“In this corner,” the announcer began with a booming gusto, “Weighing in at one-hundred seventy-five pounds, it's the underdog of the night! He's got his eyes on the prize, so give him a warm welcome tonight folks! Put your hands together for Christopher Batta!”
The crowd around Chris erupted into mad cheers and whoops. His eye cast toward a young woman and child seated in the front row. His wife smiled back feebly at him, although he could tell that nervousness clung to her face like glue. He ground his teeth together at taking notice of her usual attire of tattered clothing and semi-matted hair. Their child, Matt, was staring wide eyed at him through the bright lights and various noises that filled the ring.
“And in this corner,” the announcer droned on through a slowly rising approval from the audience, “Weighing in at two-hundred and fifty-three pounds! He sends his regards to whomever he fights, since they always end up in the hospital; it's the ruthless, fearless, Roy-Big-Green-Zimmerman!”
Chris' opponent roared at the crowd with a bestial vigor. Every nerve spiked within him as he stared at the much larger and more imposing man that would soon become his opponent. Just as he was reaching such a fear as to consider quitting, however, his eyes settled back upon his family. He would not give up when they needed him most.
“All right, men,” the referee said moments later, “I want a clean fight. No below the belt, no headbutts.”
Chris nodded wordlessly to him, his mouth occupied with a bite guard. He slammed his bright red gloves together a few times to show readiness. The man before him - easily three inches taller – smiled through his own guard and punched at the air with golden-hued gloves that matched the gaudy gold of his trousers. His face was stoic; offering Chris little comfort as to his opponent's current emotion.
“And...fight!”
Chris lightly slapped at his outstretched glove to start the match. The crowd began murmuring excitedly as he placed his fists up to his eyes in a defensive stance. Roy wasted little time in taking an offensive approach. He began pelting at Chris' body at random. Chris dodged most of the clumsy attacks; he was aware that they were mostly test shots to find a weakness. He took his gloves from his face, feet bouncing on their toes. He threw a few punches of his own, hitting nothing but his hardened muscle. A sudden blow to his chest caused him to falter for a moment, but offered a retaliatory shot to the side of Roy's face. The audience erupted once again in a flurry of excited noise as punches were thrown and traded between the two sides. Despite himself, Chris smiled; did he actually have a chance against the Green Monster?
Suddenly, a renewed vigor sourced from Roy, causing a flurry of blows that Chris could barely defend against. An impossibly large force connected with his chin, pulling him up a bit before releasing him in a dancing array of stars that played out in front of him. He grunted as another fist caught him in his side. He hastily put his arms up once again, to attempt to deflect the massive attacks made against him. Roy succeed in another jarring punch to his stomach. He staggered back from the blow, his back feeling the cool plastic of the side ropes. The crowd was in a frenzy at this point, now caught up with the rhythmic shouting of 'Eat him alive, Green Monster!'
Chris picked himself up just in time to be slammed against the ropes once again with another heavy punch to his face. He couldn't help it; he fell to one knee. More stars swam in front of his eyes, the referee stepping over to him to count.
1....2...
This was not going well, he thought to himself. He wouldn't be able to get this prize money that he desperately needed. Chris couldn't bare to look at his family; he knew they were likely watching him with fear and concern. He couldn't do this anymore.
7...8...
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