El Capitano II: At All Times

The referee gave his instructions "Fighters, I want a clean fight. Obey my commands at all times, protect yourselves at all times. Touch gloves and let's make it a good one!"

The bell rang, and the crowd roared with anticipation. The atmosphere was electric, and I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins. The first round would be crucial, setting the tone for the fight.

I started cautiously, circling the ring with a bounce in my step. I knew Michael had power in his punches, so I opted for a disciplined strategy, staying on the back foot and using my jabs to gauge his reach. The crowd watched in anticipation as we cautiously approached each other.

Michael wasted no time in trying to close the distance. He threw a powerful right hook aimed at my midsection, but I managed to sidestep and counter with a quick jab to his face. The crowd cheered as they witnessed the first exchange of the match.

I was sticking to my fancy footwork, dodging and throwing precise punches. Michael, though, kept attacking the body, that was the game plan, trying to slow me down. 

I feigned a left hook, and quickly set my right foot in range to come in with my first straight right of the night. 

"Eddie connects with a massive right hand! Impressive feint followed by a powerful punch," the commentator exclaimed.

In response, Michael unleashed a rapid series of punches, most of which I managed to block with my forearms. As the round progressed, it became evident that Michael was gunning for the knockout, but the aggressive approach also posed the danger of him tiring out and leaving himself vulnerable to a counter.

"Ten seconds, gentlemen!" the ref shouted, and for a moment, I glanced his way, redirecting my focus just in time to absorb a strong left hook to the ear. The impact rippled through my core, making me stagger backwards and eventually hit the canvas.

"Down! A massive left hook takes the big man down!"

I was fine, fully aware of my surroundings.

"Six!" the ref hollered, thrusting six fingers in my face.

"Get up, Eddie!" Brooke shouted from the corner.

I hadn't even noticed I was still on my knees. Placing my right foot just right, I stood up just as the bell rang to end the round.

The ref continued, "Eight! Are you okay?" He took hold of my gloves.

"Yes!" I answered firmly, locking eyes with him, though I could also see Michael sitting in his corner over the ref's left shoulder.

"Do you want to continue?" he yelled, met with a resounding "Yes!" from me. He let go of my gloves, pointed to my corner and gave me a slight push.

Brooke jumped into the ring and proceeded to give me two slaps. "Stay focused!!"

found myself grappling with thoughts I never expected. Maybe I could just take a seat this time; after all, the $6500 was already in the bag at this point.

Brooke's voice sliced through the noise, soft but firm. I was starting to register her words again. "...bend and twist from the hips, then sit on it. Got it?"

"Yeah," I responded, attempting to recall her initial instructions.

"Are you absolutely sure?" she pressed.

"One hundred percent!" I affirmed.

"Listen, I won't let you take unnecessary punishment," she asserted.

I spun around abruptly, meeting her gaze head-on. "Do not stop this fight!" I insisted.

"Then let's go," she replied, reapplying Vaseline to my ears.

I couldn't let Michael have his way; I had to dig deep and give it everything.

Turning back around, Kelly appeared intensely focused, her expression unwavering, and she gave a reassuring nod. It was a stark contrast to Andrea, who seemed on the verge of passing out.

"Right here!" Brooke declared, giving me a less forceful slap. "You're up," she continued, grabbing onto the stool.

I stood up, not having heard the bell ring.

"Round two, folks! It's all about how Eddie handles this round; he might just be on the verge of a knockout defeat!" the commentator announced.

I turned to look at him, if looks could kill.

Undeterred by the earlier knockdown, I stuck to my disciplined approach, using my footwork to create distance and working my jab to control the pace. Michael, sensing my recovery, pressed forward with a barrage of power punches. I remained elusive, avoiding his onslaught and countering with precision.

The round unfolded into a tactical battle – Michael was hunting for openings to unleash his power, while I remained composed, showcasing my boxing skills, each punch and maneuver drawing cheers from the spectators.

Midway through the round, I catch Michael with a sharp one-two combination, my jabs finding their mark. The momentum shifts, and I capitalize on the opening, landing a series of quick hooks and crosses. The crowd erupted in excitement as I took control of the round.

As the round drew to a close, I found my rhythm, landing crisp jabs and combinations. Michael, sensing the tide turning, became more aggressive in his pursuit. In a strategic move, he targets my body once again, landing a powerful left hook that momentarily takes the wind out of my sails. I grit my teeth, determined not to let history repeat itself.

As the bell chimed, his hands lowered in an instant, and seizing the opportunity, I swiftly unleashed a precise left hook, connecting squarely with his ear. The punch threw him to the ground.

"Hey! Hey! Hey! What are you doing!" the ref screamed grabbing onto my gloves. I cheekily stuck my tongue out at Michael, who was now rising, the fury evident in his eyes.

Advancing aggressively, he hurled a reckless right hook that narrowly missed the referee's head. The referee instinctively ducked and turned around.

"Oh! And it's descended into complete chaos!" the commentator screamed.

In a whirlwind, the ring became a stage for unexpected guests, individuals flying in from all directions.

Brooke swiftly entered the scene, seizing me by the waist and tossing me into the corner. She positioned herself defensively, standing just in front of me, pressing against the apron with her back, both her hands by her sides tightly locked against the ropes. 

I gave Michael a wink, and he reciprocated with a defiant smile, resisting the efforts of those attempting to restrain him in his corner. "Why don't you come over here, huh, you coward!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaotic atmosphere of the ring. The scene was tumultuous, with others in the vicinity appearing uncertain about how to respond to the unfolding situation.

Glancing to my right, my eyes locked onto James, whose face registered surprise. In an instant, that surprise transformed into a grin, accompanied by a nod. Breaking the stare, he shouted, "Let's go!" his voice barely audible amidst all the commotion.

I pondered whether roughing Michael up a bit might be my ticket to victory, perhaps even prompting a disqualification.

Brooke straightened herself, freeing me from the pinned position, and promptly directed me towards the stool. Grabbing a water bottle, she sprayed several splashes into my mouth. She glanced at the opposite corner and then turned her attention back to me. "Well done!" she exclaimed.

After what seemed like an eternity on the bench, the announcer declared that the fight would continue. Shortly afterwards, the bell rang.

The commencement of the third round was marked by a stern warning from the referee. "I need both of you to pay attention! Striking after the bell is a significant breach of the rules. You must adhere to the rules and respect the signals from the timekeeper. Any subsequent violation may result in a deduction of points or even disqualification. Let's ensure a clean and fair competition. Is that clear?"

Both of us nodded, with Michael appearing to have regained his composure.

With a rapid movement, the referee took hold of both our gloves, forcefully collided them, and proceeded to push us backwards, slicing through the air with his forearm to signal the continuation of the match.

I mimicked a kissing gesture toward Michael in an attempt to elicit a response, but he maintained his composure flicking his jab in my face.

Michael wasted no time launching powerful hooks, attempting to reassert his dominance. I maintain my disciplined strategy, moving with agility and countering effectively. As the round progressed, he changed tactics, attempting to cut off the ring and corner me. I respond by pivoting and sidestepping, using the entire canvas to maintain my elusive stance.

The crowd roars with approval at the display of strategic prowess.

In a bold maneuver, Michael lunged forward, driving the full force of his left glove into my midsection. The stabbing pain shot up my chest, I couldn't breathe. I held on to him initiating a clinch. He was trying desperately to break loose I held on, my entire weight now handing from his shoulders. There was no doubt – if I released my grip, I was going to hit the canvas, and I wasn't sure if I had the strength to rise again.

The sound of our heads colliding rang through the arena, prompting the referee to swiftly step in and separate us. A collective gasp emanated from the crowd, and the ringside doctor was summoned without hesitation. Above my eyebrow, a sharp pain intensified, accompanied by the trickle of blood down my face. Descending to the canvas, I grasped the reality of the situation – Michael had resorted to a head butt in a moment of frustration.

I smiled tasting the blood on my teeth. "What has that Idiot just done" I thought as I lay on the canvas.

I sat up, supported by Brooke's hands as the doctor started his examination.

"Three, three fingers," I responded.

While I receive medical attention, the referee issued a stern warning to Michael for the intentional head butt. The frustration was evident on his face as the referee deducted a point from his score. The audience voiced their discontent with a medley of boos, impassioned shouts, and a flurry of perplexing hand gestures, imbuing the arena with a palpably charged atmosphere.

The doctor indicated that I was fit to continue, and the referee approached, saying, "Take your time," while scrutinizing the cut himself.

"I'm ready," I affirmed, opening my mouth to accept the gumshield from Brooke.

She walked up to the referee, giving him her unfiltered opinions. "Listen, I don't want any of that dirty nonsense, alright! Anything else had to be a D.Q". She turned around and made her way out of the ring.

The referee nodded, a perplexed expression lingering on his face. "Time in," he declared, marking the resumption of the fight.

Taking my position at the center of the ring, Michael wasted no time and launched a potent left hook that unintentionally veered low, landing a low blow that left me doubled over in pain. The referee rushed in. The referee hurried in, signaling a pause in the action.

"Oh c'mon!" The crowd erupted with a mix of boos and gasps, as I struggled to catch my breath from the ground, coughing violently. "That's like the ninth time now or something," someone chimed in.

Through the tears welling up in my eyes, I noticed Andrea tossing the towel into the ring, and with remarkable accuracy, it landed right on the referee's face. I felt a sense of satisfaction as the tears began to flow freely.

Brooke's voice cut through the noise. "Listen to me Eddie, you've got to get up this isn't over!"

I shut my eyes, I was done, I couldn't carry on.

"This isn't done, but for now you just rest" she continued. 

I remained on the canvas for what felt like an eternity, the passing minutes accompanied by fading voices.

Eventually, Brooke returned, encouraging me to rise. "Get up, champ," she urged, tapping my side and positioning herself to help me up.

As I regained my feet, an announcement echoed through the arena about a two-point deduction. Turning to Mikaela for confirmation, I found her with the towel draped around her neck. "You'll continue," she declared, her eyes wide open, her certainty was evident. Over her shoulder, Coach McMahon shook his head, turned away, and began to walk off.

Kelly took charge, leading a verbally charged Andrea away from the scene. "I swear it's on you, Brooke!... This is all on you." "Look at me!" she screamed.

"Can you continue?" the referee inquired from behind me, Brooke responded.

"Can 'you' continue?" he questioned again, focusing on my face.

"Eddie! Don't do it!" Andrea's distant plea echoed in the air.

A decision needed to be made. Brooke awaited eagerly, anticipating the forthcoming words.

"Let's go!" I declared.

The referee gestured to the stool. "Get that out of the ring."

I drew in a deep breath, and Brooke's voice whispered in my ear, "...I won't let this go on past this round." Releasing my breath, I shifted my gaze to the screen above. There were 40 seconds left in the third round. As the sweat dried on my face, I felt a fleeting renewal, but the sensation dissipated with my first step, replaced by a wince of pain.

Glancing forward, Michael nodded, seemingly expressing remorse.

The referee signaled for the round to resume. I clenched my teeth once more on the gumshield and moved to the center stage.

Stepping out from his corner, Michael cautiously reached out his hand in a gesture that seemed to seek reconciliation with a fist bump.

There was no time to waste, I lifted my right hand, narrowly avoiding his extended one. There was no resistance in my elbow, I lowered my hand to my side. The sound of Michael's body hitting the canvas reverberated through the sudden hush.

Surveying his fallen form, I observed his wide-open eyes and slow breathing. Words escaped my lips, dripping with intensity. "Protect yourself at all times!"