The Boxer

The Boxer (2009)
9"x5"x4"
Bronze edition of 5

photograph by Phil Holland www.PHFX.com

The Boxer

It was a hot summer night in 1986 and I was losing the Somerset Court Cruiserweight title fight. My opponent was Koquis, a ruthless fighter with a wicked left hook and a rock chewing smile. I had devised a plan that was failing miserably and was contemplating letting him tire out by beating me to a pulp. I was tired and wanted to quit. One of my gloves flopped awkwardly. The eighth round brought a barrage of punches that can only be described as a rain of fire and torment; I went down. I wanted to stay down, I wanted to go home, and I didn’t want to fight ever again. I wiped the sweat and blood away from my eyes as I focused my vision and staggered to my feet. The referee asked me if I could continue. So I looked to my left for guidance, instructions, someone to throw in the towel and found no one. In my despair, luck couldn’t have had better timing. I looked to my right and found the only thing that could get me out of that hell: inspiration.

Her name was Angela, and she was the court manager’s daughter. Her eyes were a piercing ice cold blue and with a glance she could turn a desert into a blissful winter wonderland. She had dark hair, fair skin, and a smile, that would make you turn the deed to your house over to her. She was seated near Koquis’ corner and as the ref asked me if I could continue, I saw her smile up to him. Koquis returned a smile full of rotten teeth, bad breath, and purple gums. Jealousy and rage filled my gloves and my stomach knotted up so tight a chainsaw couldn’t have cut through it. My senses stiffened, my vision sharpened, and my body numbed. I told the ref I was ready. I was filled with anger and poise as I shuffled towards him. He was expecting me to retreat so he rushed me for the kill. I stepped in with a cork screw jab. I dropped a straight right into his gut. I felt the wind come out of him and his hideous mouth trembled. He threw a straight right back at me and I parried outside to the left. He then threw a wild left; I ducked under, stepped to right, and came up with an uppercut. I saw his knee buckle as he tied up with me and he was not yet aware that the wind had been knocked out of him. I held on and dragged him towards the center of the ring and in that split second I heard the awkward silence of the crowd as they tried to register what was happening. I dropped a shoulder into his chest as I side stepped to the right, pivoted left, and delivered an overhand right straight down on his nose. He dropped, his nose was gushing blood, and his teeth gnawed the sky for air. The crowd went hysterical as they saw their 7 to 1 favored champ wither in pain. I walked back to my corner with adrenaline rushing through every vein in my body. I wanted him to stand up, I wanted him to come at me, and I wanted to destroy his wretched mouth so that it may never smile at her again

The bell rang, the crowd cheered, and I was lifted up on the people's shoulders as the belt was handed to me. "You beat him, You beat him" they shouted. "You're the champ, You're number one. We knew you could do it." There were many good fights, but none as good as the fight from summer of '86. Nothing will ever come close to the moment in which I won the Somerset Court Cruiserweight title belt, looked over to Angela, and saw her smiling back.... at me.