Pride

Seriously, this guy was really starting to piss me off. It wasn't that he was a jerk or anything, quite the contrary actually. He hadn't said a word, but he was looking down on me, demeaning me. No one does that to me. Never.

People were all around, watching as the next round started, and every one of them had some tip or another to shout out to one of us. Do this, do that, people are brilliant when it's not their ass on the line. I'd love to see just one of them get up here, take a kick capable of shattering boards like nothing a few times and see how well they take their own advice.

I quickly checked my gloves before the round began. Damn things were old, well worn from years and years of use. When the ref got out of my way, I shot forward, and felt my kick connect with his stomach, which was more satisfying than I can possibly describe. He rocked back and I pressed my advantage, getting a good punch in just to drive the point home.

No one, and I mean no one, looks down on me.

He was surprised, no doubt. I hadn't done much last round; rather I focused on defense and let him tire out trying to hit me. I was in better shape, and my defense was second to none. I was complimented on it by one of the best in the country, actually. I'm a hard guy to get a good hit on. But now it was my turn to be aggressive.

I attacked again, getting a few good hits on him, before his fist came down hard, hitting me square in the face. I stumbled back a little, and barely dodged the follow up shot. He was a big guy, bigger than me, and that's saying something. He was able to bring his punches at a downward angle, whereas I needed to fire mine at an upward angle. As a result, his were much faster, and more powerful than mine, and doing a lot more damage.

One shot was alright, no big deal. I let him come again and quickly countered with a kick, but he brought his elbow down hard, striking my shin and blocking the kick. Shin pads are great and all but there comes a point where they just don't matter much anymore. This was such a point.

I went for another kick, but I was just a fraction slower due to my now severely bruised leg. I paid for that lack of speed with a punch that knocked me quite literally senseless. I lost my vision as everything went blurry, and my hands dipped just slightly, leaving me open for another shot. A rookie mistake, not a mistake I make.

But I did, and suffered another punch as a result, and this one struck the bridge of my nose, breaking it. Needless to say, it hurt.

But I don't fall, and I don't stop. He came again just as I got my vision back and I got him just as hard as he hit me, knocking him back a few steps and keeping him away.

Round over. He took the gold medal while I settled with silver.

I lost, but this wasn't about winning. It was about proving one very important thing. Fight me, kick my ass, break my face, it doesn't matter. But if you look down on me, demean me, insult my pride, I'll never stop coming at you.

Pride is a double edged sword, no question, but one I'll wield until the day I die.