As the timer went off, I immediately went into combinations, starting with the jab and cross, and following with either a hook, or a hook and cross. It was important to get used to opening up your opponent, and then landing some deadly shots. Combinations were important in opening your opponent up. If you only threw two punches, you were missing out on opportunities to knock your opponent out. With a four-punch combination, that chance was more likely, or you could at least have them running scared.
Throughout those three rounds, I threw everything I knew. I landed flying knees, spinning back fists, elbows, and roundhouse kicks. By the time the third round ended, I was dripping sweat and my heart was raging in my chest.
“Okay, Jet, you are with me this round on pads, and Brian, you continue on the bag. We will switch off when the round has ended.”
I faced my coach, and he called out the shots he was looking for. He wanted to see speed and power at the same time. I loved pad work; it was a lot of fun, but it was not meant as a rest. You had to work just as hard at impressing as you did on the bag.
The pop, pop, pop sound was all I could hear throughout the gym as it cleared out. There were always a few spectators who liked to watch the fighters train, but for the most part, we had the gym to ourselves.
The bell went off, and Coach turned to Brain, signalling him to come in.
“Good work, Jet, get back on the bag.” We tapped knuckles, and I headed in for another bag round. We continued this succession until we had done a total of 10 bag rounds.
“Okay, Jet, I'm going to take advantage of the fact that we have Brian working with us today, and focus on sparring. So let's take it light, we don't need any injuries before the fight. Make sure you work on your defense, Jet; don't just eat punches.”
He reset the timer for a three-minute round, and when it went off I moved in immediately, catching Brian with a four-punch combo. This was where I was going to settle any confusion he might have about Natalie. We moved around each other, and I slipped a couple of his punches and returned with a straight, hitting him square in the face. He caught me off guard with a low kick, and I missed checking the kick.
We continued on like this, each landing our own moves, but keeping things light. It was practice, not a real fight. Sparring allowed you to experience a fight without actually being in one. This was where you made your mistakes, where you were humiliated and then built back up again. It was here you worked your hardest, so that you wouldn't have to in a fight. There was no room for error in a fight, so you didn't want to make your mistakes when it was real. It was important to correct everything when you trained, so that you were a machine in a fight.
We sparred for four rounds before the coach stopped us.
“You guys did a good job. You're getting up there, too, Brian. You should be able to get your own fight soon.”
“Thanks, Coach. Hopefully all this hard work will pay off,” he said.
“Oh, it always does. Look at Jet. He's one of the stars of the show, and he's relentless in the cage.”
“Yeah, no kidding; he hits hard. You have a powerful right cross there, Jet.”
“Thanks,” I muttered.
“Relax for the rest of the
day, Brian,” Coach offered.
“Sounds cool, Coach, thanks for letting me train with you guys today.”
“Yeah, anytime.”
“See ya, Jet,” he waved at me, and I waved goodbye back.
“He's not a bad guy; he’s a decent fighter,” Coach said.
“Yeah, he's alright. Nothing to get bent out of shape about.”
Coach chuckled. “Okay, tough guy, let’s hit the weights, and then you are free for the day.”
He tapped me on the back of the shoulder and we headed to the weight area. I hoped that Brian got the message I had sent to him during sparring. Don't mess with me, guy.
Chapter Five
Natalie
I lay in bed, frustrated to no end. These days, school was getting the better of me, and I was once again stumped on a project. At the beginning of the year, all the professors had handed out the assignments for the year. So it wasn't just the drawing class I was struggling with. I was also assigned projects for my photography class, as well as my creative writing class. The creative writing project was the one that plagued my existence on that particular sunny Tuesday afternoon. The project was to create a story from scratch, not a particularly long one. It wasn't like I had to prepare a full-length novel, but I did have to create a story, and it could be fiction or nonfiction. I had realized throughout my creative studies so far that writing wasn't particularly my strong suit. Certainly I could create something marvellous if I put my mind to it, but it did not come naturally to me, as it did for others.
I looked up as my bedroom door swung open, and Julie came in, holding a mug.
“I brought you some green tea with lemon. Maybe it will spark some creative juices.”