Written by castor :: [Saturday, 30 December 2017 15:39] Last updated by :: [Saturday, 30 December 2017 17:48]
Fighters often sat along for a long minute before a fight-psych em up.
I was in the locker room-really a dressing room of the arena. Waiting. it was a large room meant for a hockey team. and its size and emptiness where echos. The showers where silly when i walked in.
The afternoon before we got into Saint Louis. i flew first class even thought it was only 2 hour flight which seemed superfluous but what are you going to do i didn't bought the ticket
the hotel had been nice, in a way a chain hotel in Saint Louis could be.
i woke up around 9, and spent an hour working out mainly stretches. Then a half an hour doing light cardio.
I watched tape for 3 hours though i didn't want to.
4 hours before i got lunch Really a late lunch.. then we drove here in a rented car.
They checked us in, which took a minute. I talked to the promoter a second and his people....
Now. It was two hours. I sent out my trainer my manager- i wanted to just be.
It was stupid after about 20 minutes.
I was alone in the comically large room, trying to think it over get into the mindset of how to do it, how to do this to fight her
It was still stupid after about 21 minutes.
Its cliche to think about how you got here, but well it was worth remembering. That there was a world out there that was paying good money-the total purse was going to be close to 33 million to see me get beat up. To see the prom queen get beaten up
Though technically speaking i was the runner up prom queen, which you know well bode well for my chances.
That had been me in high school. The kid of middle middle class parents in upstate New York. The kid who did well enough in high school, if she was mainly distracted by boys and clothes and a million things that now seemed quite silly in a locker room designed for an NHL Team.
I had been athletic to use the term. i had played through those soccer leagues that, kids do to high marks. I had been in a share of these room before-albeit smaller. in High School i ran track a bit, before i got bored with it, then went into crew-the kind of rowing people do in pairs.
Mainly preppy asshole kids, but well that wasn't quite me-well maybe it was but we had a decent program for it for a high school(we had a large long lake in town, and a bit of a tradition)
It left me with a pretty strong set of arms for a woman, and times good enough that a pretty good college didn't offer me a scholarship but when they told me to apply there, it was going to be a yes.
So i went.
That was what 7 years god.
So i went to college stayed with crew-but decided one night after a night the details of which are a little vague and weren't to bad in the scheme of things- i decided to take martial arts. About 8 months latter at an acceleratorious Dojo i had my first black belt(i would get 3), studied at a second and..
Also fell in something appraoching love with a guy. We got married his senior year my jr year, and when he got a job in Wall Street i quit college to follow him
18 months latter we where divorced.
I didn't want to focus to much on Bill, i didn't want to. Somewhere there's a cliche of the woman fighter who gains strength from her pain of her man. And it wasn't anger i felt towards him as such-but shock. We hadn't had a good marriage. He got a job as said that took a lot of time-like 90 hours a week for god knows why-maybe there was was wine woman and song in there but he had a good work of disguising it-the more we talked the less we where fighting and less nothing. i tried my best to make him happy, but i dunno. The final straw was. We where going to buy a condo-and he was told that if we did means i would get 50% of the condo when we got divorced, so he didn't want to do that.
So we got divorced without much fight. '
5 months latter he commited suicide.
But there i was. during that time i had been the equivalent of a house wife. A housewife who had been that time worked out about an hour a day and went to an MMA gym 3 times a week. I looked at myself after it-i had options. Not a lot of job projects but some. i thought about becoming like a fitness model or some shit, but i was to short for modeling and like the stuff with contests didn't really pay shit. I thought about MMA, and after going to two amateur bouts .....well...
So i became an MMA trainer/Personal Trainer/MMA fighter. over the last three years as i went professional in the MMA Stuff, the ratios of how much that took of my time changed. I never got very far in the MMA training part-did some intro classes but people gravitated to the big men as opposed to the small women. Personal training i struck better at getting some good New York clients, but was told that i should keep getting more as people tend to go on and off it every year. By Last year i hadn't done a good job-but by this time i was doing well in fights-8-2 records that it didn't super matter much.
Tonight i was going to make 2.9 million dollars.
2.9 million to see me probably loose.
Almost certainly loose.
I shook my shoulders feeling the muscles knot up.
I had lost before obviously, but never with that certainty that mass that i would be a punching bag who would never be. I wasn't taking a dive like an old boxing movie, but in a way that would almost be better, almost more certain.
Loose. and loose in pain. Likely a lot of it.
She had started about a minute before me. Bechala Jackson. She had started up in the south for what that matters in this crazy sport, Atlanta. She had 15 wins all of which where TKO all but one of which in the first round. Now thats not terribly unusual. MMA is a sport where you can do that, find warm bodies and amateurs to build someone up for a payday against a real champ.
But she was the real champ. Number 10 had been the belt holder. She beat her in 34 seconds.
I had watched all of the fights all of them. Multiple times. Multiple times. The first couple of times i had been sick. Then a kind of strange bemused distance. then sick again, now when i did it, so close to being 16...it was kind of a bemused dread.
Her style was pretty simple. She came at you in a charge-almost a footballss tackle and clobbered you against the fence then brought you down, and beat you up till you fall. This was a pretty simple strategy, that there where a couple of ways to judo you way out of. These techniques where tried some times multiple times by her opponents.
They all failed pretty miserably. And quickly.
You could see an arc. In her first couple of bouts she had been a normal MMA fighter-which for women meant a little bit of punching to tied you, then judo them down. That was my normal strategy at least.
Her first bout was probably the one closet to actually beat her-she was raw and inexperienced, and you could see she didn't actually know that much. The opponent wasn't a lot better, but better. Till she connected with a punch in about 50 seconds that took 90 percent out of the woman.
And that was it.
The second bout watched that first one like i had and tried to avoid it-i mentioned only one match went to the second round. And then Bechala got her to the ground, and that was it.
Around 3 you could see the start of her strategy. the opponent got by missed the first charge. the second connected and that was it, in a bout that lost her several teach and nearly broke her arm.
And 4-9? Yep yep, yep yep-in bouts against increasingly skilled opponents all of which ended pretty quick. A good tackle, some attempts to get out of it. Failure. utter miserable failure. These where the people who tried to be smart, tried to use tactics. 5 she broke a leg, 7 Both of her arms. Both of them. 7 Had maybe gotten a little cute i think.
And 10 was the champ. At least it wasn't too gory.
Out of the ring she wasn't loud, braggat trash talking. she had a very precise way of talking. very clean and enunciated. She was Filipino American of about 5'6 who tended to look shorter then that. She was pretty but had the kind of face that's a little to wide, the kind of brown skin most people didn't realize quite existed. She was odd and never smiled. I watched all of her stuff many times-even the stuff out of the ring, and i never saw that. Even when she was congratulated after the fight it wasn't even cold and hard bitch-but not smiling.
Was she the heel? i am not sure. But people wanted to see her loose. And pay good money for it.
And now she was the defending champ, finding bodies to keep up fighting, finding people to give her enough of a challenge to keep going to the ring. keep...well...me. Until someone could beat her.
But I was pretty sure it wasn't going to be me.
There had to be a strategy. it wasn't like i thought she was smart. There had
There was a knock on the door.
Qhat the fuck....
And i opened it.
"Hello Sarah" said Bechala
Ahe wasn't dressed for the fight. though i suppose that was still about an hour or so away. some fighters don't like to till the last minute
"Hello" I could be angry but why at this point. "How did you get in"
"I tipped the guard at the door" said Becalla "cheep"
"Oh" i said.
"Cheep meaning enough to get A good TV Set" said Bechalla "money these days"
Before this We had talked for maybe 20 -30 minutes at this point at weigh ins in contract signings but never just alone. Always with someone between us. She had been..like she had been before. We shook hands a couple of times for the camera, put up our dukes-and that.
I looked at her. Did i hate her? it was an honest question. I think in the end...hate was a wrong word...but it was something i felt to her. "Why are you here?"
"Wanted to talk a bit" she said "before the big match"
Match. it sounded like where playing cricket or something.
"Sure" I said.
"This is a lot" she said "So much ain't it.
"So much god damm money. Went to the bank last year and the teller told me if i was to start counting the dollar bills in there, i would be counting for 1500 years. There was a day i worried about that for a soda"
"Was never that bad for me" i admired" But it was bad"
"You come from money?"
"I have been close to it" i shook my head "wouldn't say i come from it"
The thought occurred to me that this was the explanation. That this is when she slipped me money to take a fall, that this was it. If it was that was a pretty shitty thing to do after 3 months preparing.
"I try not to think to much of the money" she said after a bit "But you do, you do you do"
"I defiently do" Isaid "To much"
I realized also if i was getting 3 million for this fight no amount of money would really justify it.
"Your doing this for money, i am doing this for money" she said "Its all money after awhile you know. that's why anything happens. that's why the world spins"
"If your trying to pay me more to loose-the tricks not enough. been through to much, you should have done this months ago"
She looked at me, and if she didn't laugh it was close enough to a laugh to play it.
"That's howIi do it" she said "that would make sense. Like Wrestling. Pay to win. thats simple enough..Nahh that's not how i do it"
"I am sorry if i am insulting you"
"We all think it" she said "Everyone at some point-but well you been out there. In the ring"
"Your not nervous are you?" i asked "You of all people?"
"Me?" she said "No. I did want to tell you something”
"Win or Loose....and i have said this before so a grain of salt, this is my last fight"
"So not really"
"I want to say it out loud. to someone. And you. Your the only person whose like me-or closet to it. no ones like me. your probably more me then i am"
"What do you mean?"
"A warrior, a fighter, the person trying to kill me"
"I am not trying to kill you"
"That's a nice thought" she said. "And i guess true enough...but well you know"
"You don't like this?"
"I hate it" she said not quite meeting my eyes "Hate it"
I looked at her "i hate this moment"
She shook her head "Me-honestly this is my favorite momment. these little chats with someone otherwise whose there. otherwise this. i am not going to say i am fighting you tonight so we can have this conversation..but its there"
"That's pretty fucked" i said "make friends"
Now she actually laughed "That's what i am trying to do"
I shrugged "Your going to beat me half to death in about an hour"
"Yes you are right" she responded "Hell of a way to start something"
"Then don't bother" i said "I -didn't like you-but respected you where when this unstoppable murder machine-now your emotionally vulnerable millionare. Let me guess. You can't buy friends, your that smart, you didn't have many before, and you can't relate to them now. Got a man?"
"Do you want one?"
"Ever since this this started i have been as cold as ice down there"
She shook her head "You can read me but you understand"
"This fight going to make you rich" she said "Maybe your social..network is a little more equipped then this, but what are you going to do tomorrow?"
"I don't think about tomorrow on a day like this. only about whipping your ass"
She looked at me. i want to say it was smirking but it wasn't
"Well i wish you luck in that" she said "I don't think you can”
"I am not coming into this fight with this most detailed plan ever. after awhile i found that a waste of my time.No one can beat me. At least in our weight class. likely our gender. maybe anyone. i would fight men if they would let me. my promoter wants me to try that at some point in Mexico or some shit like that. may take him up on that. I could beat him. I can beat anyone now. That's how it works"
I paused. I thought of all three statements. All three i had hard time disagreeing
"Well then your right"
She paused and got up.
"I can go easy on you if you want"
I paused and thought.
"Give you a little bit of hope to show that you fight. maybe help you down the...
"No" i said "i don't want that"
"I respect my craft"
"I don't" she said "Its a fucked up business"
She paused and stopped for a second and walked towards the door. if she walked up then it would be it if not "you want to know how i do it?"
"How i do it" she said " i can tell you all about it, and it wouldn't help you. i could tell you all about it and no one would believe you"
I arched my head.
She sat back down" if you where to put like a bench press bar-you do those kind of weights obviously"
"Its my real strength" i said. its what crewing weight lifting gets you.
"How much you bench?"
"Impressive for a woman" she said "Especially of your build"
"I get by"
"I can do...1390...1390 is how much i can bench press"
I looked at her
"That's about what a compact car weighs, and i can lift them. certainly push them. and i can do it without a weight shirt any stupid tricks like that" she said pulling a bogey out of her eye" If i tried more, probably more, but i don't and its enough. Humans record is 1150. i am what....5 times 6 times stronger then you? Stronger then a strong man. plenty of men out there couldn't do 100. That's how strong i am. not just in my arms but in all over. When you try to move my muscle, it ain't going to budge, when i try to move yours its not going to stop. there's more. i feel...pain differently. It doesn't stop me. i cut my hand, and not notice it. its not real to me."
"So your a superwoman?"
"Thats a word" she said
"like an alien or something?”
"No" she said "No no. I told a doctor and he gave me some bullshit about how pain works, shit like that. It made sense to him once he did some studying. I suppose i should read more about it"
She stroked her hair "It happened 6 years ago i think. It was high school. do you want to know how it happened, the thing where the lightening hit me, the chemical bath that shit?"
"I got pregnant" she said "Nice enough guy i though to-he was older, not so older but to old to be sleeping with a high school girl. i got pregnant...around 7 months though, i got...i got ill like violently ill, and i got...like i couldn't feel anything. Anyway. i mentioned the sex thing. that's when its started. That much about anything. They kept me in a hospital for a couple of weeks, then i had my son"
I paused. I knew somewhere she had a son and.
"I love him" she said "i love him. But...after that happened..its like. its an intellectual love. I know I love him. I love everything-but it doesn't quite work. my memory is a little screwed up to. before it all happened i remember it-but its not the same. His father. Rick. He was good actually for like 3 years he was a good father, tried to help. But then his truck broke down, and he lost his job such as it is..and he left. I thought if i could get closer to him, he would respond more...but well water under the bridge i guess"
"That's fucked up"
"Yeah" she said "I am not right in the head. a lot of fighters say some version of that-3 fighters ago that was her gimmick if i remember...but yeah. If its hot or cold, or sweet or spicy-i can tell you-but it doesn't do anything. And i had...well super strength kinda, and it took me quite a while to figure that out-you know how in the comics you get a super power and a car comes at you the next morning
"No i don't"
"I have read a lot of comics " she said "It was moving furniture that did it. And it so it was. At first I thought it was cute, then he left, and i thought..how am i going to support this-go on welfare, become a waitress-i didn't have a lot of marketable skills. But well i had a gimmick. Thought about the Army, but talking to a recruiter he said that wouldn't make to much difference. talked about Weightlifting-that's obvious-but there's no money. Football for women ain't worth shit-but MMA....there's some money there. I never had been the athlete any time-but well i learned. i learned..And well..the rest you know"
"That sounds" i thought "Unbelievable"
"Does that matter?"
"I guess it doesn't"
"Then its all lies" she said and got up "Rick came back a couple of years ago. the best part of this, the best part was telling him off- really telling him off. that...that i think i enjoyed. power, the real kind. then he said he would come back with a lawyer for Marco. And that...well i wrote him a check."
"Fuck him" i said
"Thanks" she said "not the check really matters any more. I am fighting for a better life then my son growing up poor to immigrant family. hes going to get it thats not really a question, but if hes going to be the kind of kid who has a beemer or a yhatt. Hes 5 right now but i think hes going to like it, and i am glad for him. he doesn't really know what i am doing staying with an aunt"
"Yeah" i said "You got a fucked up life"
"Thanks" she said "Your pity means a lot"
She got up we wished each other a few more pleasantries and we promised to get lunch afterwards. AS she went i realized she really meant the last statement-the expression of pity was something to her-and I didn't know what to think about that.
I didn't know what to think about a lot of things.
I thought of the information she provided. Shes super strong. That would make sense. why nothing really worked-most judo depended on that little bit of physics that said a lever is weaker at the joint then the end-but if its not, well its not. She could tackle someone easy enough and you would not get up. and feel pain-sure.
I thought of that cause I suddenly felt an urge to win.
Somewhere in me. This was a challenged she was right, and it didn't matter much if she was or not. That was why i was here. not to be the chump who takes a fall, but to beat this challenge. And if i didn't try i wouldn't be fair to tomorrow for what ever that brought.
I Couldn't out box her. She would destroy me with a good contact, and i couldn't avoid that
I couldn't out kick her-the same maybe a little slower.
Grapple? Nahh she could fight it all out.
I couldn't win this fight. But as i sat in the locker room-it hit me.
If i couldn't win any dumb stupid thing i did in there wouldn't matter.
So well that was my only chance was to think of a dumb stupid thing.
The walk to the cage at least was a little fun. i heard a good cheer, a very good cheer as i did it, and i liked that. I was supposed to be emotionless cold-thats how the promoter wanted to sell it, but screw him i smiled a bit. When i saw him in the front row he was smiling at me, so i guess it didn't matter to much.
She was already there in the ring, per some werid tradition- looking blank-i didn't pay attentn as where the weird ring girls that women s fighting still had for god knows what reason, the announcer a guy who wanted to be Micheal Buffer but wasn't and the ref.
I had worked with the Ref before-which is yes something i do think about. He was an older fighter, Regan from the first wave of MMA that had a touch of a tremble, and muscles of the guy who was a little to worried about loosing them. i thought about what he would do-he tended to be very loose, in what he allowed. Which in some cosmic way was good if i managed to pull off this shit.
"And In this Corner from Mackasan New York weighing in at 126 pounds....Sarah Anderson"
Well yep yep.
I walked in and looked at her. i was actually it turns out about 2 inches taller then her-not that it made a huge difference. I looked down at her at that slight tilt of an angle. she looked at me, with that strange lack of emotion i had some idea about. Not real anger, not real fear-just the look that she was going to beat me.
The ref paused looked at me and her lifted up his hands.
She didn't just start. She stood paused and looked at me as if someone who hadn't bothered to watch any tape. Maybe she hadn't, just stood there raising her dukes enough, so i didn't make a charge. Maybe she was expecting that.
I watched her.
Then about 10 seconds latter she came at me, with probabbly the equivlent power of a light truck, enough to smash me whole dead, in a charge.
So i juked to the side about a second latter. The timing was suprisingly easy given our distance-but i did missing her by about 6 inches as she flew past me.
I turned around quick enough to see her just about hit the cage wall.
I kicked her back-if i aimed 6 inches higher it would have been a foul-not that i particulary cared-but i wasn't interested in that-the motion forward pushed her headfirst int the cage hitting her forhead-which was legal.
That said if she felt it as she turned around she could have fooled me.
she looked at me paused....and ran at me agian
I ducked past this one this time, but as i turned around i couldn't get another blow in. she was standing there to fast. i was able to see her turn around and go again.
This time, as i leaned down, i put a leg down and felt contact with her. just my leg, her leg but her-and i felt her awesome strength, her power-it felt like the time i fell off a horse in mid gallop, and while it didn't break me or even hurt me-i was lucky then-it felt Big.
Big enough on my part however to turn me around nearly 180 degrees away from her turning a leg sweep into ia reverse. My legs felt okay afterwards but that was just a blow in itself
A blow that sent her sprawling to the other side of the cage, hitting her head agianst the metal.
I thought about that kind of power. When people talk about Adrenaline, that thing that makes you lift up cars, its not that it makes you stronger so much as release chemicals that normally you don't so you can;t feel it-she maybe released the chemicals all the time just didn't
Aah who the fuck cares right now.
I stood up before she did-a bit faster-and i think a normal straggly would have been to jump on her use this as my big moment
I stood there and watched her get up-and became aware of two things.
They where cheering. they where cheering very very loudly.
And two, despite lasting maybe a minute at this point my heart was going 2 million miles a minute-like i was running a Marathon, or nerves and steal. i wanted to puke real badly, but didn't. I wanted to do a lot of things but didn't as i kindly waited not even trying to look like i was going after her as she sat up and got to her knees
The first thing i heard was the scream, it sounded earth shattering like something out of a bad martial arts movie.
A primal scream
She was up and charging for me-and i moved out of theway, like a second to late hitting her shoulder hard. in the chest
That, that hurt.
I felt my lungs collapsing, my air knocked clean out of my body to kansas city
Well this was
But it was an awkard. i felt her left arm go around my side , but it failed to quite hook, it was loose as she moved forward, which means i moved at a diffrent angle then she-more like i ws moving 60 degrees to her straight ahead, which as we came tumbling to the ground. i landed beside her not under her, which was the key.
However i still lacked air which had been crucially observant to be important. i tried to breath in and couldn't for a second as she got up looked at me and was about to climb over
I raised an arm up as best i could and hit her in her face.
that bent her neck side to side. i am not sure it hurt her, but it did distract her-enough for me to roll away limply, as i address the damage
It felt like a blow, a non heads on blow, a fairly probabbly blindside weak blow in the scheme of things-had broke maybe a couple of ribs.
I couldn't take another one of those.
Hell this one i should probably stop
But as i got to my feet and she did the same-i felt a shock go over me, that werid shock when it doesn't actually hurt that much. Honestly at that momment, i didn't feel to bad-and i saw that on her face to, a face that was starting to get bruised and battered but wasn't looking to much in pain.
I wonder how mine look.
She however almost certainly looked fresher.
She moved to slug me punch me. i put up my fists to cover. as she hit them. it felt like my bone was breaking when she connected to it.
But i also felt that her bone to. her hand. but she didn't notice.
I stood up as she connected with my other arm, and layed one in punching her square in the face that she didn't bother to dodge.
I didn't aim for her chin or her nose but her forhead.
Her forheads that already suffered a lot of contact with the floor the cage, my fist.
And i felt blood splatter as i hit it.
She looked suprise as i moved away.
Blood was coming out now. It wasn't hurting her. it was confusing her though, confusion. thats what i was seeing thats what i was hoping for.
She wasn't human i told myself. Not in the normal way. So don't try to fighter like a human would respond. Respond like someone who wasn't expecting pain
But as i came up from behind confused i kicked the back of her legs and felt them buckle-it doesn't matter if you feel that or not, you suffer from it.
She fell to the ground.
I looked at her. it was still confusion to the blood to her eyes-still that-she wasn't suffering like that, as you or i..she was a monster.
I grabed her head and pushed it into the cage.
I did it agian.
And then it hit me. no she was. i was beating up this poor women. Thats what i was. this wasn't a
She grabed me and a second latter turned me over on my front to my face and was sitting on me in a ground and pound position.
Huh she did know a little bit about this
She lifted up her fists her mighty fists and i knew it was over-my one momment of tolerance-my one momment of humanity myself this is what my pain would be. and somehow..i deserved it. cause it didn't start there
And she punched.
And missed my head in an awkward strike to the mat next to me.
Then another grazing my cheek-breaking it open even. to bleed hard, but not quite
I garbed her arm as it stayed there, garbed it and pulled her over, moving with a sumersalt into an arm bar.
And i kept garbing pulling pressure on it, as she seemed to confused to try to do anything about it, to confused.
I saw the ref-she wasn't moving to tap out, she wasn't moving to end it, but i kept trying to apply it
And felt something crack.
I let go as i realized i had broken her right arm.
I rolled away to the edge of the ring, and slowly got to my feet-i felt woozy my self confused, and as air and oxyegon entered my face that felt like it never been as shock from my ribs, my chin, my arms..Everything hurt and i looked up at her.
Simply stand up.
It was clear she couldn't move her arm any more. but that didn't stop her. it kind of dangled she just stood up. This person who i thought was some kind of mythic ogre, some great beast...well she was a zombie
the ref went up to her, but she shook her head that it was fine, i am not sure if she spoke anything. i saw that the blood from the cut to the head had stopped covering her face in a bloody odd glow .
As I stood there she came at me-i looked honestly more in pity at this point-when her left came up and punched my face.
I flew across the ring-i flew, hitting the cage wall hard.
I have never remember feeling that much that much power-i was off my legs, my own head banging agianst the steel on the ground in a heep. Never that.
And that was her off .
but I wasn't out. I looked up at her. She was coming towards me, still akaward, I got to my feet a little unsteady as we stood across from each other. I realize I was bleeding now bad.
And then she moved for a charge.
I moved out of the way to her right, and garbed her.
Like a zombie i would have to take out the head.
Grabbing her right arm i pushed forward. she couldn't respond, not even move her left arm as strong as It was to stop me.
I pushed her into the cage agiian. my original plan
Head first. agian
Cause she could be the strongest person. the toughest person.
But around strike number four as i connected-no way a human skull could take that kind of force-even if she didn't feel pain. she would still feel the effects..still feel the concussions..still experience.
I drooped her unconscious body to the ground.
The ref looked at her.
Looked at me
And raised my hand.
And i became aware of an immense cheer in the stadium.
Afterwards i sat in my training room a quick minute. i sat. Drinking a bottle of champagne that felt oddly, inappropriate.
Doctors said i had two broken ribs, but patched them up as well you can which was not much, a lot of sore places. Her. She was taken to the hospital-though probably okay after a couple of months-cast on the arm, The head stuff-well those weren't good, but she could survive em. And probably wouldn't effect much of anything for her. When she woke up i am not even sure she felt it.
I had gotten 2.9 million. She got something like 15. And the way fights work even though i won i still got 3 and she got 15. Fair enough.
I had beat the conquering hero-and i knew. i knew while my next bout maybe i could get 10...probably that was the max. I wasn't the draw she was. the next one less, the next one less, until someone knocked me down. probably a real fighter.
But that suddenly didn't matter to much. i thought about retiring her and there.
I drank the sodapop wine, and a smile crossed my face.
Her? she maybe had a couple of movies in hollywood where her werid delivery wouldn't work. Maybe more rematches at less money. A rematch with me made sense. i thought about that.
I thought about tomorrow.
It would be sweet.