“And his opponent across the ring. Fighting out of the blue corner, with his head coach Aaron Beaumont, wearing red-white-and-blue shorts. His official weight being two hundred twenty-three pounds, ladies and gentlemen, introducing from Detroit, right here in the USA, the current WBO Champion of the World, Rico ‘Double Tap’ Temple.” His fans screamed and hollered as people cleared out of the ring. Kieran removed my robe, and Danny put the gum shield into my mouth.
“I hope you took a picture, ’cause that face ain’t gonna be so pretty when you come out,” Danny joked.
“Well he’s fucked then, ’cause if he fights Temple like he did last time, his looks’ll be the only thing he’s got going for him,” Kieran replied with a chuckle.
“Your confidence in me is fucking overwhelming,” I mumbled at them through my gum shield.
“Ah, put your big girl pants on,” Danny barked at me. “Last time you fought this fucker, I told you to make him work for it. Now I’m telling you the same thing. I want five or six rounds nice and easy. Make him think you’re nervous. Make him throw and miss his punches. When he starts getting tired, but figures he’s got you on points, I want you to let him have it. I want you shocking the hell out of this crowd and lead southpaw.”
I nodded my head to let him know I understood. I knew the game plan, and I was following it this time. I would be disciplined and precise, but fucking brutal. Rico Temple wouldn’t know what hit him.
When we came to the center of the ring, the referee called for a clean fight. Temple smirked at me, and I regretted that I couldn’t give him the finger. I held out my gloves like last time, knowing he’d ignore them. Fuck him if he wanted to be a bad sportsman.
He knocked my hands away then laughed when the crowd jeered at him. I flexed my shoulders and shook out my arms as I waited for the glorious sound of the bell to ring. When it did, I came out ready to dance. Temple didn’t expect it. He knew I was hungry for this, and my bet was that he thought I’d follow the same play as last time. The cocky, inexperienced kid who thought he had a shot at the title at twenty-four. This time I did exactly as I was fucking told. I wouldn’t be letting Danny down twice. I’d given Temple a shit performance last time, so I could forgive him for not knowing what a fucking amazing boxer I could be.
The first minute or two, he watched me bob and weave my way around the canvas, almost taunting him to take a shot. I wasn’t being edged into a corner or against the ropes. If this fucker wanted me, he could come and get me. He threw out a couple of wild jabs to goad me into attacking, but after a couple of minutes, he knew the fight wasn’t going to go down like he expected. That might have been the point that I winked at him. Of course Temple didn’t appreciate my newfound take on anger management. In fact, I’m pretty sure from the way he grunted and charged at me, that the wink pissed him off. He threw combination after combination at me, but I kept my guard up. I imagine it would have made a great news story to say that he knocked me out in the first round, but today wasn’t Temple’s day. It was mine. I let him wear himself out until the bell rang, then winked at him again. Fuck him.
“Well, I like your style, Con, but I don’t think Temple’s a big fan of your work,” Kieran told me as I sat down on the corner stool.
“Shame, that. I think we could ’ave been mates,” I gasped, before Kier filled my mouth with water.
“You’re doing good, Con. You’re doing real good. Just keep out of the way of that monster right hand of his. Don’t get sloppy and leave yourself open, or this thing’s gonna be over before it even starts.” I nodded, taking Danny’s advice before I was standing and the bell rang out again.
For the next four rounds, my feet barely touched the canvas. I was fast but not invisible. Even with my guard up high, this fucker hit like a wrecking ball. The whole fight was playing out almost like a complete reversal of the exhibition bout. The calmer I was, the angrier he became. I dropped my guard a few times, and he caught me with a couple of jabs, one of which cut the corner of my left eye.
When the bell rang, signaling the end of round five, I was about done with this passive bullshit. “Dan, he ain’t tiring out as quickly as we thought. If I don’t get him on a knockout, I might end up losing this thing on points,” I panted, as Danny treated my bloodied eye.
“He’s getting frustrated, but ain’t letting go of this title easy. You’ve done enough to wear him down, now you start showing me some magic. But no going southpaw yet. You hold that back until you need it at the end,” Danny advised me.
When he’d finished with my eye, I swilled around some water then spat it back out. The minute the bell rang, I was off that stool and looking for an opening. Temple threw a couple of jabs, expecting what I’d been showing him for the last five rounds. This time I didn’t let a single jab connect.
As I ducked and sidestepped a second time, he dropped his guard, and that was it. Like the whole thing was happening in slow motion, I saw my window of opportunity and took it. Years of push-ups, pull-ups, and bench presses and a lifetime of pain and discipline went into that punch. My right jab caught his attention but I followed it up with a left hook that connected with his torso. I know he felt that down to his foundation. A perfectly executed body shot is a thing of beauty. The head shots look bad, but I just caught this fucker in the liver. From the look on his face, the pain was crippling.
The crowd went crazy. If I’d hit any other fighter like that, he’d be on his knees or flat out on the canvas by now. As cocky as he was, I had to give him credit. He was hard as fucking nails for taking that shot and still standing. For the thirty seconds left in the round, I tried to capitalize on the hit, but he was too good. He stayed out of my way and protected himself. I gave him a pummeling but there was no second opening. As the round ended, he slumped into his corner. He might recover enough to catch his breath in the next few minutes, but as he stared across the canvas at me, all cockiness gone, I knew he understood just how dangerous I was.
The next three rounds were the most difficult I’d ever fought in my career, each one more brutal than the next. The cut to my eye was getting bigger with every punch.
“What do I do about my eye?” I asked Danny during a break.
“Don’t get hit again,” he replied with a chuckle. “Protect the eye and look for an opening. Keep your guard up and don’t fight defensively. He didn’t go down with the liver shot, and that punch was feckin’ perfect. We need the points now so start getting ’em on the scorecard.”