The next day when I got to the venue, I met up with Amir, Brittney, Kevin, and Andre. (from the left, Andre, Amir, and Kevin. Brittney was too hot for the camera! I hope she forgives me for not having her photo in my blog.) Andre is George’s son. I didn’t really know what to expect from George. He had a great reputation but I didn’t know what his personality was like. He had been described to me by a few people as a Silverback. A Silverback is a huge, Alpha-male gorilla whose seniority is indicated by the silver fur on his back. George has a silver streak in his hair. A Silverback will tear the face off any in the pack who act up. That is pretty much George in a nutshell. He won’t tolerate any bullshit. George is very reserved, he doesn’t bully or carry on; but when something needs to be done, George talks, and people listen.
Wikipedia says, “Silverbacks are the strong, dominant troop leaders. Each typically leads a troop (group size ranges from 5 to 30) and is in the center of the troop’s attention, making all the decisions, mediating conflicts, determining the movements of the group, leading the others to feeding sites and taking responsibility for the safety and well-being of the troop.”
When I met George, I was a little nervous. Amir, Brittney, Kevin and Andre were all personable and I could tell I’d like them right away. I met George, introduced myself, and he said, “Shit, I didn’t know we were going to have to take care of you too.” I called Chike. “I don’t think this is going well,” I said, “is George always like this when he meets people?” George is skeptical of you at first, but if you show him that you are not going to waste his time, that you are earnest, he will go out of his way for you.
I spent most of the day eating, drinking gatorade, and napping in the warmup area. It was cold in the hotel. Every time I’d wake up I was nervous again because I didn’t know which fight was on and when I would be up. I was 45th. After a while, I didn’t want to eat anything, but I had a chicken sandwich in the food court with the rest of the group. I should have eaten more. When I got my gloves on for my first bout, I was starving.
I had a bad case of nerves. Last fight I was sick as hell, felt horrible and weak, and it went pretty badly. George kept telling me not to think about how it went last time. Gary Mack, the sports psychologist, says that pressure only exists in the future or the past; not in the present. If you are feeling pressure, it's because you are thinking about the past or the future, and not on the task at hand. I tried to keep thinking about that. Then I would think about how disappointed Chike would be if I had to call him up and say I'd lost, and I felt like puking. Then I would think about what I was supposed to do. Then I would just try to clear my mind. George kept reassuring me and helping me get my mind right. Having George tell you it will be alright is like having your dad tell you that when you are 2. You just believe him. He's confident. No nervous energy comes off him. He is relaxed. He is going to help you do this.
My first opponent was Liz Viramontes. I knew from the site postings that she had dropped down from the 140-150 class. I was expecting to see some kind of giant ape-woman, who had cut down to 150, and then cut down to 140. (It later turned out that she just really hates dieting and walks at 145, the same weight as me.)
I don't remember how the first part of the fight went, except for 2 things, which are both results of my having a terrible ref. First, I took about 5-6 knees to the groin. At the end of the round, I told the ref, and he ignored me. I told George, and he yelled at the ref. The ref tried to ignore him too. "HEY! Did you hear what I just said to you?" he roared at the ref. "Yes, sir," the ref cowered. He warned my opponent about low blows. Second, my opponent clinched me against the ropes at one point. I had inside position but I could not turn her no matter how hard I tried. "Get off the ropes!" George yelled. I realized that she had both gloves firmly around the top rope on either side of me. The stupid, incompetent referee was doing nothing about it. She finally let go when she realized what she was doing. Not a peep from the ref.
I remember George yelling at me to be first with knees. I guess I thought that meant I was doing a pretty bad job, and then my stomach felt like a stone. At the first interval, Amir told me we'd won that round. That made a huge difference for me. "Really?" I asked. I felt a shot of confidence. I would crush the next two rounds, I decided. During the warmup, George had said that my punching looked good, and decided we should use that to our advantage. "You don't punch like one of those cat-fighters," he said, illustrating what girls usually punch like by flailing his hands a little, "so when you get her in a corner, I want you to get ugly. Throw a lot of punches." That is what I tried my best to do. I tried to keep my opponent on the outside, but she was really, really aggressive. She really really wanted to beat me. Too bad I wanted to beat her more. We clinched and I threw knees as hard as I could. I could feel the life go out of her a little each time. She was making painful noises with each time I connected. It became easy to pull her head down. When the ref broke us, I threw straight punches. Blood dribbled from her nose but she refused to slow up any. Damn. What would it take to put this girl down? She was really taking a beating but refused to show it. I started to question myself a little. I connected with a hard 1-2. More blood. Then, the grand mistake. She started to show fatigue. She was breathing hard and loading up on all her strikes. She made a loud noise as she threw her right hook directly to my jaw. I felt nothing. Finally I was excited about what I was doing. It was fun. I wasn't worried about losing anymore. I rained straight punches onto her face. Blood squished out of her nose onto my right glove. I must have stopped to admire my work, because I heard George yell, "Don't stand there and look at it! Do it again!" At this point I was hoping for a knockout. I believe it was only because of her incredible fortitude that it didn't happen. She simply couldn't be stopped, despite her obvious midsection and facial injuries. When I went back to my corner after the final round, George told me we'd won. It felt surreal. When the ref raised my hand and they announced me as the winner, I felt like I would blubber like a big baby. It was simultaneously the best and one of the saddest moments of my life. I wanted to see Chike in my corner. I had to call him right away.
I have a ton of respect for this woman for the strength and heart she showed. I felt like I really earned my victory. After the match, as I watched other fights, a pretty young lady walked over and congratulated me. "That was actually a really good job," she said, with earnest respect. She seemed a little surprised that I had done a good job. I was confused, and thought that maybe she was from a lower weight class. I asked if she was in the 120-130 division. She looked taken aback. Had I guessed her weight too high? Then it dawned on me. "You're my opponent, Liz Viramontes!" I felt like a giant ass. "You look totally different now," I stammered, "I mean, you look like a regular hot girl. In the ring you looked pretty mean." It was true. When the ref had us touch gloves, I've never had anyone give me the evil eye like she did. It was particularly ballsy as she had to look up at me to do so. We chatted for a little while and she suggested we get drinks after the finals. I said that would be awesome. We never did get together since the fights went so long into the evening Sunday, but maybe someday we'll throw a few back.
My friends' fights! They all did superbly. Amir crushed a guy's leg with his right kick. I mean, this guy's leg was f'd up! When he went back to his corner you could see him trying not to stand on it. I wonder if he's been checked out by a doctor. I'll bet he has some ligament damage. In another match, he beat a guy who was pretty good, a guy named Daniel Kim. For some reason this guy seems familiar to me. I wonder if he was in WKA's. Amir did a little showboating just for fun. I though it was obvious he was just relaxing, having a good time. He wasn't trying to diss anyone. I guess some people took it differently. I think he feels bad about it now.
Andre looked good against his opponent. They were both aggressive and threw a lot of clean, hard shots. It was pretty much nonstop action.
Kevin, our little brother, had only been training for 4 months at the time of this tournament. He reminds me of the main character from Avatar: The Last Airbender. He is a good kid with a huge heart, and a lot of moxie. (Yes, I am old-timey.) His opponent found a hole in Kevin's game- his stance was narrow. He went for the sweep over and over. I mean, hard sweep. Each time Kevin's body smashed to the canvas he got himself back up and continued to bring his A-game. It was like watching a movie.
The coolest thing happened as we were leaving the venue.
Our group walked out, George at the head of the line, and we passed a bench. A young girl about 14-15 years old was smoking a cigarette. "That's not cute," he said, pointing at her cigarette. She put it out and apologized. (You see, this is the kind of reaction George gets. It's like you know he's right, and you can't argue with him.) As I started to pass by her, it came to me all of a sudden what my friend Walker said to me once before he passed away- "God gave you this gift, and now you have to share it with others. When you fight, you have to let your gift come out, because you never know how you could affect other people. You could inspire them." Its like I was in touch with his spirit or something for a minute, because I looked at her cigarette butt and said, "Don't mess up what god gave you." She looked at me for a minute and her eyes got big. "I saw you fight!" she said excitedly, "You're an excellent fighter. Really excellent!" I shook her hand and thanked her. It felt amazing. What Walker had told me felt really real at that moment. I hope I had some effect in her life.
next: part 3- the Sunday championship bouts
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