There was a time…..
Brief black out,
There was a time……
Men jump over each other, Howling ,cursing, making all sounds of emotion. From the suits in expensive gold watches , to the degenerates. It’s like a journey back to the days of the coliseum. Every punch produces both applause and pity.
The screaming never stops.
This is the world of the dark, human emotion raw. Aggression welcomed . Men, made and broken. The lights dim underneath my swollen tissue. Bodily fluids coat the canvass.
The maniacs cheer on.
‘Not too long now’
Fear and concern bulge through his pink eyes. He is asking himself if he should stop this carnage.
I am reduced to battered meat. Nothing anyone does now will make any difference.
My knees hurt from bruises caused by hitting the canvas, My ankles are sore, from twisting. My chest feels like ninety kilo’s.
I fall in and out of the present situation.
But for whiskey, I would feel a lot worse.
‘He wants me down bad’
There is a saying, that sometimes the mind exceeds physical ability. I say sometimes the mind doesn‘t have a choice but to believe this saying.
In the corner of my eye, I see the my trainer . His eyes are pleading, pleading for this to stop.
A right hook lifts my stunned vision over the crowds. Over the front row hot shots, into the void.
The shouts echo.
There is not one recognisable face, not even hers.
‘To hell with it! all of it’
The only useful thing my dad ever told me was that at some point, every man must stand for a principle.
Sweat, blood and phlegm depart from my glands. My view tilts like a plate of pie turned vertically. I beckon towards the canvas. Collapse like a building from the impact of a wrecking ball.
‘The bigger they are, the harder they fall’
This is the bit where the slow motion kicks in. You feel like you have all the time in the world.
It’s like waking up at 5.45 when you have to be up at 6.15 and you think, ill sleep just a little longer.
‘There was a time’
A time, when I was the hottest prospect in underground boxing. I was dubbed the most promising fighter since the Cinderella man.
That time was a long time ago.
These days, I’m a sloppy, overweight excuse for a prize fighter. You could call me a mercenary boxer. I’m the man if you need one, to get a bashing. Get a bashing and make it look good. Whatever you want as long as you’ve got tall enough money.
Dreams become laughable when your 33 and you have nothing.
The beast on the other hand is really something. The last boxer to step into the ring with him, now suffers from mental dysfunction. No one was stupid enough to fight him again, but me.
Where 8 seconds seems closer to a day , I can hear the echo of my heart beat , it is a feeling similar to having your head underwater. But this no time for dreaming. In life it’s always easier to always do nothing. The canvas is cold, I’m tired, I need to sleep, I need sleep so bad, I’ll shut my eyes, watch the light diminish and welcome the darkness , slowly, gradually, I’ll just rest my eyes for a bit.
