46. Jude
46
jude
I nhale. Count to ten. Exhale. Count to ten. Inhale. Count to ten. Exhale.
The roar of the crowd rumbled the arena, pulsing through the locker room. Alex rubbed my arms and legs, keeping the blood flowing through my muscles while one of the organization’s staff taped my hands.
My fight was next.
Charge like a bull. Fight like a bull. Stay on the ride, and don’t let it buck you off.
It was the mantra I had on repeat every fight until I stepped into the cage.
“You’re up, Larsen!” someone with headphones and a clipboard announced at the door of the locker room.
“This is it, man,” Alex said, handing me my gloves.
I stood, adjusting my shorts one last time before pulling on the gloves.
I nodded, too busy trying to stay calm and focused to speak.
With my corner at my back, security on either side of me, we walked down the dark hallway to the arena entrance. The din of the crowd grew, cheering for my opponent, who now waited for me in the cage.
I took one last, deep breath before the doors busted open.
The lights in the arena lowered, leaving a spotlight streaming across the crowd in anticipation of my entrance.
I waited, shifting in my shoes.
Then my walkout song, “Hooked on an 8 Second Ride” by Chris LeDoux, started to build until the electric guitar was blaring through the stadium speakers. The fans erupted. When the spotlight landed on me standing in the entrance, all I could hear was their screams.
The security in front of me started to move, and then we were walking toward the cage.
My vision tunneled, narrowing on Mike Reyes, who was jumping around in his corner, punching his fists in anticipation.
The distance to the cage felt like a mile while we followed the procession past arena seats, then around the press box where I spotted Jessica and the sportscasters. She gave me a subtle nod that said, “You got this.” I returned a nod.
Fight staff and the ref met us at the steps of the cage. They checked my gloves and mouth guard before running a hand over my shoulders and arms to ensure I hadn’t lathered up with Vaseline.
Alex was there, ready to shoot water into my mouth one last time and take my shoes before I jogged into the cage.
The announcer stepped into the middle, announcing Reyes as the challenger and me as the champion. The ref asked if we wanted to touch gloves, but I think we were both in the mindset that we’d rather just grind it out, so he directed us to our corners.
I continued to hop around, keeping my body warm while I focused on my breathing, dimming out the noise of the crowd to zero in on my coach in the corner.
“Stay loose. Remember your training. Focus on the ground and pound!” Alex was yelling from the other side of the cage.
I nodded, but I didn’t take my eyes off Reyes. He was mean-mugging me while he hit his fist into his palm. I was ready to level that ego.
The ref stood between us, watching the clock. I brought my hands up to my fighting stance, shifting on the balls of my feet. Ready for this. Grinding my teeth into my mouth guard and breathing out through my nose, I waited like a windup toy ready to spring.
“Fight!” the ref yelled, his hand cutting down to signal the start of the round.
This was a championship fight. Five rounds. I needed to last five rounds. I wasn’t going to push it in the first.
Reyes met me in the middle of the cage, his hands up. For the first few seconds, we both threw faints, testing one another. I wanted to see how far he would reach, what he intended to throw. Lowering my stance as we circled each other, knowing Reyes would take a higher stance as a Muay Thai fighter. He did just that, protecting his face while he threw a knee, thinking he could catch me beneath the chin.
Instead, I faked a shoot. Assuming I was going for a single-leg takedown, Reyes threw a knee. I grabbed it. Taking him down against the cage.
Reyes immediately threw up his guard, and I started raining down fists. I knew I didn’t want to gas out with four rounds still ahead of us, but I wanted to hurt him enough to wobble his confidence. He needed to be knocked down a few notches, be reminded why I was the champ and that I had the experience to back that up.
Reyes threw up his arms to protect himself. He crunched forward as if he was trying to sit up. I threw another punch, but he wrapped his hands around my left wrist in a kimura lock.
Shit!
I could barely hear Alex yelling in my corner over the rumble of the arena.
I did as I was trained, grabbing ahold of my shorts with my left hand to battle against the lock. If he got this, he could crank my arm behind my back and rip my shoulder to shreds.
I buried my right arm beneath Reyes’s head, holding on for dear life to keep him from locking up my arm. I think he realized he wasn’t going to pull it because he shrimped out of position, creating distance to get us back up on our feet to face each other.
Deep breaths. Adrenaline pumped through me. I felt good. Strong.
I charged forward, throwing a flurry of one-two-one combinations. He caught one on his cheek, opening him up.
The cut seeped red.
That’s when I backed him up against the cage.
Reyes covered up while I continued forward.
I barely saw it coming … Reyes was already swinging a Muay Thai round kick. It landed just above my right knee—the knee with too many surgeries. Biting back a scream, I crumpled.
Reyes saw the opening to take me down, rushing forward to capitalize on my hurt.
The bell rang.
Saved by the fucking bell.
“Fuck.” I grimaced, pushing myself up.
Hobbling to my corner, Alex pushed me down on the stool.
“My knee is dead.” The knee I’d spent months recuperating.
“Ice,” Alex ordered the rest of our corner.
Holding an ice pack to my knee, he knelt in front of me. Someone else in my corner pressed ice to my chest and neck.
“You caught him, Jude. Hold that ground and pound. Get off that knee and circle away from his power,” Alex coached. “Circle away from those kicks.”
Round two began with me shuffling forward, but I was slow.
My knee was killing me, and I really hoped I didn’t just ruin the surgeon’s work.
Reyes charged, throwing a teep kick, the ball of his foot jabbing me right in the solar plexus. The wind left me in a whoosh.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This guy is relentless.
I allowed Reyes to back me up against the cage, buying myself time to recover. He began throwing combos, while I covered up to catch my breath. My head was down, my arms up to protect against the blows. Reyes’s leg was open for the takedown.
Now was the time. Recovered enough, I went for a single-leg takedown.
With my arms wrapped around his leg, he was hopping on one foot.
It didn’t stop him from punching the side of my head. Each hit reverberated pain through my skull. I had to give it to him; the kid had incredible balance. Hopping on his right leg, he was still able to knee me in the face, opening a cut above my eye.
Now I was the one seeping red.
I needed to abandon the takedown for now.
I backed away. Reyes went in for a flurry. He may have thought he had me, but the blood dripping in my eye only focused my rage. I was known for charging in, so I did just that.
I charged him, using the double-leg takedown, swooping him up in a fireman’s carry over my shoulder. The years of carrying calves over my shoulders was paying off. I carried him over to my corner, right where I wanted to be, and slammed him hard to the ground. Scrambling, I threw myself on top in a side mount.
“Go in for a big elbow!” Alex yelled.
I ground into Reyes’s face, throwing elbows. His nose crunched, and I knew I broke it. Reyes tried to buck out of my mount. But I kept pummeling. Cuts oozed above his eyes, and his cheeks sliced open.
But Reyes didn’t stop bucking. The slippery bastard bucked until he could sneak out the back. We scrambled back to our feet, tired and bloody, right when the bell rang.
I don’t know how I got back to my corner. My ears were ringing. Alex said something. My vision was narrowing. My eye was swelling. I could taste blood but was unsure of its source.
Grabbing my face, Alex yelled at me. What was he saying?
He continued to yell at me until the humming started to settle.
“What’s five plus three?” Alex asked.
“Eight.”
“All right!” Alex grinned. Why the hell is he grinning? Am I winning? “Avoid knees. Avoid kicks. Stick with the ground and pound. That side mount was excellent. Keep looking for takedowns. He’s hurt. I want you to capitalize on that.”
I barely noticed someone icing my face and stuffing Vaseline into a cut.
“You got this, Jude!” Alex exclaimed before hurrying to the corner out of the cage.
I returned to my feet, approaching the center. I barely noticed the ref announcing the third round, my sole focus on Reyes.
I hobbled, protecting my right leg. It ached like a son of a bitch.
Reyes kicked out a few lower leg kicks, but none of them landed. They were just empty threats. But they accomplished what they intended. His kicks made me nervous enough to back away from him.
Reyes unleashed a big, sweeping leg kick, but when he swung into it, he gave me his back. My training knew this opening. I grabbed him from the back, wrapping my arms around him. And in one great, arcing motion, from my toes to my arms, I threw another slam. Reyes landed on the ground on his head and shoulders.
“He’s dazed!” I heard Alex yell.
Reyes attempted to roll away from me, but I pounced, raining blows down on him.
Call it, ref. I was silently pleading as I landed punch after punch.
I wanted it to be over. I could feel my adrenaline draining. I was so damn tired. I couldn’t keep this up for another two rounds. This needed to end here.
“Arm bar!” my whole corner is yelling now. At least, I think it’s my corner.
I switched positions to get the arm bar, but Reyes started sitting up into guard, throwing his knee to my tailbone. I hissed in pain. The sting reverberated up my back.
Before I realized it, Reyes opened my guard and slid his left knee over my right to put me in half guard.
This wasn’t good.
I was just so tired. I panted, trying to regain my breath, any remnant of strength. I could go all day rustling cattle, riding horses, and stacking hay, but that was because I loved the ranch. I loved my home. I didn’t love this anymore. It wasn’t worth the blood, sweat, and tears. Even if she wasn’t there waiting for me. I wanted to go home.
“Get out of there, Jude!” I was so tired, I even thought I heard her voice yelling at me through the noise.