need to rethink my approach. I start circling you to my left, feeling more composed even though there is droplets of sweat rolling all over my dark skin.

MIKE 

The punch did its job... to stop your moves and make you step back, regrouping... now you are less confident and you know it is dangerous to be close to me... and even that way you are looking for that... I can tell... your fighting spirit wants it... I know it... you put your guard up... your body glistening with sweat as you circle to my left looking to be in the way to my hurt eye... I move facing you... step forward, leaging with my left a bit low, almost inviting you to try something from that side... my eyes fixed on yours and my right glued to my chin... crowd yells MAS MAS MAS because they are having a blast... so am I... I move forward and mmove my left shoulder like I am about th throw my left jab but instead I try to move forward fast and a bit to my right to get closer and USH try to hit your ribs with a fast right hook and keep you close.

I keep circling as you advance, once more feeling like the inevitable and unstoppable force with mighty black gloves. The shouting crowd once more gives me the impression of a colloseum, only that ours is floating and the shouting and chanting echoes off the stone walls encasing the river. I notice the hanging left glove, something my coach had told me can be a habit of tardy boxers - but you're not one of those. You are big, strong and sharp, your defensive skills strong as your offense. There's NO WAY you've simply forgotten how to guard, which leads me to surmise that you are inviting me to hunt your eye again. As a certain admiral from a far, far away galaxy once said so pointedly: "IT'S A TRAP!" I keep on my toes and this time see through the feint, keeping my guard tucked and tight. Your right cuts inside and so does my counter. Your glove batters into my left arm, my hook tries to find the point of your chin as you come in with a certain aggression. Not wanting to stay close regardless, i shift back and try to stiffle YOUR rythm with a quick left jab towards your nose as well.

MIKE 

You are a smart boxer and of course you don't bite the bait... you cover your body well with your arm and counter fast UGHH hits my chin hard... but as you dont want to stay too close you move back a little jabbing at my face... your jab slams my right glove harmlessly... though the sun is taking its toll I am still feeling OK... sweating all over though... but I step forward not letting you go too far, I want you close... no faint this time... I move closer head low and USH fire a left hook aimed to your ribs and then USH a right hook aiming to your gut again trying to make your legs slower.

You box smart and box hard - and you can take a whole damn beating. We have been battling each other for a good amount now and you don't seem to slow down. I, on the other hand, am feeling the weight of your hits, no matter if i block them or take them. I feel the sun, the heat, the exhaustion. You are in my face, have been for all of this bout and finally my lack of training does make a difference. Your left hook i manage to block, but barely. I am too keen on protecting my bruised and reddened ribs but that leaves your follow up to slip through. "GGUUUHH!" I gurgle as your big black glove finds soft and tender belly flesh. I never had a battle hardened body to begin with but after two rounds of repeated punishment from your gloves and wear and tear from the sun and exhaustion, it's been softened up even more. Your glove sinks in deep, my hips hitch back as you fold me over your glove. Droplets of sweat are flung off my head onto your arm and chest as i latch onto you. My arms come around yours, trying to yank you into a sweaty clinch as that punch just took my air and almost my legs out from under me.

I can feel that you FELT the hook! I can hear your gasp as your air escapes your lungs... the punch really rattled you as your body folds over my glove... but you are smart and even in trouble and you come closer and look for a clinch, you need a break no doubt... you are panting now as you hold me, your strong arms trapping mine as you push backwards... you are strong... our sweaty bodies collide as the crowd gasps and yells in equal parts... this is a grueling fight for both of us... I won't deny I welcome a break too... I know the ref won't let us stay this way too long so I struggle pushing back as I feel your full firm rounded breasts mashing against my chest... our hearts pounding... my head rests on your shoulder for a moment and as I am trying to set my arms free ref comes over BREAK! BREAK! he yells... he separates us... as I step back, I regroup... heart pounding and dripping sweat but SO ready to go on... we are totally even but I am eager to see how you manage to soak this last body punch.

Yeah, i felt that punch. And the outcome could've been way worse still than what it ended up being. If i hadn't managed to cling onto you, you'd have had a good chance at open hunting season. Instead i find myself chest to chest with this big boxer, our sweaty bodies glued together due to my doing, saving myself into yet ANOTHER clinch. A million thoughts swirl through my head, from the pain in my belly all the way to acting on redemption. I am tempting to chop short shots into your sides while i can, but i save the energy and breath, which you'd just beaten out of me anyways. You seem content as well to wait until the referee breaks us apart and when he does, i am glad for it. Not because i am feeling ready, but because i came here to fight, not to hug it out. And so i bring my gloves back up, take a couple of breaths and ready myself. I am a big girl, i can handle a punch - although i am not so sure how i'd so after two of those blows. And so my maxime is obvious. I need to protect my body at all costs, which is easier said than done. But, for now, i make sure to leave the clinch and take a couple of quick steps to get away from the looming ropes as the bout is restarted. I am back to my more timid style of boxing again and try for two defensive left jabs, one towards your head, the other trying for your chest, just keeping you at a distance if i can.

You are back in the fight... if you had not clinched you would have been in dire trouble... you are dancing again, maybe a bit slower... but you are back in the fight and the crowd is yelling again... my gloves are high covering my chin and your jabs pff pff slam them harmlessly... you want to stay at that distance... too bad I don't... I love close fights... I move forward, head low, getting in the distance and throwing USH a left hook aiming to your gut again hoping you are very protective with that zone and keep your guard a bit low and following fast with USH a right cross aimed to your left eye trying to get you in trouble and keep you in defense mode.

I try to keep a distance but there is only so much i can do when you don't respect my jabs because you don't have to. They don't do nothing but slow you down a little and that is imensely frustrating. If you want to get close, there is nothing i can do but accept my fate and box close or step back and give up space. I am not sure what to do, boxing up close has worked so far, but i am also slowing down and tiring and you...well, not as far as i can tell. You just keep on coming, your engine running red hot as you sling a hook towards my body, that i am a little too keen on protecting. It's a rookie mistake, probably, to drop my guard. But i am also so damn tired and sluggish feeling and so i don't notice my mistake or rectify it before it is too late. The hook is blocked but black leather fills my vision as your cross takes the opening i have given. "NGHH!" You slam a powerful blow into my head, nailing my left eyesocket with precision. My skull snaps back, sweat flying once again as you subdue me to the might of your powerful hands. My legs, those thick trunks supporting my sturdy frame, stiffen up like stilts and i stagger around on. I am dazed, dumbfounded and turtle up behind my gloves as a sense of dread overwhelms my confidence with a wave of panic!

My glove lands and has the desired effect... as drops of sweat fly from your face as my glove smacks your eye, you reel back, almost touching the ropes...you are covering and shielded behind your gloves, on total defense move, stepping back and your feet seem to be glued to the canvas... I move forward keeping the pressure on you, even though I am feeling tired too, I am in a very better condition than you right now... round is getting close to its end but I am not holding anything back... no boxer should ever hold back when the opponent shows signs of weakeness... so I move ... move forward to get to close distance again and USH USH fire a left hook-right hook combo, fast and hard, trying to slam your sides and weaken you even more.

This round is tough. I started great, could not capitalize and now am subjected to the might and skill of the boxer across from me. The audience seems to be brimming with excitement as this is the first time all bout that neither of us had an answer for the other and, unfortunately for me, i am the fighter who currently has no answer to the problem across from her. It feels troublesome to just sit back and wait but that is all i have the mind to do. My guard has reset, but is now torn between defending my body and my head and so i tuck my chin down as far as i can to cover as much of my body as possible. I have little space left to go and you force me back into the ropes with your vicious hook combination. The first i barely evade with a step back, but that's the moment the ropes catch me. There is no getting out of the way of your right hook and it slams home behind my left arm. "FFHHUU-" i grunt violently, spittle flung off of my lips as i am battered along the ropes. They dig into my sweaty back, my feet stumble along as you herd me towards the corner. I am getting desperate at this point and do what any cornered animal does - i lash out. It's not a concious decision or i would haveprobably kept sitting back. It's instinct that kicks in and makes me tear a big right uppercut up towards your chin, trying for some sort of violent payback, as ill-adviced as it may be.

As my glove lands I feel you reeling back... I have you trapped in the corner as the crowd yells ... even hurt and tired you got some steam left and you lash out a perfect upper that UGHH slams my chin hard jerking my head upwards... I blink my eyes as i regain my position... solid punch... but I don't reel back... I must keep you here, where your speed has no effect... I move forward almost bullyng int you and USH try to aim another right hook into your gut to nail you to the cornerpads a bit more and then DING DING DING the bell rings ending the third round and ref jumps forward separating me from you STOP! GO TO YOUR CORNER! he yells... he checks on you as the crowd goes crazy after this disputed round... I step backwards but not turning back, my eyes fixed on you to see how you are looking.

I am surprised to rattle you with another uppercut, but then again it's one of the few effective blows i landed all round and you eat it like all the others. It does not slow you down as you push me back, pin me into the corner padding and return the favor though you have taken a definitive liking to battering my body whereas your head has been my target of choice. "UUURRRHHHH!" Another gurgled moan slips free as your glove digs through my flesh in your best attempt to reshape the cornerpadding by beating my body against it. The ring seems to shake but perhaps it is only my hurt body that produces this visually impaired sight as i lean onto you once more. My body is surrendering to the hefty impacts of your punches, but the bell saves me from any worse of a beating. As you are stopped by the referee and step back, i almost slump to the canvas, but i barely remain standing, though with some obvious aid by the corner pads and ropes, which i cling onto with my yellow gloves. My body is nowly deeply bruised, with a hefty purplish swelling growing around my left side and the center of my belly. I drop one glove, touching the hot spot, but quickly pull back with a wince, my body deeply tenderized as i drag myself back to my corner on wobbly legs.

I see you are holding on to the ropes, panting, and feeling your wounded side with your glove as you walk to your corner... you seem really tired and hurt by this last round action. I go to my corner, sweating profusely and panting after that last rush of action when I trapped you in the corner... I sit and sip some water, but it is hard to slow my breath... now I am feeling the heat... soaked in sweat, and blinking, a bit stunned by that last sharp uppercut you nailed me with... but I am feeling well... you are atough opponent and I am loving this fight, I am honored to be fighting someone as brave and skilled as you... and I am ready for the final round.

After that last round, i am not feeling so well. My head is still pretty much clear, although that right cross definetly rung something deep in my skull, but it is my body that is troublesome. There's bruises painted across the width of my midsection, sparing just the white sports bra spanning my large breasts, but it feels as though your gloves have feasted on every centimeter of skin from the brim of my top to the top of my trunks. I try not to think about it too much, just sipping my water and leaning my head back against the padding. All the while the sun is beating down upon me as bad as you were just now. And then, just to hammer the message home, the announce comes in. "¡Ya hemos completado otra ronda, solo queda una más! ¡Y esta ha vuelto a ser para el glorioso Mike! ¡Ha conseguido remontar después de que Miss Storms se llevara la primera ronda! ¡Es el último asalto... y puede pasar cualquier cosa!" I shake out my arms, feeling the burn of lactic acid from all the exertion. My gloves are feeling heavy but i hoist them up nonetheless as the referee steps towards mid ring "BOX!"

The speaker announces round 3 is mine... that helps me to regain most of my strength after a hard round, had to put it all to really get to trap you in the corner... and even with that, that latest punch really rocked me! I shake my head one last tiime to clear the cobwebs... I am tired, but the last round is coming... I owe you and this audience to give it all in this fight... so as you get up, I get up too... you get your gloves up and so do I as the crowd erupts in applause... this is it... the last round... I am ready... as the bell rings and the ref shouts BOX I walk towards you... covered in sweat... tired... but no other place in this world I would love to be more than HERE right now... this is the best kind of fight... a toe to toe fight with an opponent who really can stand and dish punishment and fights clear and bravely... So I lift my black gloves, again, and walk to meet you in the center of the ring... my eyes fixed on yours... as you get closer I USH USH welcome you with a double left jab aimed to your face... and so it begins!!

The round if applause from the crowd does give me the energy to actually step out from within my corner and meet my adversary instead of shriveling in my corner at the thought of another round ahead of me. No, i meet you with my head held high, though figurativly more so than literally. My gloves are hanging a bit lower than they had coming into this bout, curtesy of the body battering you've introduced me to. You take the fight to me once more to start the round, two jabs that thunder into my guard, which i have to lift to contend with your punches. My guard isn't as sturdy as it used to be, my gloves getting pushed into my face, but i don't let that deter myself. I haven't hid myself all bout and i won't start now. So i counter and go right back to your head. Screw your body, i missed my chance to give it a good working over. I start head hunting instead with a combination so excrutiatingly simple it might actually work: a hefty left hook-right hook combination i try to beat into your jawline from either side.

You stop my jabs though I can feel your guard is a bit less tight than before... but probably so is mine... we have been dancing for some time now... in the heat of the sun... but we are fighters... and we are far from beaten down... you try a fast and solid combo and your flashing left UGH catches me in the jaw smacking my face well because my guard is a lot slower now... as the right UGHH slams my jaw again drops of sweat fly... those are good punches... gotta answer... we are still close and so I keep, I lean low and I USH fire a hard right hook aimed to your battered left side again trying to force you to lower your arms a bit.

I am surprised that my simple attempt worked out so well, considering how sluggish i feel at this point. It is as though i need to drag myself through every step and punch and yet i just landed two hefty blows to your head. The effect is immediate and visceral on display with sweat flying and spit spritzing. But your jaw isn't glass, you hang in and stand your ground, forcing your favorite position. Toe to toe we go again and since my guard is anything but quick, your chopping right hook makes quick work of my side. "OUUHHH!!!!" I feel the quaking of my body as you batter my bruised side. My body shakes and shudders and i need to fight the urge to convulse, keeping my body somewhat straight as i decide to bang it out with you. There is no more flashiness or speed behind my punches, just the weight of me throwing my big body into a left hook to your body before i try to come over the top of your left shoulder with a wide right hook. I don't care if i catch your chin, cheek or swollen eye, i just want to rattle your head at this point, if i can.

You are so brave! you are clearly accusing my body blows, I van tell as you grunt loud when my glove lands once again... you stand it like a true champ and stand close, not going anywhere, maybe because you are too tired to run, or maybe you know our destiny is to simply face each other and fight until the end or until one of us falls... you are definitely giving it all... and so I must do... so I face you and UGHHH get hit hard in my body... hurts... but as your wide right comes I lean forward and duck under it and then twist my body and USH fire a hard upper right aiming to your chin trying to really stun you this time.

One of us had to make a mistake at some point. And of course i could only get away with wild, sweeping, headhunting hammers for so long. You are too good to take such a punch from an opponent so slow and tired, plain and simple. It's a good move that leaves the crowd in awe before they scream and chant in support as your big black glove crunches into my chin. "MNGGHNnmnHhg!" I moan, then mumble as the mitt beats my jaw shut and tears my head backwards. I'd done a good job of evading your uppercut in the first round, had used it to punish you, but now, 3 and a half rounds in, there is no more pretending that i am but outclassed. Sweat and blood go flying up into the air while i stagger backwards, my gloves coming up instinctivly as i try to keep my legs beneath my center of gravity.

You are clearly in trouble after my glove simply takes the fight off you in an instant... a mistake, true... and a fighter always takes these kind of chances... the thud of my punch sealed the audiences mouths shut and now a silence reigns around us... my heart pumps in my ears as you stumble back, visibly in trouble I start moving forward... then the ref rapidly places himself between us... holds me back and looks at you closely holding your gloves... I take some steps towards the neutral corner, as the rules say... crowd is expectand, silent... ref holds your gloves and starts counting... 1... 2...

The world seems to be spinning around me as blood rushes through my ears, drowning out any noise otherwise present. I vaguely spot the figure in front of me and expect more hurtful leather, but a moment of focus and i find the referee between your bigger frame and i. I am not mad about the breather, yet i am feeling a little humiliated at the thought of having to be saved. It feels like pity and i seeth the feeling of somebody protecting me from the battle i signed up for. I grunt. I shake my head to clear the cobwebs. It is stubburn and stupid, but i lift my gloves despite the pain and daze and lock my eyes with the referee. "3....." He goes on and i bring my gloves a little higher "4..." I bat my gloves together and nod firmly. "Estoy bueno! Quiero continuar!" I call out loudly, mumbled through my mouthguard, even though i am really not fine. Even though i should have taken a standing 8. But the sudden, broken spanish does interrupt the count while earning me a questioning look, that soon turns into acceptance over my stubburnness. The referee steps back, points at you, then raises a hand calls out "BOX!"

I hear you shouting from the neutral corner... I never doubted that... you are a true fighter, and you truly are aing this a really special fight... and I actually love that you want to go on... because you deserve to reach the end of the fight... to go the distance... to really show everyone that you are an amazing boxer... So as the ref shouts BOX! I spring out of the neutral corner, step forward, and before putting my guard up again I extend my left for you to touch it, saluting you and nodding, grunting "yeah" as I do it.

I am glad the referee is letting me continue this bout. Being called off now, so close to the finish line, would've been a massive blow to my ego. Yeah, it is selfish and stupid to want to keep going, but this whole event has been for me as much as every person attending. I will not finish on my back but on my feet and if i need to make a deal with the devil to get there. At this point, i have little hope at winning either. You have won the last two rounds and having to be saved by the referee isn't boding well for my chances at all. So, i either go at it with all i have left or i throw in the towel now. With the latter tossed out of contention quickly, i dig deep to find whatever last energy i can find. I meet you with my gloves raised and a tap of my glove to your offered mitt. You have been nothing but cordial. I'll give you this show of sportsmanship before i try and take your head off. That's what i do. I ready my guard and then forsake it as i come at you with blazing guns. I step in to go toe to toe and try to find your gut with a straight left hand. I want to draw your guard down before i wring the same glove upwards. I try and pummel another uppercut into your chin and then, just to leave it all on the table, swing another right hook towards your cheek. I almost stumble through that last punch, my energy flashing E as in Empty.

You touch my glove and I can see the fire in your eyes... you are a true born fighter... you won't step back... you then come closer and start firing and I feel what we must do... we must go on until the final bell... through pain and sweat and blood and exhaustion... you hit my body hard UGHHHH then my chin again jerking my head up... and as I lower it UGHH your cracking right hook slams my cheek hard jerking my head... feel a bit dizzy now... but it is alright... I am where I want to be... close... we are very close... so I USH try a fast cross right aiming to your left eye... then a swift combo, left jab-right hook aiming to your face again.

WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! My punches resound across the water and surprise the crowd as much as me. Viciously battering your head, but not your spirit. You stand your ground and meet me where i am at, defenseless slugging and wild punching. At least on my end. And thus your punches have little to no guard to bother with. The first cross slams home. Into my eye. Whips my head back. I stagger a step, my curves jiggling. My gloves shoot together, but the jab beats them back open perfectly for your right hook. More blood splatters from my mouth, i must have a cut somewhere inside. I taste the iron tang as my legs threaten to give. You having targeted my body all bout and now forgetting about it is the only reason i am still standing - somewhat standing, that is. I throw myself back at you. Misguided? Perhaps. But i only know forward at this point. With my head lowered i go for your body, bloody splotches adorning my white sports bra as i try to dig hooks into your body. Left-right, left-right! My right boot is perched between yours as i try to get as much power behind the futile attack as possible.

My gloves slam your face and you stumble a bit... for a moment you look about to fall...but you don't... and you simply come at me again, head low... grunting... growling... you come blindly at me almost like a bull and you piston your strong arms UGH UGHH UGHGH UGHHGH slamming my body so hard... your head on my chest... I must resist... my feet hold... I can feel my gut burning... hard to breath... I must resist... this round must reach the bell... even though your punches are tough to soak in... I USH USH hit your open face again with a short cross punch and then repeat USH with my right glove slamming your temple... and then USH USH fire a left hook-right hook slamming your ribs again... we are like wild bulls hitting on each other.

I have been doing my best to deal as much damage as i take, but i am so damn tired, so exhausted and so hurt. Your hefty black punchers have been punishing me truly this last round. The wear and tear is showing and now you add on some more. "MMGHH..NGHHH!" my head is torn, my face squashes by your cross before the hook slams into my temple. There's a flash of white in front of my eyes. I begin to teeter when you dig two more hooks into my body, right and left sides getting bruised up deeply. "Ouhhhhhh....!" Your gloves find no more resistance. My body has been caved in, well and truly and there is no way i am fighting any longer. My gloves drop at my sides and, with a loud THUD, my legs give way and i drop to my knees right in front of you before i fall to all fours, heaving for air while bloody spit drips in excessivly long strings to the canvas between your boots.

A collective gasp is heard as your legs give and you fall forward until you end on all fours... your blood and spit drip from your mouth at my feet... I look down at you, panting... the ref comes close again and puts his palm on my chest... "dame espacio" me dice... I give some steps backwards... sweaty all over... panting... my body is a symphony of pain after your brutal punches... ref starts counting you again... 1.... 2....

I look down at the small puddle forming between my yellow mitts. Droplets fall into it from my lips. The sight is somewhat hypnotic and soothing, despite the disturbing nature of the imagery. I could care less. My mind is too tumbled to draw strings or come to conclusions. All i now is pain and daze as i slowly wring up my head, wrenching my neck to see the big brawling boxer mike a few steps away, looking a good bit bruised but nowhere near as bad as i am feeling. "3!.... 4!....." Another count. I groan, making bloody bubbles foam around my mouthguard. I begin to garner my strength despite the aching, brutish pain sitting deep within my core. A constant companion at this point, but the deep humm in my ears and the constant spinning of my vision are new. I start to sit up, pushing off the canvas and onto my knees. My gaze is glassy, but not quite empty. The lights are on, just dimmed, running on emergency energy instead of the full grid. And yet my body is going through the motions. "5!..." I reach around for support but find none. No ropes in sight, i lean onto my thigh instead and heave a foot under me. It's a monumental task not to go flat on my face as i sway. "6!..." I gather my strength for a moment longer as though i don't want to drop the moment i trust my legs. Finally, at "7!...." I push up...well, not upright, but to my feet. There is no way i am in condition to fight, my gloves hanging heavy at my sides, but for once, it does not matter.

MIKE 

And so the fight ends... and you ended it on your two feet like a CHAMP and the crowd erupts in shrieks of enthusiasm... I simply cannot believe the fighter I just faced... I walk forward, opening my arms and hug you tight... "fight is finished... you went the distance... you are so brave" I say as I hug you, our sweaty bodies battered and bruised together as the crowd applauds.

I am so glad for the hug. Not because i needed your sweaty embrace for comfort but for the sheer support it offers. I lean into you, my body weighing heavy against yours. "Fuck...that was....intense." I pant through bloodied lips before i lean up and press a kiss to your cheek. "Thank you, Mike." My whispers is faint, the exhaustion really settling into my bones now. But finally we are drawn apart, the referee stepping between us. There's no doubt who won this bout at this point, i don't need to count pounts to know it, but i could care less. In the end, it is all about the money going to charity anyways. And my ego. I'll allow myself to enjoy the feeling of still standing on my feet even though my body is really wanting to lay low. "¡Tras cuatro asaltos espectaculares protagonizados por dos luchadores llenos de garra, ya tenemos un resultado! ¡El ganador por decisión de los jueces es... nada menos que yo mismo! ¡Miiiiike Booooxeeeeer!"

I lift my gloves as crowd applaudes... I know the money is great... and Red Cross gonna get some good deeds done with it... but I want to publicly acknowledge your bravery, and how you stood theought the fight and never gave up... I grab the mic from the speaker... "un gran aplauso para la reina del ring, la organizadora de todo esto... RACHEL STORMS!" I lift your arm up too... we both are winners in this awesome sunny day here in Bilbao... a day to remember forever... a day that forged a bond between us through a heavy rain of heavy punches...

a bond that will hold for a long time I hope.