I sat up…opened my eyes…the room was filled with bright lights. Hmmm…now where is this place. I checked out my surroundings and came to a conclusion that I was in the hospital getting up from the hospital bed and the room was empty. I hate being in the hospital because most it the time you only go there to receive bad news from doctors diagnosing you with certain ailments. Just as I was about to get off the hospital, I looked up at the Television to see if it provided me with the current time. It didn’t but it was a sports channel and they were covering highlights of a boxing match. I watched closely…my eyes were glued to the screen and didn’t even pay attention to the nurse that just walked in to my room. One of the fighters in black trunks fights exactly like I do. He’s hit hard with the speed of the devil…I was really impressed. Then the fighter on TV with the black trunks turned and walked to his corner at the end of the round…and low and behold…the fighter was me…and the highlights they were showing were the highlights of my fight. I shook my head…the commentators commented that both our conditioning was embarrassing but both fighters showed tremendous heart. But that phrase, “both the fighters’ conditioning was embarrassing,” were imprinted to my memory…I won’t forget that…ever.
“Hi champ!” the nurse said sweetly. I looked up at her, she looked like those fit young girls that worked in a fitness club at the front counter greeting customers and answering phone calls. I chuckled and thought to myself, did my coach play a prank on me and have this girl play dress-up as the naughty nurse and make her role-play with me as a winning bonus?...after all this IS Vegas and you all know the saying "what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas." Or is this really legit Sin City nurse uniform, low cut with short skirts...
“You know a lot of people that work in this hospital who didn’t have work tonight all went to your fight eh?” she said.
“Really? I’m glad you had to work tonight,” I said under my breath.
“Why you say that?” she asked.
“Cause I put on a hell of a fight…” I replied. She seemed puzzled. “A hell of a ‘boring’ fight,” I finished. She looked at my elbow area. It was swelling up. “Does it hurt a lot? Do you want ice while the doctor gets here?” she asked. “Naw…I’m fine, thanks!” I replied. She pulled up a chair and sat beside me and asked, “So…what do you do in Toronto?” Before I could answer her question her pager went off. She had to go tend to another patient. She opened the door…she paused for 2 seconds and turned around and said cheerfully, “Don’t miss me too much, I’ll be back!” She winked as she closed the door.
I laid back on the bed. My photographic memory allows me to view the whole match as I remembered it to be like a film on playback. I was going through what I did well and the mistakes I made. I can start to feel pain on the places he threw punches at me now since the adrenaline wore off.
The door burst open and in stepped the doctor. He had the name tag that said Dr. Woreff on it. He’s a middle aged fellow and unlike other doctors I’ve seen this one didn’t seem to be socially handicapped…he seemed like someone I can talk to other than about health and nerdy stuff. “Congratulations on your victory!” he said cheerfully. I forced a smile out. “Well I’m sure you have places to go and people that would love to meet you…especially all that PR stuff you’d have to handle after a fight here in Vegas.” He’s right I did have a lot of interviews and after-parties to go to including the one I’m suppose to host right now at the Palms which I already paid for. But I was in no rush to get out of the hospital any time soon. Las Vegas…the place I called home away from home booed me after my fight and while I was answering questions from the announcer. It’s quite hard to take even for a person as thick skinned as me. Dr. Woreff was applying pressure on certain parts of the elbow asking me if I felt pain to see if I had a tear on my ligament or a ruptured tendon. I didn’t…it just ruptured my pride when 5,300 fans booed me in unison. When the check up was complete, I thanked the doctor and proceeded to the exit. As I reached for the door…
“You know…” the doctor said. I froze. “My son, his name’s Mike, he’s a fan of boxing…I took him to Orlando, Florida last Christmas and all he wanted to do when we got there was see you fight. My son is autistic...” I shook my head, “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Well, he doesn’t talk much, if not at all. At any rate, my wife and I bought tickets to see your fight just as the got sold out. You put on a great show dazzling hand speed…a perfect display of craftsmanship…My son was cheering and yelling and talking to us while you were fighting and in between rounds. It was a magical moment for me and my wife; we’d never seen him this happy before and talk that much.” He paused, “I want you to know something kid, I don’t care who says…if you really want it…go after it…don’t let anyone tell you otherwise…doesn’t matter if they boo you…you're my sons hero...you mean the world to him and that means a hella lot to me too.” I nodded. “Thank you.” I said quietly. “No, Thank YOU.” He said as he shook my hand and gave me a pat on the back.
I walked out of the room my coach was right outside the door waiting. I told him everything’s alright. He told me I took a shower after the fight and got dressed up for the post fight conference and passed out of exhaustion on the dressing room. Then the doctor in charge during the fight advised that you should get your elbow checked out prior to the post fight conference. By the time I checked out of the hospital it was already 1:15am. If I was in Toronto with the flawed health care system I wouldn’t be taken care of for days until the doctor has time to see me. Its still early I could make it to my after party and meet some of the fight fans. But the thought of them booing me didn’t seem to be a welcoming presence even if it's my own party at the Palms. I took a deep breath of Las Vegas desert oasis…very dry yet refreshing. I’m calling it a night...going to heading back to my hotel suite…its one of these nights where I want to keep it low key even though this fight has gotten a lot of negative press and feedback. And while I was in the hospital, my opponent Terrell was out having a drink and a good time at my after party…(looks like he's more of a winner than i am)
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Loveless 12:3
The sun peeks through the curtains of my hotel suite. “It’s been how long? Almost eleven years...and I’m still putting myself through this shit,” I thought to myself as I crawled out of bed the day of the fight. Met up with the rest of my team and went downstairs for breakfast. Breakfast they especially catered to us. It comprised of raw veggies and some pasta with shredded pork….didn’t taste great but its fuel for my energy for my upcoming fight in 7 hours.
Next is the briefing before the fight. Under my request my old coach came to brief me alongside my new coach. They both insist that a second voice is welcomed, but it begs the question…how much knowledge can fit in just one briefing room. They see things certain moves I have to make…some things I must not do with my opponent. We make the final adjustments…watch the tapes of Terrell fighting for the last time. The height will have nothing to do with it…the reach, speed, athleticism will have nothing to do with it…who’s going to win is the better fighter tonight. “You dictate…you dictate everything…everything first…faint first...box first…everything..” my coach said. “Don’t lose or change your rhythm…ever…’cause its what makes you Kelton.” My former coach added.
We had our second meal to put back on some weight we lost from the weigh-ins yesterday I was in the locker room as the event was underway with the undercard fighters fighting. I was in the dressing room running the game plan through my head. I couldn’t sit still…the energy in the arena was so electrifying that it went through concrete walls from the arena to the stadium. I was like a child with ADD…I couldn’t sit still. Every 5 minutes I would get up and shadowbox…I was so energized and pumped for this fight. There was a sudden knock on the door of my dressing room. My coach opened the door, my manager walks in and tells me someone wants to see me. I was in state of mind to go for 12 rounds of war, so I just nodded. Then my manager repeated, “Mrs. Gretsky wants to meet you…yes Wayne Gretsky’s wife.” I nodded, “Bring her in.” She walked in wearing a nice summer dress. She had a sweet scent of perfume on. I shook her hand…she could sense the urgency and anxiousness in the room. She said, “I’m here to support Canadian athletes…don’t get injured…have fun and see you out there!”
It’s time to get warmed up…10 minutes before the announcer introduces us to the ring and play our national anthems…this is the time when it all seems like a blur. I worked the mitts with my coach and shadowbox. I was introduced first and made my entrance to Kanye West’s song “Amazing” while Terrell made his entrance to Jeremih’s “I’m a Star”. It all seems like a blur…a dream…because my ears were plugged so I didn’t know whether the crowd was booing me or not and it felt like there’s a cloud up in my head…
The opening bell rung…he came out strong….pressing the action. I retreated with lateral movement which kept him from landing bombs on me. I lost focus for a second and lost track of where I was in the ring I was close to the corner…right where he wanted me to. He engaged and once again I tried to step away…but this time he cut the ring off and used his shoulder to put me against the corner. I covered up and bobbed and weave as best as I could. Some of his shots went through my gloves and arms but I didn’t feel pain. I just heard “pop…pop pop”…the sound of his gloves hitting me. He was trying to reconfigure my face…but since I felt no pain, I regained my compsure a bit and dropped my arms into Philly shell. He was digging real deep to get the body shots. I lowered my hands to adjust leaving my chin hanging out. And suddenly BOOM…an uppercut smashed my chin…I saw stars for a bit…and was wondering if he broke my jaws. At this point I was back to reality. That punch hurt. And before I knew it another left hook slammed right into my cheek bone….at that point…I knew I needed to get out of the corner. I clinched him and pushed him back hard and box in the clinch to buy myself some time and regain my composure. The sound of the bell concludes the first round. I walk dreadfully back to my corner. I thought to myself…this is only the first round…I got 12 rounds of punishment ahead of me if this persists…As I sat and my coach was giving me instructions…all that was on my mind were my friends and family back home in Toronto. With my photographic memory...I could almost see pictures of them through my eyes…I couldn’t let them down…I can’t give up!
The start of round 2…I decided to take the centre of the ring. A bold but stupid move when I’m up against a bigger stronger opponent. This round was no different from the first he threw me up against the ropes this time and punished me. I was getting bullied and he was throwing his punches with bad intentions…I can feel the power of his punches…I can feel all four knuckles through the gloves when he punches. As the round ended I staggered back to my corner. I thought to myself…this is the price I pay for not training hard before the fight. But little did I know that my opponent didn’t train hard enough either. The Referee went to my corner and yelled, “You have to fight back next round or I’m stopping the fight.” I nodded. My coach poured water on me…this was a nightmare. “Listen. I need you to listen like you’d never listened before!” my coach yelled. “You okay?” I nodded. “You lost the last 2 rounds…” I knew that. “Don’t worry about the last two rounds…it’s a totally new fight now…use that head movement and move to the right like we did in training and make him pay for missing. Press with that jab.”
Third round, he’s got his timing down, his rhythm going steady and established his distance already…something every fighter must complete during the opening rounds and I have yet to complete one. This round was a bit better, I kept boxing and moving. Hit and run. I used my head movement just as my coach laid out. He wasn’t hitting anything…I could see frustration in his eyes. I tried to grab me and throw me to the ropes once again but I stepped back and countered with an uppercut of my own. The sound of the bell marked the end of the 3rd. Now I’m back in the game. “Good job son! Don’t let him touch you create distance with that jab as he’s coming toward you…give me an angle…all he’s doing is stalking and stalking you…that’s too predictable. Stay away from the ropes…you don’t belong there!”
Round four was underway; probably the most exciting round of them all. We both come out quickly eager to engage. I continued to counter on his punches that he missed. He was eating left and right straights left, right and center. I got a little over confident and let my guard down. He capitalized on it…he grabbed me and pressed me up against the ropes and dragged me into the deep waters. He landed a 1-2-3 combo clean on my face. The crowd went crazy…thinking Terrell was about to put me away. The pain instinctively caused my knees to bend and try to touch the floor which would have count as a knock down. I’ve never been knocked down before…never wanted to. I drive my heels down hard to bring myself up. I pushed my opponent as my life depended on it and followed with a 1-2 combo to his body and took the centre of the ring. I dropped my hands and motioned “Bring it on!” The crowd of just over 5,300 all stood up and roared. They were in for a good fight…at least they thought up to this point. Then all that was taught in training went out the window…I didn’t wanted to box anymore…I wanted to brawl like him. I took a beating from him the first three rounds. It proved to everybody here that he was a world class rough and tough brawler…but I wanted to prove to everyone here that I was even better than him at his own game. So we both went after it. It was a total scrap…he went after it and so did I…toe to toe. Non stop action…he hit me and I hit him back and forth…the type of fight everyone wants to see. At one point I crushed him with my right straight and he dropped to the canvas like a sack of potatoes. It was a curse in disguise…it helped me score points and win the round but I heard a snap on my elbow. For the rest of the fight, I couldn’t use my right hand. He got up unfazed and was ready for more. It was stupid; I didn’t work hard enough on my cardio to have the stamina for a bout like this and I was wasting energy brawling with him. By the end of the round I was physically exhausted and so was he.
From round 5 to 12 was a boring fight…he kept grabbing me to catch his breath and I didn’t try and get him off me because I was winded and needed to catch mine. By the 8th round, the boos filled the arena. And by the 11th and 12th round people were leaving. This was not the type of fight I’m use to putting out.
I won the split decision. As the announcer interviewed me after the fight...because I put up a boring fight, they kept booing me even while I was talking…got me a little worked up but tried not hide it. I apologized to the fans for a boring fight and promised a better outing next time…
When asked about my injury, I said, “I’m going to work my ass off until this ride is over. It’s something that I’ll deal with but don’t feel sorry for me; I’ll be back stronger than ever. Although this sport might have dealt me this injury but feelings toward the sweet science is pure and passionate. I’m not gonna let this injury take me over…”
Next is the briefing before the fight. Under my request my old coach came to brief me alongside my new coach. They both insist that a second voice is welcomed, but it begs the question…how much knowledge can fit in just one briefing room. They see things certain moves I have to make…some things I must not do with my opponent. We make the final adjustments…watch the tapes of Terrell fighting for the last time. The height will have nothing to do with it…the reach, speed, athleticism will have nothing to do with it…who’s going to win is the better fighter tonight. “You dictate…you dictate everything…everything first…faint first...box first…everything..” my coach said. “Don’t lose or change your rhythm…ever…’cause its what makes you Kelton.” My former coach added.
We had our second meal to put back on some weight we lost from the weigh-ins yesterday I was in the locker room as the event was underway with the undercard fighters fighting. I was in the dressing room running the game plan through my head. I couldn’t sit still…the energy in the arena was so electrifying that it went through concrete walls from the arena to the stadium. I was like a child with ADD…I couldn’t sit still. Every 5 minutes I would get up and shadowbox…I was so energized and pumped for this fight. There was a sudden knock on the door of my dressing room. My coach opened the door, my manager walks in and tells me someone wants to see me. I was in state of mind to go for 12 rounds of war, so I just nodded. Then my manager repeated, “Mrs. Gretsky wants to meet you…yes Wayne Gretsky’s wife.” I nodded, “Bring her in.” She walked in wearing a nice summer dress. She had a sweet scent of perfume on. I shook her hand…she could sense the urgency and anxiousness in the room. She said, “I’m here to support Canadian athletes…don’t get injured…have fun and see you out there!”
It’s time to get warmed up…10 minutes before the announcer introduces us to the ring and play our national anthems…this is the time when it all seems like a blur. I worked the mitts with my coach and shadowbox. I was introduced first and made my entrance to Kanye West’s song “Amazing” while Terrell made his entrance to Jeremih’s “I’m a Star”. It all seems like a blur…a dream…because my ears were plugged so I didn’t know whether the crowd was booing me or not and it felt like there’s a cloud up in my head…
The opening bell rung…he came out strong….pressing the action. I retreated with lateral movement which kept him from landing bombs on me. I lost focus for a second and lost track of where I was in the ring I was close to the corner…right where he wanted me to. He engaged and once again I tried to step away…but this time he cut the ring off and used his shoulder to put me against the corner. I covered up and bobbed and weave as best as I could. Some of his shots went through my gloves and arms but I didn’t feel pain. I just heard “pop…pop pop”…the sound of his gloves hitting me. He was trying to reconfigure my face…but since I felt no pain, I regained my compsure a bit and dropped my arms into Philly shell. He was digging real deep to get the body shots. I lowered my hands to adjust leaving my chin hanging out. And suddenly BOOM…an uppercut smashed my chin…I saw stars for a bit…and was wondering if he broke my jaws. At this point I was back to reality. That punch hurt. And before I knew it another left hook slammed right into my cheek bone….at that point…I knew I needed to get out of the corner. I clinched him and pushed him back hard and box in the clinch to buy myself some time and regain my composure. The sound of the bell concludes the first round. I walk dreadfully back to my corner. I thought to myself…this is only the first round…I got 12 rounds of punishment ahead of me if this persists…As I sat and my coach was giving me instructions…all that was on my mind were my friends and family back home in Toronto. With my photographic memory...I could almost see pictures of them through my eyes…I couldn’t let them down…I can’t give up!
The start of round 2…I decided to take the centre of the ring. A bold but stupid move when I’m up against a bigger stronger opponent. This round was no different from the first he threw me up against the ropes this time and punished me. I was getting bullied and he was throwing his punches with bad intentions…I can feel the power of his punches…I can feel all four knuckles through the gloves when he punches. As the round ended I staggered back to my corner. I thought to myself…this is the price I pay for not training hard before the fight. But little did I know that my opponent didn’t train hard enough either. The Referee went to my corner and yelled, “You have to fight back next round or I’m stopping the fight.” I nodded. My coach poured water on me…this was a nightmare. “Listen. I need you to listen like you’d never listened before!” my coach yelled. “You okay?” I nodded. “You lost the last 2 rounds…” I knew that. “Don’t worry about the last two rounds…it’s a totally new fight now…use that head movement and move to the right like we did in training and make him pay for missing. Press with that jab.”
Third round, he’s got his timing down, his rhythm going steady and established his distance already…something every fighter must complete during the opening rounds and I have yet to complete one. This round was a bit better, I kept boxing and moving. Hit and run. I used my head movement just as my coach laid out. He wasn’t hitting anything…I could see frustration in his eyes. I tried to grab me and throw me to the ropes once again but I stepped back and countered with an uppercut of my own. The sound of the bell marked the end of the 3rd. Now I’m back in the game. “Good job son! Don’t let him touch you create distance with that jab as he’s coming toward you…give me an angle…all he’s doing is stalking and stalking you…that’s too predictable. Stay away from the ropes…you don’t belong there!”
Round four was underway; probably the most exciting round of them all. We both come out quickly eager to engage. I continued to counter on his punches that he missed. He was eating left and right straights left, right and center. I got a little over confident and let my guard down. He capitalized on it…he grabbed me and pressed me up against the ropes and dragged me into the deep waters. He landed a 1-2-3 combo clean on my face. The crowd went crazy…thinking Terrell was about to put me away. The pain instinctively caused my knees to bend and try to touch the floor which would have count as a knock down. I’ve never been knocked down before…never wanted to. I drive my heels down hard to bring myself up. I pushed my opponent as my life depended on it and followed with a 1-2 combo to his body and took the centre of the ring. I dropped my hands and motioned “Bring it on!” The crowd of just over 5,300 all stood up and roared. They were in for a good fight…at least they thought up to this point. Then all that was taught in training went out the window…I didn’t wanted to box anymore…I wanted to brawl like him. I took a beating from him the first three rounds. It proved to everybody here that he was a world class rough and tough brawler…but I wanted to prove to everyone here that I was even better than him at his own game. So we both went after it. It was a total scrap…he went after it and so did I…toe to toe. Non stop action…he hit me and I hit him back and forth…the type of fight everyone wants to see. At one point I crushed him with my right straight and he dropped to the canvas like a sack of potatoes. It was a curse in disguise…it helped me score points and win the round but I heard a snap on my elbow. For the rest of the fight, I couldn’t use my right hand. He got up unfazed and was ready for more. It was stupid; I didn’t work hard enough on my cardio to have the stamina for a bout like this and I was wasting energy brawling with him. By the end of the round I was physically exhausted and so was he.
From round 5 to 12 was a boring fight…he kept grabbing me to catch his breath and I didn’t try and get him off me because I was winded and needed to catch mine. By the 8th round, the boos filled the arena. And by the 11th and 12th round people were leaving. This was not the type of fight I’m use to putting out.
I won the split decision. As the announcer interviewed me after the fight...because I put up a boring fight, they kept booing me even while I was talking…got me a little worked up but tried not hide it. I apologized to the fans for a boring fight and promised a better outing next time…
When asked about my injury, I said, “I’m going to work my ass off until this ride is over. It’s something that I’ll deal with but don’t feel sorry for me; I’ll be back stronger than ever. Although this sport might have dealt me this injury but feelings toward the sweet science is pure and passionate. I’m not gonna let this injury take me over…”
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
The Hype...
“Thank y’all for comin’…ya’ll got yourselves an explosive fight tomorrow…it’ll be thunder vs. lightening…don’t blink…I’m gonna punch Kelton’s head off into the third row…I hope someone’s there to catch it.” The media and sports journalists responded with laughter. Terrell (nicknamed the “Hitman”) continued, “I thank Kelton for taking this fight. It’s good to fight someone that has a physique that is almost as good as mine…so ladies y’all might wanna check this fight out and watch two good gentlemen with good physiques go at it.” Once again the journalists responded with laughter and applause as Terrell finished and took a seat beside the podium. I laughed too…he’s not just a good fighter…he’s a great entertainer as well. It was my turn to walk up to the podium and say a few words to the media. “Good evening, it’s great to be in Las Vegas again. Terrell says he’s gonna knock my head to the 3rd row…we’ll see bout that…I just push my talent to the limit and they can’t stop me…” I turn and look to Terrell’s direction. “And neither can you…Thank you all very much for coming.” The crowd erupted with “ohhh”, laughter and applause. They were in for a good fight (at least they thought so) and some heated pre fight trash talk (which America loves…controversy). After we got grilled on a series of questions from the media, we squared off for the media to take pictures. All the flashes made my eyes hurt and when I blink or close my eyes, I see the flashes too. When asked if there were any final words from Terrell, he said “come may 22nd you’ll be uncrown with you’re head hanging down…in pain and stress left to confess… that the Hitman’s the best…so let’s make it simple and plain, after this fight Kelt will never be the same.” Any Poet knows that word choice is essential while any boxer understands that promotion is a fact of life for a big fight. The cheerful promotion may be essential but it belies the harsh reality that awaits us in the ring…a reality that no choice of words can hide… “So get your tickets peoples…cause the Kelton ass whooping is almost here…”
The opening belling is just 24 hours away….
The opening belling is just 24 hours away….
Friday, August 21, 2009
Bad Left Hook
A lot are scared to put their blade or soul into any type of furnace
They never want to be the one to stare down an opponent
You only live one live you only once
What would u say was your mark on the world??
Distractions has steered me to the path where I was told not to go through…late night hanging out with strippers and people whom I shouldn’t being hanging out with. Neglecting the hard work and discipline I’ve manifested over the years…forgetting how hard it was to come thus far… I know taking that casino night shift wasn’t the greatest idea…I know I’ve made my mistakes
I know my backs up against the wall every time I fight…that a loss could put me back competing in small shows back in Toronto with as little as 50 bucks a fight. Plus I got a Sports Illustrated section coming out shortly after my fight…so it should be the greatest performance thus far in my life…
Everyone that knows me knows I hate to lose…the thought of losing drives me to do the next rep…the next round...
The loss 3 years age sparked a fire that still burns within me…but that fire seemed to have diminished the last month an a half...maybe through the last three years of success and winning in a spectacular fashion has numbed my desire to continue excelling…and be 1% better from the day before…it seems like I’ve lost my identity as an individual …as an athlete...outside my life I had a harder time dealing with it because I was used to seeing my opponent and understand it and deal with it that way whereas when my opponent became myself that was very difficult to me. Sure distractions can be the blame…but that’s a very immature to put the blame on things other than myself…I’m becoming a believer now…success takes you where character cannot sustain you. Seems like I lets everyone in my camp down my trainers, coaches and everyone who stopped by during their busy lives to watch and cheer me on through training. Most importantly I let myself down…I’m sorry…
I lay on my bed…I can imagine myself already…making my entrance to Kanye West’s song “Amazing”. As I walk out I keep my focus as I make my way to the ring and not get distracted by the fans cheering or booing and trying to grab me…its a very beautiful place to be inside the ring...so pure...so clean. There’s no illusions about it...there’s no lying in there...no deceit. Many people wouldn’t even put themselves in it with that chaos...fear...many would rather watch me do it...they're too terrified...they'd rather buy tickets and sit in the stands and watch me go after it
Just the other day we did the final acclimation to see how I’ll look in a 12 round fight and the results were utterly embarrassing…my conditioning was not there…I was physically exhausted by the 8th round…
My manager came back today with my fight shorts with my sponsors stitched on it. The after party that I’ll be hosting after the fight at the Red Rock Hotel & Casino has been booked with advanced tickets all sold out already too. Everything is ready to go except me. My manager talked about my opponent…he goes by the name Terrell 40-3…an impressive record alongside an impressive resume of 32 fighters he’d knocked out and sent to the hospital…My manager says that Terrell insists that its a mismatch and that he’ll give me a free trip to the hospital on the 22nd. He claims I lack the desire and hunger to win and be on top anymore…that my training lacks intensity…my punch power has faded…my footwork has slowed down and that my skills and techniques are now questionable if non-existent….from the recent tapes he’d studied of me. But the more I hear it’s a mismatch the more determined I am… does he believe all my punches are lamp punches…wide punches???...and that I only walk forward in straight lines if he really believes…superb! With limited stamina…our game plan is restricted. I must go for the finish in the early rounds…before my gas tank dies out but if he takes control of the first few rounds then I gotta back up and pace myself to successful counter punching and hope to explode through the later rounds…For once it’s a match I’m not looking forward to…
All in all…sigh…this fight I can’t say I can win but all I can say is...I’ll give it all a got…
They never want to be the one to stare down an opponent
You only live one live you only once
What would u say was your mark on the world??
Distractions has steered me to the path where I was told not to go through…late night hanging out with strippers and people whom I shouldn’t being hanging out with. Neglecting the hard work and discipline I’ve manifested over the years…forgetting how hard it was to come thus far… I know taking that casino night shift wasn’t the greatest idea…I know I’ve made my mistakes
I know my backs up against the wall every time I fight…that a loss could put me back competing in small shows back in Toronto with as little as 50 bucks a fight. Plus I got a Sports Illustrated section coming out shortly after my fight…so it should be the greatest performance thus far in my life…
Everyone that knows me knows I hate to lose…the thought of losing drives me to do the next rep…the next round...
The loss 3 years age sparked a fire that still burns within me…but that fire seemed to have diminished the last month an a half...maybe through the last three years of success and winning in a spectacular fashion has numbed my desire to continue excelling…and be 1% better from the day before…it seems like I’ve lost my identity as an individual …as an athlete...outside my life I had a harder time dealing with it because I was used to seeing my opponent and understand it and deal with it that way whereas when my opponent became myself that was very difficult to me. Sure distractions can be the blame…but that’s a very immature to put the blame on things other than myself…I’m becoming a believer now…success takes you where character cannot sustain you. Seems like I lets everyone in my camp down my trainers, coaches and everyone who stopped by during their busy lives to watch and cheer me on through training. Most importantly I let myself down…I’m sorry…
I lay on my bed…I can imagine myself already…making my entrance to Kanye West’s song “Amazing”. As I walk out I keep my focus as I make my way to the ring and not get distracted by the fans cheering or booing and trying to grab me…its a very beautiful place to be inside the ring...so pure...so clean. There’s no illusions about it...there’s no lying in there...no deceit. Many people wouldn’t even put themselves in it with that chaos...fear...many would rather watch me do it...they're too terrified...they'd rather buy tickets and sit in the stands and watch me go after it
Just the other day we did the final acclimation to see how I’ll look in a 12 round fight and the results were utterly embarrassing…my conditioning was not there…I was physically exhausted by the 8th round…
My manager came back today with my fight shorts with my sponsors stitched on it. The after party that I’ll be hosting after the fight at the Red Rock Hotel & Casino has been booked with advanced tickets all sold out already too. Everything is ready to go except me. My manager talked about my opponent…he goes by the name Terrell 40-3…an impressive record alongside an impressive resume of 32 fighters he’d knocked out and sent to the hospital…My manager says that Terrell insists that its a mismatch and that he’ll give me a free trip to the hospital on the 22nd. He claims I lack the desire and hunger to win and be on top anymore…that my training lacks intensity…my punch power has faded…my footwork has slowed down and that my skills and techniques are now questionable if non-existent….from the recent tapes he’d studied of me. But the more I hear it’s a mismatch the more determined I am… does he believe all my punches are lamp punches…wide punches???...and that I only walk forward in straight lines if he really believes…superb! With limited stamina…our game plan is restricted. I must go for the finish in the early rounds…before my gas tank dies out but if he takes control of the first few rounds then I gotta back up and pace myself to successful counter punching and hope to explode through the later rounds…For once it’s a match I’m not looking forward to…
All in all…sigh…this fight I can’t say I can win but all I can say is...I’ll give it all a got…
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Phase Shift
It’s been really busy the last month prepping for exams and preparing for my fight…
My lifestyle has changed dramatically…I’ve changed my schedule totally around…I’m completely nocturnal now…I wake up train for my fight...workout and head to work at the CNE casino from 10pm to 6am. I return home to study. It’s a routine I can never grow accustomed to…
On the days off I’d wake up at 6pm just in time to catch a meal with my parents…my breakfast…their dinner. Then I’d train with my coach…do my sparring rounds…pads/mitts….and all that good stuff…then I’d go to my local 24 hour gym and pump some weights. I’d be up all by myself while the rest of the world seems to be asleep.
It so happened last week I went to the 24 hour gym and the gym only had me and 3 other girls at around 4am. When our workouts were done, we sat down and had a chat...they were exotic dancers and were working out after their “work”. Anyways we exchanged phone numbers and they’d call me after work to hang out on my days off. They seem to be pretty cool people…very down to earth…which I would least expect from the trio of strippers…which totally changed my perception of them...
Little did i know that I'm getting caught up with work and my new found "friends"...that I'm not giving the respect for my opponent come August 22nd...
My lifestyle has changed dramatically…I’ve changed my schedule totally around…I’m completely nocturnal now…I wake up train for my fight...workout and head to work at the CNE casino from 10pm to 6am. I return home to study. It’s a routine I can never grow accustomed to…
On the days off I’d wake up at 6pm just in time to catch a meal with my parents…my breakfast…their dinner. Then I’d train with my coach…do my sparring rounds…pads/mitts….and all that good stuff…then I’d go to my local 24 hour gym and pump some weights. I’d be up all by myself while the rest of the world seems to be asleep.
It so happened last week I went to the 24 hour gym and the gym only had me and 3 other girls at around 4am. When our workouts were done, we sat down and had a chat...they were exotic dancers and were working out after their “work”. Anyways we exchanged phone numbers and they’d call me after work to hang out on my days off. They seem to be pretty cool people…very down to earth…which I would least expect from the trio of strippers…which totally changed my perception of them...
Little did i know that I'm getting caught up with work and my new found "friends"...that I'm not giving the respect for my opponent come August 22nd...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)