Any comments appreciated, 1,500 words. Once again this is a whole story not a beginning.
The guy was big, bigger than he’d thought, bigger than he’d been told. As he shook Eddie’s hand he had given a brief glance towards Eddie’s feet then up his body, Eddie had felt the well-practiced eye of an experienced boxer pass over his thick legs, his short stubby arms. Eddie gave a slightly pissed of look towards Sam as he helped him on with his gloves but Sam didn’t notice.
“Get in close Eddie, you can’t let him use his range, come under his jab, quick punches then back out.”
Sam was almost hopping up and down with excitement, kissing Eddie’s gloves and fucking around with the drink bottle. Only the slight lines around his eyes gave away the fact that he had been up since four this morning, working at the market then later picking his kids up from school and cooking them dinner.
“Go a bit easy this first round, just to warm up, he’ll probably only hit you as hard as you hit him but keep your hands up, watch his left hook.”
Eddie smiled grimly at the word “probably,” but again didn’t say anything. He bit down on the offered mouth guard and strode out into the centre of the ring. The big guys trainer, an old craggy looking guy with a flattened nose and a bald head took over proceedings.
“Ok boys touch gloves, keep it light for now, nice and easy, we’ll do three rounds with thirty second breaks.”
The usual Brizzy boys’ crowd quietened down and looked up at the ring. The other guy was from Darwin, an unknown quantity and people were curious about him. As Eddie smacked gloves he heard Grant’s voice in the background.
“Come on Eddie, left hook mate.”
The guy from Darwin circled warily, throwing his jab out, not fast enough to put him off balance, not slow enough for Eddie to get in on. Eddie noticed he was a southpaw, and grimaced, as if things weren’t bad enough. The guys’ chin was too high though, a small gap between his left hand and his glove. He’d learnt how to boxing in rough, dusty Darwin gyms, were heart was valued more than technique and it was almost with pride that he exposed his chin, daring Eddie to come in and get it. Eddie didn’t hurry though; he always started fights like this, keeping away till he worked out the patterns and the rhythms of his opponent. Till he could know what combinations the guy would throw a split second before he did. Right now though the Southpaw wasn’t throwing any combinations, just jabbing, a long, quick jab that kept Eddie at a distance as he tried to find an opening for the left. Eddie had sparred a few southpaws and they all seemed to fight the same way, jabs with the occasional left bomb that you either avoided or got knocked out by. Eddie also knew that a southpaw could be hit the easiest just as they threw the left, and if he could get in while this guy threw his he could probably knock him around a little.
The first left that came Eddie just stepped back from. He saw it coming, shuffled backwards, and answered with a jab of his own to keep the guy away. The Southpaw came forward again, doubled the jab to try and catch Eddie’s bobbing head. The second jab Eddie came in on, ducking under to aim a punch at the kidney. The Southpaw stepped out of range though, and threw a left that grazed the top of Eddie’s head. The pace slowly increased, Eddie trying to get in on the taller man, while he kept him away with a flurry of long punches. Then came a one two combination that Eddie saw coming. He took the jab on his glove, ducked the left and popped the southpaw on the nose with a short, sharp left of his own. The Southpaw grunted and threw a big left hook but Eddie was already gone, bopping up and down just out of
range.
“I’m fucked now,” Eddie thought. The Southpaw looked pissed, and Eddie knew his punches were about to get harder.
The pattern of fighting continued, with Eddie ducking punches and occasionally getting inside the Southpaws guard for a quick one two then out again. It was towards the end of the round and he decided to press the guy a little, really make the round his own. He watched and waited, then moved in after ducking a jab. A split second too late he saw the perfectly weighted left aimed straight for his nose. For an instant the room was white, then he was on one knee, his nose smarting like nothing else.
“You right mate?” the southpaw asked with mock concern, offering a helping glove to Eddie as the bell sounded.
“Yeah, fine” Eddie said quickly as he tried to regain his senses.
“Just a bit out of shape. “
As he walked back to his corner he swore under his breath. That had been his round, He’d been all over the prick but because he’d got fucking careless Sam was probably going to stop it.
Sam however, was doing no such thing.
“That was great Eddie, your nose is ok yeah? I told you to watch that left didn’t I?”
Eddie sometimes wondered if he would ever get as desensitised to being punched as Sam was. The first time he had sparred Sam he had got him a hard hook to the head and immediately felt terrible, after all the guy was around fifty years old and around twenty kilos lighter than him. But the pain hadn’t seemed to have even fazed him.
“Great hook Eddie, that was beautiful! Good boy.”
He’d almost wet himself with excitement then, bobbing up and down and kissing Eddie on the forehead, as if Eddie had just baked him a cake, not nearly broke his fucking jaw.
The bell sounded, and suddenly Eddie was out in the centre of the ring again, alone against this prick that looked like he ate numbats for breakfast. The southpaw was cockier this round, not bothering to keep his distance as he tried to plant another left on Eddie’s nose. Eddie was good in these situations though. As much as he disliked the idea, he was a great brawler, and only a good boxer. His favourite fighters, Wright, Haggler, Robinson were all known for their silky skills, their ability to last twelve rounds without getting hit. Eddie however shone when the punches were thick and fast, and his opponent was out for blood. That was happening right now and Eddie was more than up for the challenge. He stopped fighting showy, took a jab to the face and was in, slamming the Southpaw in the kidney. The Southpaw should have retreated then, backed up to where his reach would be an advantage but pride got in the way. Like hell was he gonna back down from some little city kid who was around ten kilos lighter than him. Instead he threw a big hook, hoping to catch Eddie by surprise. The hook sailed through thin air though, as Eddie ducked and bang, a left hook that sent the southpaw flailing back across the ring, trying desperately to clear his head. Eddie followed him, too quickly
Once again Eddie was on one knee but this time he was up before the Southpaw or his trainer could say anything.
“The fucking left,” he thought furiously. It had hit him twice and both times he had ended up on the ground. He knew he was a better fighter than this prick, but had been caught out by two moments of carelessness.
By the time the bell rang to end the second round Eddie was breathing hard. He had landed a few good body shots towards the end, one that had drawn an audible grunt, but he hadn’t managed to take the prick down. He had noticed the southpaw slowing towards the end of the round but then again, so was he. The last round would be about heart as much as anything else.
The Southpaw started the last round cautiously; his trainer had probably given him an earful about getting tagged with that hook. Even though the intensity had dropped, Eddie was tiring. He’d been a little slack with training lately and it was showing. At the two minute mark the Southpaw suddenly picked it up a notch. This time however, Eddie was just a little to slow. The jabs started catching him, and whenever he tried to get in the left would come out, either forcing him back or sending him staggering. Desperately he kept away, looking for an opening. Suddenly he found himself backed into the ropes. He tried to weave out to the left but the Southpaw stepped across, pushing him back into the corner. The Southpaw had him trapped now, and Eddie was nearly gone. Earlier in the fight this would have been no problem, a duck under a jab, a pivot and Eddie would have been on the other side of the ring but it was as if his muscles had turned to jelly. The Southpaw wasn’t getting close, but wasn’t letting him out of the corner. He threw long combinations, jarring punches that sent jolts through Eddie’s body. At last, mustering up his last reserves of strength, Eddie came off the ropes, weathering a jab to the face to land a right on the Southpaws’ throat that sent him reeling. Lungs burning, vision blurring Eddie followed, knowing that if he eased off the pressure for a second he would probably not be able to regain it. A body punch, a wild double jab and a flailing right were all he had, before he collapsed onto the Southpaw. Drawing him into a desperate embrace, trying to stop those hands for just a few more seconds….
The bell sounded with Eddie once more on one knee, this time from a left hook he hadn’t even seen coming. He struggled desperately to get air into his lungs and to clear his head, rose to his feet and touched gloves for the last time with the southpaw. “Nice one mate,” said the southpaw, suddenly friendly.
“You really hurt me with a few of those body shots.”
“Yeah, a few more of those and I reckon we can get you your first fight,” said Sam from the corner.
