The Fight

When I walked out of the ring, I was covered in sweat, my left leg was throbbing sullenly, and my arms hung like curtains that I couldn't summon enough wind to move. I oozed through the ropes, and a few people clapped me on the back as I tottered down the three steps to the ground. I nodded and smiled my way through the crowd as people politely complimented me on my defeat, and their respects slipped into my body like novacaine around a toothache that was irritating but according to the professionals wouldn't require surgery.

I was a little disappointed and somewhat frustrated as I left the party to shower and change clothes, but overall I just couldn't shake the feeling that the whole affair had just been rather anti-climactic. I wasn't pleased that I had lost, but it certainly wasn't an embarrassing defeat, or one of which I would have to be ashamed for the rest of my fighting career. I hadn't been knocked out, I had landed a few good shots of my own, and in fact I hadn't even sustained much damage, but I just felt that neither I nor my opponent had fought the fight that we could have.

For all three rounds, Craig (my opponent) had stayed mostly out of my reach, and when I came after him, he retreated, often dropping a quick outside leg-kick on his way out. Some of these kicks I checked, more I didn't, and I realized that I have a bad habit of ignoring strikes that I don't expect will do much damage, despite the fact that whether or not they hurt, they still make their way onto the judges' cards. It was these counter-kicks which did the only real damage of the fight, and which guaranteed Craig the win, and in fact were probably the most exciting part of the fight. We clashed in earnest very few times, and he usually retreated quickly, more than once leaving me swinging for the fences in unsuccessful attempts to land a solid blow. I was very frustrated by his strategy, and I wish then and now that he had been more willing to directly engage as I had expected him to, but I have to give him credit for developing a successful strategy that neutralized my height and my reach, and sticking to it.

All of that said, I consider the whole experience of the fight to be extraordinarily valuable, both from a personal perspective and an academic one. Personally, I now feel a substantial difference in my bearing and confidence, and I think it comes as a simple result of withstanding the consciously directed violence of another person. Certainly, my fight could have been more ferocious, but I expect that a certain moment in it will remain fixed in my memory for a long time, somewhere between my first kiss and when I received my black belt.

The moment was after Phatet, one of my closest trainers here and one of my corner-men for the fight, poured the last of a cup of water over my head between rounds, patted my shoulder, and stepped out of the ring. I stood up, heard the bell, met Craig in the middle of the ring, kicked, was blocked, felt the counter land hard across my left thigh, and I darted forward with a jab followed closely by a quick, simple combination. Craig fell back immediately, bounced off the ropes, threw a loose jab that I dodged, and then turned and retreated a few more steps. All told, this clash is hardly an unusual one in the course of a fight, but I remember, as I saw him retreat again, ducking back quickly to avoid my hands, that he was afraid of me. I don't mean that he was cowardly, or unable to face his fear, but that this man, this trained fighter, didn't want to be in range of my limbs an instant longer than he had to be. He wasn't giving up the fight by any means, but he was afraid of me, and I knew, with a sort of frosty effervescence, that he should be.

As I mentioned, I've been frustrated by the result of the fight, but overall I just feel that it wasn't what it could have been. I certainly had a respectful fear of Craig's capacity in the fight as well, and I failed to push hard enough through the match to disrupt his well thought-out game plan. I am frustrated, I am disappointed, but there remains that abiding sense that I have now stood against exactly the type of person who has intimidated me in the past. Craig is stronger than me, he is more aggressive by nature, he places more value on public displays of strength and masculinity (he flexed for the crowd and fondled the ring girls between each round). I always knew that I would be afraid when I had to face a man like that violently, which is to say in an environment and with standards which he so values, but there's something that makes my shoulders sit higher when I remember that of course I was afraid, but after the first round, so was he.