After The Fight

By Damion Hamilton

Tony sat in the dressing room. The fight was over, and he had loss. He passed his prime, and he knew it. Others had told him, he didnít have it any more. But he couldnít quite believe it. He saw the bruises on his face, and his swollen and discolored features, and this told him the truth. He was old, and the killer instinct had left him. Damn, did that kid have a lot of fire tonight? He reminded him of himself ten years ago. That guy would have never beaten him ten years ago, though he was good. When he looked the kid in the eye, there was no fear on his part. He had been in too many fights for there to be any fear. Perhaps he had become too complacent, and that was why he loss. He did not know? The reflexes were just not their tonight. And thatís the last thing you notice are the reflexes leaving you. The problem was that he knew that going to go for the leg takedown, but he could not react quick enough to stop him, and the proved fatal to his stamina. That row, on the ground, took so much out of him. No matter how you train---how much you run, or the aerobics it takes much out of you, battling the strength of another. The guy was a strikeróa brutal striker. And while standing up, he was so quick. And those jabs and kicks came in rapid succession. But he wasnít so good with the kicks, but the punches were mostly accurate. He knew what a knee could do to the body. Nothing quite compares to a knee to ribcage, or a knee to the skull. How did the human being become so vicious? Did his parents treat him badly, wasnít it his ugliness? Did some women treat him badly? Was it some silly insult from his past? Or did he just want money and fame.

Well money, isnít much, and fame isnít much. But these hungry young guys think so much of it. How could he fall for the brutal shit? He was the technician, trained for years to combat that sort of thing. But his patience couldnít curb the violent urgency of the younger manís flesh. He couldnít exploit the weakness through a mistake. Yeah, that was it. You wait for a brutal fighter like that, to hang him, but there wasnít any rope. Defeat is hard, when you are used to the bells and the glory. Old age and decay was inevitable, but Tony thought that he would never get old. There was another fight, perhaps a few months from today, or within a year. And he knew that he would win that one.

(C)opyright 2007 Damion Hamilton All Rights Reserved

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