Life As I Play It

I may be straight and narrow now, but I’ve been a fighter for so long that I know almost nothing else. Everything else fades away in a confrontation, be it sparring or real life; you step outside of the passing world, just you and your opponent, and it’s usually strength of will that determines the victor. It’s pure; you either win or you lose.

I should take this moment to point out that I feel privileged to keep some of the company I do. I spar regularly with ex-military and current law enforcement, which is something I never could’ve achieved on the street.

A close friend of mine, who must remain nameless as he currently works with local law, comes by maybe twice a week so we can train. Usually we beat the crap out of each other. Well, to be straight, I usually beat the crap out of him–which is why he keeps coming back. He’s a good friend and I’ve learned a lot from him. He started me down the Krav Maga road. He did this by getting inside me once and playing Donkey Kong on my chest. Unpleasant.

So he comes over about seven days back after a shift. He’s had a long night, it’s about four in the morning, and I don’t sleep. Feel like sparring? He asks. Sure, why not.

I move the front room table away to give us room. As usual, we bow, and we begin to circle.

He uses nothing new; a hybrid grappling/boxing/kickboxing style that’s very brutal (and I’m glad we’re friends) but also very familiar. Last time we went at it, I took him down by the neck. Tonight, I’m getting tagged–and I don’t know why.

I can see these moves coming, even the feints; jab to distract, cross that means business. I know it’s coming, and I take it on the jaw anyway. When he gets a one-two shot in, I can see it in his eyes; he knows something is wrong with me.

I don’t know what it is.
I feel like I’m moving through quicksand and not only are my moves inefficient, he’s dodging them. At one point I threw what used to be a dreaded spinning crescent kick and found him behind me. I got off the street because I was starting to slow down…but I’ve never felt anything like this. It’s like I’m a rookie all over again.

He repays me for the miss by slamming the back of my legs with a kickboxing roundhouse. It staggers me. He immediately grabs me–knew that was coming, why couldn’t I stop it?–and puts me in that damn impossible choke-hold. I usually remind him that I know how to fight by driving my elbow into his solar plexus or sending him on the Wolf Express over my shoulder….this time I just tug at his arm.

He pushes me away. I turn back, my hands raised, and he looks at me quizzically as if facing a stranger. “What the hell is wrong with you, Avery?”

I just….lowered my hands.
I wasn’t tired.
I had plenty more to give.
I just didn’t want to fight anymore.
Shoot, I type that now and can’t believe I’m the one saying it.
I can’t even say that it was a conscious action to drop my hands. They just lowered on their own.

“I’m done.” I said, not believing the words even as my mouth spoke them. He looks at me; there are people who would’ve paid cash to hear this. “You okay?” He asks.

I nod. “Can we just…talk for a minute?”

After confirming that  I was indeed in my right mind, we talked. I made up two cups of tea (damn, I’m getting old) and we sat, the two of us. We spoke about our children and our experiences. We talked about what we wanted to be when we were kids and what we turned into as adults. We spoke as rivals, as martial artists, and most importantly, as friends.

But this wasn’t the end.
Now that I finally accepted that I had nothing left to prove (his words) he asked me if I’d be interested in one final encounter between him and me–one that put everything we had to the test.

Something crept up in me and I smiled. Yeah, I nodded. Busterwolf’s last battle.
He nodded. He told me he’d tell me when he was ready. Be prepared, he warned…and I don’t scare easily, but the way he said it scared me. And I loved it.

I was ready.
It happened tonight.
How it went is the next entry…

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Modern Magic Enterprises LTD and Nomadic Productions LLC

Post Footer automatically generated by Add Post Footer Plugin for wordpress.