Photo By: Charlie Davis Illustration
Monday, November 4, 2019
Back stepping into the corner, Mahan of Pier III reeks the raging tussle at his feet. Beneath each breath responds a gutless cry. Jabbing in defense, the inner bull without sorrow attacks. Along his left elbow, rubs the ropes, which guides his vessel to parry a strike.
“Chin down, chin down, chin down,” yells grandma’ between her hands. “Roll Mahan, roll got-damnit.”
The deafening crowd erects each fighter’s stance. With every swing, smack or a miss, ricochet’s droplets of sweat out onto the judges’ scorecards.
Mahan’s trustee warns in doubt—it’s best not to cling. This also is the warning of what stays at bay. An opponent’s motive is never shown. Only a fool looks for it…
Like bamboo, roots grow first; observing its environment and learning what reacts. At the ten-second mark, clapping sticks triggers beast to drown him.
Rocking his hips, waving his fist, swerving as he dips, and protecting his chin, Mahan’s reaction arrives at the creation of ten black-holes near center ring. With his opponent caught in southpaw, he extends his right glove, and it meets the upper left cheek bone, placing his opponent’s ass down onto the canvas.
Fighting for the respect of perseverance, the battle teaches him it’s not a win where you get respect. The moments where you earn it matter most.
On average Mahan loses round one through five. He’s known to knockout after six.
And that’s all I care to say about my bamboo fighting fool.