Leaping unto the ring, standing tall as the all-time champ, but nothing ever gripped me as hard as fear of the newcomers, they had the innovations, the brains to knock out even my peers whom I considered them to be very good. I strapped the polymer around my palms, then my wrist, tightened myself up by biting on the mouth guard, pumped both of my fists in the air, welcomed by the heated crowds of the MMA.

I felt chastened, something was bothering me, not the crowd, but my foe. After I marched into the ring, “Let us welcome the newbie into the ring!” the booming voice of the host exclaimed, “Zero matches, will this be his first loss?” I locked my eyes into his demeanor, analysing his posture, his footing as he sauntered into the ring, he was shaking. It’s his first match. 

Underestimating him, a little, plus he had a lean body with much less protruding muscles, paying a closer attention, he looked like those homeless men who smoke weed for days, dried up. He stared straight into my soul when the match was about to start, he had no mercy, a death’s glare.

I shook, slightly. Three, two, one. TING! TING! TI… A punch was thrown by him out of the blue, dodging it deftly. Little kid, you have more to learn than to be harsh. I spoke inside me, he sharpened his elbow, attempting to lay fatal blow on me, but I blocked it, this one packs a punch… should I end it early…? I was basically dodging everything that he was sending me.

“ARGHHH!” he cried in a sore voice, as I decided to land a coup de grace on him, actually hitting him, hard. His mouth guard flew out, followed up with some blood. Shit. I went too hard. I did not stop, as to not underestimate my opponent. I locked in another blow unto his tummy, then his head, another front kick into his ribs, sending him flying into the edge of the ring. The referee counted down, the crowd was unimpressed by the fast finish, but he crawled unto his feet, a tumultuous roar was sent by the crowd.

As the referee prepped us to continue the match, he made a move first, a counterfeit one, he threw a punch to my face as an diversion for his another hand to make contact with my stomach. It was not a punch, it was as if a set of brass knuckles just messed up my innards. Slightly blurred out, I regained my consciousness, another punch was sent to me, same as my set of moves just now. Shit. I spat out some blood, and was pinned to the ground, he went wild, sending a set of gattling punches throughout the vital parts of my body.

The referee had to pull him apart, he had crossed the line, I stood up again. Not giving me ample time to collect my broken piece back, he was sending another punch into my direction, I dodged it, and dodged the counter elbow, replying his moves with a signature Bruce Lee’s “Three-legged Lee”, shooting him across the ring, knocking him out for good.

That’s why I am afraid to combat the newbies, they have creativity, but it is good enough to trump experience, not defeat, but shaken.

Craving for more? Down below:
Am I Ready?
Last Minute
Unstoppable Together
What Does A ‘Follow’ Mean?
Music Box Escape
Understanding, Forsaking.



Published by zeckrombryan

Hope. Joy. Feelings cloaked as words.

8 thoughts on “Shaken

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