Fight Like a Girl

p r a c t i c e

       

❝To see a man beaten not by a better opponent but by himself is a tragedy.❞

-Cus D'Amato

         I don’t fight for her.

I fight against her.

I fight as if she is my opponent, and if I win, she’ll finally understand why I fight. She’ll look at my face, at my toothy grin, and she’ll give a slow nod. It’ll be like a light switch turning on, for the first time, to light up a once completely dark room.

But at the same time, I try to make myself believe that she’s not the sole reason I fight so hard. I fight because I hate, but I also fight because I love.

It’s worth it, to see the look on Dad’s face when I win a match. And even if I don’t win, he’ll be there to lift my spirits. Not in a completely optimistic way, either, but in a realist way.

“You’ve learned more now. You may have lost today, but if you work hard enough, there’s tomorrow.”

And I fight for the girls. I fight for those girls to see what it really means to “fight like a girl.” To show them that, yeah, boxing may be made up of guys, but girls are damn good as well. To show them that no matter how weird their dream is, from being an astronaut to a radio dj, if they try their best they’ve got a shot. And I know not every girl is gonna see me, but some will.

I just wanna leave a mark.

“Show me what you got, Davis. It may not be a lot, but give me your all.” Coach stands about 10 feet away from me in the ring. He’s in pads and gloves, but he won’t hit me hard enough to actually hurt anything. He’ll just show me what would’ve happened.

I begin with a hit to the ribs. Shit, what if that’s a strong spot? Everett told me she had recently broken a rib, but perhaps he was lying.

I hesitate after hitting Coach, and he races toward me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me upward. He releases me gently instead of slamming me to the ground.

“Davis, what happened?”

“Sorry, I, uh, zoned out.”

“No time for that. Just fight.”

And I continue to try, harder and harder, but with each move I make comes questioning. Was Everett lying? Or telling the truth?
Should I make the move? Or not?

I stop for a moment, signal my hands in a T for timeout. Coach and I remove our headgear.

“Why are you so wimpy, Davis?”

“Hey!”
“Today, I mean. You’re failing, miserably.”

I’m frustrated, I want to tell him that. But I fear that if I tell him the moves I’ve learned, he’ll be thrown off too, and I don’t need that.

“Off my game today, Coach.”

“The day before the qualifier? You girls and your god damned mood swings.”

I’m so out of it that I don’t even correct him on it.

“Sorry, Coach. Won’t happen again.”

“It better not.”
“I think it’s best if I go home, rest a bit, and practice later on.”

“As long as you’re ready, Davis. As long as you’re ready.”

I am. I don’t feel as if I am, but I know I am.

AN: The state qualifier chapter will be posted tomorroowwwww eeeh! Any predictions? How are you guys liking the story?