Extreme Fight Night, Chattanooga

I'd like to preface this blog with a disclaimer. If you are uncomfortable with feelings and stuff, or too much information, don't read it. It's not a news article. This was a really significant fight for me for a lot of reasons, and I'm going to write about that, not just give you the basic information about what happened. I don't want pity, or praise- I'm not looking for any particular reaction. I'm just going to tell it.

I had originally hoped to fight on Blake Grice's show in February. That did not happen, and my opponent and I, Melanie McNaughton, both contacted Lane Collyer to see if we could fight on his show March 13th. He said yes, which was great, but brought some adjustments. We'd have to fight with headgear and shinguards, which is required in Tennessee, and there would be no elbows allowed.

A few weeks away from fight time, Melanie had a very unlucky and painful injury. There would be no way the match could still happen. Fortunately, or so it would seem, Lane was able to find a replacement in Lashanda Williams. She'd had only one Muay Thai fight. She'd wanted the match at 140, but we insisted on 135. Since she's 5'6, I didn't think it would be too much of a hardship anyway.

On a side note, a couple of days before the fight, I received a facebook message from Melanie- Chok Dee. Good luck. This is what I like about Muay Thai. The sportsmanship between opponents and everyone in the fight community is substantial and genuine.

A couple of days before the fight, my corner received some information on my opponent. Apparently, she's an accomplished boxer. There were some concerns, and discussion. We would be the co-main event. This made me suspicious and nervous. We decided to go ahead. I assumed that I was the underdog, possibly even a chump being set up to get crushed. My apprehension turned into excitement that I would get to fight someone a LOT better than me. That kind of experience could be really valuable. Plus, to be frank, I was actually relieved by the fact that I was expected to lose. There would be no pressure for me. I thought about all my favorite movies where the underdog rises above impossible odds. I was excited.

Going into the fight, I was a little worried about my cardio. I'd had pretty bad luck getting sick before this fight, with a stomach flu a month out, and a sinus infection that lasted until a few days before we got there. I was inspired by rumors that a friend and someone I admire recently fought while suffering a stomach virus. His performance was stellar anyway, and I decided to use him as an example of what I could do, if I really wanted it. I had encouragement from all over the place, and I decided I could be a monolith if I put my mind to it. I had a few difficult days during training that required the aid of my all-Rocky mixtape.

I was lucky to have good sparring for this fight. I'd moved to American Top Team Atlanta, and everyone there treated me like family from the first day. My friends Marshall, Amir, and Andre were there already and it helped to have their support. The training there is specialized, not for just any schmo who wants to screw around in the gym, and so everyone's training time is valued and respected. I was taken seriously by my coach and sparring partners, and no one treated sparring like a joke. I was lucky to have a couple of partners who will drop you like a bad habit if you act lazy or make stupid mistakes. No one there wastes your time, humors you, or acts like it's good enough that you try, since you are just a girl. Marshall Berger makes sure that you are prepared to go to war when you get in the ring.

My friends Brandon, Robel, and Shoun also came over to help me work. It is a huge morale boost when you have loyal friends who go out of their way to help you with fight training. Those kind of relationships help you sleep at night before the big day. I got in a great sparring session with Victoria and Kelli- two women who are actually close to my size and build and don't mind giving you the straight business. I tried to get in as much sparring time as possible with Alexis, a gentleman at ATT who outweighs me by approximately 100 pounds. Training with him to fight someone my size is like carrying a car so you can get ready to lift a picnic basket. It makes you look forward to the event with relief instead of worrying about it.

Everyone didn't support and help me for this fight. Those people don't matter, and I won't write about them. There are always some people in the world who spread the aroma of garbage wherever they go, and they're not worth much consideration or discussion. I'm fortunate to have enough positivity in my life that it makes that kind of thing look stupid and tiny by comparison. On a side note, you may even encounter people in your life who will say you'll fail, you are a failure, or will belittle your efforts. They are wrong, both morally and actually. You can do anything you want to do, anytime, no matter how seemingly large or crazy, if you really want to. No one who is really successful in their own life will ever spend time discouraging others with negativity.

My corner for the fight would be Andre Camarena and Mike McClendon. These two guys are impressive fighters in their own right, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about how it would look to have them in my corner. They are also really chill, positive guys and a couple of good friends. The drive to Chattanooga was a lot more pleasant with their company.

We left early on the Friday for weigh-ins at the venue, but got stuck in traffic and arrived just an hour or less before weigh-ins. This was fine since I was slightly under weight anyway. The fight was to be at "135 plus two." I'd fluctuated between 133-135 during the preceding weeks. The promoter advised me my opponent would be coming in on the 'plus two' side. For the first time since high school, I had a hard time putting on weight. This is almost certainly a combination of a.) not eating meat anymore, and b.) common effects of Crohn's disease. (With regards to a, please see b. I do not feel any particular moral way about eating or not eating meat.) Anyway, I got to eat bread, fabulous bread! Pretty much all I wanted. If you've never had freshly baked bread, come on over to my place and I'll make you some. It's well worth the effort, in my opinion.

On a side note, I highly recommend picnicking for your next drive to fight night. It brings a bit of enjoyment and perspective to the trip. It's hard to freak out and think you might lose your life in the ring when you're using the awesome picnic basket Rudy Edwards gave you, complete with cutlery, plates and stemware for your culinary enjoyment.

This was the easiest weigh-in I've ever participated in. We got there about ten minutes after the start, figuring the whole thing would be late and a hassle, as always is. To my joy and surprise, everyone was already through, and I got on the scale right after seeing the doctor. It went splendidly and I was pretty impressed with myself. The doctor said I had the best blood pressure of anyone there. We discussed my prize for that accomplishment. It was implied that he will be furnishing me with some kind of special blood pressure trophy at a later date. I made 134.5 with my pants and shirt on, and was promptly informed that my opponent barely made weight. It seemed to be a joke that I wasn't in on. I'm not sure why it was so humorous. Apparently she "even had to take off her hairbow." I must be weird, because my overwhelming thought was Who wears a hairbow- it's 2010?

After the weigh in was fun time. We went back to the hotel room to chill and watch movies on the cable. Andre and Mike were lavish with the compliments toward my bread as we continued picnicking. Nothing boosts your pre-fight confidence like knowing that people enjoy your baking skills. We all told funny stories, and I stayed relaxed about the following day. Sleep was easy, and I napped on into the afternoon.

When time came to go to the venue, I actually felt excited instead of wondering why I'd agreed to have someone else attempt to end my life. I'd gotten a good vibe from the venue the night before, and had moved around in the cage a bit to check it out. Oh, yeah- this was my first time fighting in a cage. Or being in a cage. There are many elements about this fight that, in retrospect, should have had me scared shitless. I chalk it up to a great corner, a fly ass playlist, and the best boyfriend in the universe that I stayed relaxed. And let's not understate the quality coaching from Marshall.

We were treated like royalty at the venue. (At least, in my inexperience and lack of comparison, it seemed so.) The venue itself was awesome- not too big and scary, but not dinky either. It was like a big community arena, and they'd brought in booths for big pretzels, refreshments, and I think funnel cakes. The professional photographer had a booth set up for our pics.

The rules meeting was, of course, boring and interminable. After a while, I was unable to pay attention. It seemed like there were a LOT of times that we were told if we did something, we'd "never be allowed to fight again." I don't like being threatened or intimidated, so I stopped listening mainly out of resentment and my childish alter-ego taking over. I already know the rules for Muay Thai, and I know to listen to the ref. I know not to act like an ass if I disagree with something. We'll return to that subject later.

Finally, the ref came in to talk to us about Muay Thai rules. He was such a low talker it was funny. Mmmnmnmn-nnnmn. Mnnn. any questions? I asked him about the shinguards, which I was told we wouldn't have. Apparently Tennessee requires them, and we'd had a misunderstanding. A big minus for us. "Ok," I said, "can we please borrow some from the equipment manager? We did not know to bring any." See what I mean about knowing how to not act like an ass? We'll return to this subject yet again later.

Finally. Finally, the rules meeting was over. The professional photographer wanted to get our photos. I put on my shorts and tried not to look awkward. The photographer was really cool. She was wearing a shirt from P'cheen, the restaurant in Atlanta. After a nice conversation about the area, she said she'd be rooting for me. That was nice to know. Mike had noted that it looked like a 'Tennessee versus Georgia" card. I tried not to think about things like this.

The warmup area was packed and small. Mike went to look around, and came back excited. "We have a special warmup area!!" We moved to a larger, nicer area that was designated for us, the main event, and one other gym. Blalock's gym were some of the coolest people I've met. They were really warm to us, and said if we are there again we can use their gym, just so long as we're not fighting any of their guys. I wish everyone in Chattanooga was as nice as Blalock's. They're not.

I tried to ignore the uneasy feeling I got about us being treated so well. I could envision an apple in my mouth, like in those cartoons where Bugs Bunny notices he's being cooked as a stew for dinner. Since we were the co-main event, we were 11th on, and that gave me plenty of time to watch other fights. I wish I could remember the one guy who ko'd his opponent in that Muay Thai match. He finished the job pretty fast. I felt awful for his opponent, because he looked scared as hell from the first bell.

Time came for us to warm up. I felt gassed already, and like I wanted to get NyQuil and go to bed. On a side note, I've never felt well when I've fought, and I'll never use it as an excuse for myself. What am I supposed to do, sit at home and slap a big blue handicapped sticker on my forehead? Maybe I'll never be as athletic, fit or perfect as all the golden athletes out there. I'm old and I have Crohn's, and some other shit. Asthma. Who cares. Who cares???? Jerome Bettis has asthma. Alain Sylvestre has Crohn's. His midsection is decorated with the battle scars. These guys are my heroes, and no offense to anyone, but not perfectly healthy perfect specimen prodigy athletes brimming with youth and potential. And, just like me, some jackoff probably told those guys to quit too, and I'm glad they didn't listen either, so people like me can have role models.

So, I'll say again, you can do whatever you want to do. I wouldn't have decided to go into teaching if I thought we should throw people away like garbage. If you really want to do something and you have a bunch of a-holes in your life trying to discourage you, message me and I'll give you all my reasons for why I don't think you'll fail. And I'll hook you up with someone who can probably help you do it, because I'm lucky that way.

This was an important fight for me, for personal reasons I'll explain. But for now, I want to emphasize how awesome my cornermen were. Andre and Mike helped keep me focused on the job. They helped me believe I could do it. They talked about success like it was a sure thing. They also helped me feel that no one would hate me, or be sad, or disappointed at the outcome, as long as I did my best. All the emphasis on doing my best really cemented in my mind that success was something I could control. I can control whether I do my best, so I can control whether I succeed. Nothing else is relevant.

For the first time since I've been fighting, I wasn't losing my shit and having panic attacks.

For the first time since I've been fighting, I didn't make the mental transformation into a nine-year-old who was going to be beaten into unconsciousness by my 250-pound stepfather. I didn't feel small and scared, helpless and useless. I didn't feel condemned to failure. I didn't feel like crying already at the thought of my cowardice and physical incompetence disappointing everyone whose opinions mean something to me. I didn't feel broken anymore. When my walkout music came on, Let's Groove Tonight by Earth Wind and Fire, I felt almost giddy as I walked through the curtain to face the audience. This was really happening! And it would be fun!! These people paid good money to watch me, a real amateur athlete, entertain them! I bowed to both sides and moved around a little. The promoter had asked us to put it on a little for the spectators, so I boxed a little and bounced around, smiling at them. I walked on down to the cage area. No one applauded- in fact, you could probably hear crickets, but I didn't care.

About four people started working on me like I was a stock car. Mike put on my headgear, Andre put vaseline on my face, somebody was taping my gloves, another person was looking at various things.... I felt like there should be wzzzh noises and air guns. Some lady was squeezing my arm. Who is she? I guess she's someone, or she wouldn't be here grabbing on me.

I'd like to take a moment to express my disdain and outright disgust for fight hoes. This woman breathed into my face and reeked of alcohol. "I just love a woman with muscles. I'll be rooting for you," she said, all boozy and bosomy. Ugh. That is not an appropriate expression of support, sorry. And that's nothing compared to what most male fighters have to deal with- the constant, fake adulation of pathetic figures trying to get on the gravy train, or borrow some spotlight. To all the fight hoes out there- I don't care if you're a spectator, someone's something or other, or employed to work at the fight- put your boobs back in your dress and stay away from me and my and my friends' boyfriends. While that was very grammatically awkward, I hope the point is made. And stay out of our areas after the show too.

Once I was all taped up and inspected, I got into the cage. Since I'm not omitting anything embarrassing from this blog, I'll admit that I was confused by the instructions. The fight doctor pointed o the side and said, "go to the red corner." I got back out of the cage and started to walk around the side. I didn't know what he was telling me to do. "No, get IN the cage, just go to that side," he said, pointing. Geez. Sorry. It's unclear to me where the corners are in a rounded octagon. Let's not forget I was an art major.

I was still excited as I waited in the cage. I bounced around a bit. My opponent came out to LL Cool J's Mama Said Knock You Out. Them's pretty big words. Someone in the audience screamed out, "Go back to Atlanta!!" and there was laughing. As she entered the cage, a strange thing happened to me. I usually see Steve, my evil stepfather, across the ring from me. Panic generally strikes me like a mack truck at this moment, and I know I will lose. Usually, I can no longer see anything real, and it's all a nightmare from hell, where I might as well be naked.

Not this time. I saw a 5'6 girl. A regular girl. She wasn't even trying to look mean, possibly out of sportsmanship, or maybe out of confidence in her reputedly excellent boxing skills. The ref brought us out, mumbled some incoherent things, and we bowed to each other and touched gloves.

Bowed to each other? Yes, she trained Muay Thai for a long while before what she later described as her recent interest in boxing. I had not expected her to bow back to me. Interesting. We both came out pretty aggressive, and the action was on.
I was more excited as the match proceeded. We were both doing our best! It was a real battle of wills. If you don't know this about me already, one of the things that makes me a weirdo is how I feel about the fight. I do not try to get myself angry beforehand. I do not get angry during. I do not like it when I'm doing fight training and people describe my opponent in a personally insulting way. I am glad that my opponents decide to take matches with me, and I am appreciative. So, during the match, I was thinking how I'd really like to put my opponent's kidney through her back, but not in a personal way.I was excited that we were both performing so strongly. And, to be honest, I was really excited for myself, because I knew I was beating her.

Now, this will be a matter where you make up your own mind. Some will say sour grapes, some will say I'm a poor sport, but I am firm in my opinion that I should have won the decision. I won't make a big drama with it, but I am not alone in that opinion. Now, let's just move past that, since it's irrelevant at this point.
After the fight, people said very nice things to me, and I am appreciative. People I didn't know said some very favorable things toward me, and that was very nice. It's pretty awesome when people from other gyms are nice to you. It makes you feel that the camaraderie of the sport is boundless and far-reaching.

My opponent, Lashanda, was very nice and so were her coaches. She pointed out to my corner and I that her leg was bashed, and her midsection very painful. I complimented her inside punching, which was no joke.

As we left to go back to our hotel room, the promoter said he'd love to have me fight on another show. "The audience loved you." I was dubious, very dubious on that point, but I thanked him. "That was a great fight! Any maybe next time, we'll have you fight someone who isn't a Golden Gloves champion."



Epilogue:
Andre, Mike and Adrienne obtained a box of donuts from Krispy Kreme and watched movies on cable. There were comedies. Even the trip back was pretty fun. Adrienne began writing this paragraph in the third person. She would love to get together with all of you and eat chocolate before preparing for the next fight. She is eternally grateful to her family at ATT Atlanta, Mike, Andre, Chike and all her friends, who are wonderful people. She looks forward to noodles with Tijana and Willow, and insists that if you want to do something, even if you believe you are broken, even if a voice in your head tells you you'll never be able to do it, you can. You definitely can.