Bridgeport Brawler (Fight Card)

by Jack Tunney

  “Time’s up,” I said.

  Jimmy Lee didn’t budge, but as I moved towards him, the Russian open his coat to show me a nice shiny .45 ready to come out if needed.

  “Pat, this is a legit thing,” Jimmy said. “Just hear us out. Okay?”

  It wasn’t so much Jimmy’s sincerity as the looming gun that made me sit back down to listen.

  The Russian did the talking the rest of the way.

  “We are looking to get into legal boxing. We figure if we combine our efforts, the mob will not be able to keep us out. It’s a very lucrative business, and the best part is – it’s legal.”

  I knew I was going nowhere fast on my own. While I didn’t trust these two, I was pretty much out of options.

  “Perhaps…but let’s get one thing straight right here and now – I fight for me, for my goals. You don’t own me. And when I decide it’s over…it’s over.”

  They both nodded agreement.

  “One last thing,” I said. “I don’t dive for no one…ever!”

  “Agreed,” Emir said. Jimmy nodded.

  The conversation lasted another half hour before they left. They explained how they had already paid off some officials to have me reinstated. My first fight would be in two months. They told me the gym they had opened was stocked not only with top trainers, but a group of talented fighters.

  They finished and we shook on everything. Emir promised to have all the contract stuff written up the next day for me to look over and sign. They took off and I sat back in the chair.

  I didn’t know whether to be happy, or worried.

  I also didn’t have much choice…

  ROUND 13

  The next few weeks flew by.

  Everything Jimmy and Emir had promised was happening. The gym was great, and they had even imported a trainer from the west coast. He was an older black guy named Gus Wilson.

  He was an ex pug. While he’d never won a title, he had stood toe-to-toe with some of the best out there. His nose and ears definitely showed he’d taken his share of beatings.

  I didn’t care. All that mattered was I had someone to push me. I pushed myself hard, but Gus was there for the times when I felt like stopping, when I needed to run extra miles or do extra sit-ups.

  Gus didn’t look it, but he was a good tactician. He knew the fight game inside and out – knew what to look for from most every fighter of any recognition.

  My first fight was coming up in two weeks. While I knew better than to look beyond a fight, I just couldn’t help it. I was doing sit-ups, but my mind was elsewhere. I kept seeing Homer’s dead eyes, the look on Carmen’s face as he gave the order to have his goon smash my hand.

  I was going to get the title back, and I was going to look Carmen in the eye afterward and laugh as I held the belt up.

  I was deep in thought when Gus dropped a medicine ball onto my untightened stomach, knocking the wind from my body. I looked up as he stood over me, the fat cigar hanging out the corner of his mouth.

  “Thought you needed a bit of focus, Pat,” he said in his raspy voice.

  I laughed. He was right. I needed to focus on the upcoming fight with Marvin Lewis – an up-and-coming black fighter. Gus felt he was a comer, but it would be a few years before he was ready to make a real run at the title.

  Gus warned Lewis was quick and well taught, but needed some bulk muscle. However, Gus was quick to add if I didn’t take Lewis serious, he had plenty of thunder in his right to knock me in to next week.

  I didn’t doubt it.

  ***

  The night of the fight came and I was sitting in the locker room getting taped up. It was a serene feeling – one I had never expected to have again.

  Gus finished taping me up and slid my gloves on. He slid the bright green robe over my shoulders as I stood, and we walked down the hall to enter the arena.

  I was in a zone, I could hear the loud cheers as I walked down the aisle toward the ring, but it was like backdrop music. I got to the ring, pushed down the second rope and climbed in.

  My opponent was just entering as well. He looked young. He was close to my height – six two, give or take an inch – but I could see what Gus meant by the kid needing some meat on his bones. He weight one-ninety- five, maybe two, tops.

  The prefight rituals were finished, the bell rang and the first round was under way. We stepped into the center and felt each other out, a few jabs, some dancing. The kid was quick, but I was focused. Visions of the past flowed in my head, it motivated me.

  The first round was half way over when I decided to go to work on him. I stepped in with a couple stiff left handed jabs Lewis deflected. Then I threw a straight right, knocking his gloves in to his face.

  I backed out as he attempted to land a couple jabs, but I didn’t give him space. I stepped right back in and threw another straight right, following it up with a left–right hook combo.

  The right landed hard on his temple and dazed him. I smelled blood and stepped in with another right hook, which tiled his head to the side. A solid left uppercut popped his head up past the protection of his gloves just long enough to be introduced to a right roundhouse with my hips completely behind it.

  Marvin went down like a sack of army potatoes, and the ref moved in to do the count.

  I watched Marvin roll around trying to get up. It was then I looked in to the crowd and saw Carmen in the front row. His face held no expression, but I made sure we made eye contact, just to let him know I seen him.

  The ref reached ten and Marvin was still down.

  It was over.

  I moved to the center of the ring and the ref raised my hands. Gus and a bunch of reporters jumped in the ring. It was all static to me. I was focused on Carmen as he stood and exited the arena.

  Gus answered most of the questions at the press conference, and Jimmy and Emir were in the locker room waiting when I got back. Each of them was accompanied by a few of their boys.

  Emir spoke first.

  “Good fight, champ, you haven’t lost your touch.”

  Jimmy Lee just smiled and nodded. I was all business. No funny stuff.

  “When do I fight Carmen’s boy?” I asked.

  “Three months.” Jimmy Lee answered. “Carmen tried to push it up, but the commission wasn’t having any of it. I guess Carmen doesn’t have them in his pocket anymore.”

  Emir smiled. “He did, but I upped the ante and convinced them to vote in our favor.” Emir turned to Gus. “Is three months enough time to get him ready?”

  Gus took the cigar out of his mouth. “This Cuban, Ricardo Alvarez, is the real deal, Pat,” he said to me. “This will not be a cake walk like tonight. If you’re going to beat this guy, we need to focus on the training. That means no smoking, no drinking, and most of all…no women!”

  I knew the last part would be a tall order, but I also knew Shi would understand. She would make sure I didn’t slip up.

  ROUND 14

  I trained harder than I ever had before. I always fought at around two-twenty-five to two-thirty, but even though I was doing a little more heavy training with weights, I was also working on my speed and rhythm – tons of jump roping, and tons of running.

  Grandfather even got in on the act with some special training to keep my spirit centered. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I think it was to make me feel lighter on my feet, quicker to move about the ring.

  I figured Alvarez must have been one tough cookie, because Gus had seen me train, even seen me fight before my hand had been smashed, and he was definitely worried about this Cuban.

  The night of the fight suddenly arrived. I stood before the mirror in the locker room staring at my body. I was ten pounds lighter, but I was defined and every muscle rippled across my body.

  I felt great. I couldn’t wait to enter the ring. Gus had managed to get Shi and grandfather front row seats. Win or lose, they weren’t going to miss a thing.

  I moved to the table, got taped up and rubbed down. Gus was pretty qui
et, but I figured he had instilled in me every bit of knowledge and training he could in the last three months. He slipped the gloves on my hands and laced them tight.

  He then looked hard and straight into my eyes.

  “I know you’re good, Pat. Maybe the best I’ve ever seen step in to the ring. But you been through a lot. Don’t take anything for granted. This guy is a beast – I mean it. He loves pain like you love Shi. He lives for it. I think it’s his whole reason for fighting. It makes him the most dangerous fighter you have ever faced. Pay attention. Don’t get cocky. This guy can make you eat your meals through a straw for the rest of your days.”

  I nodded and stood up.

  It was time.

  ***

  I entered the ring and stared across at Alvarez. He was darker than other Cubans I’d known. His head was shaved completely bald. He was my height, but looked to have a few pounds on me, especially now.

  He saw me looking him over and smiled. I noticed a few of his gold teeth caps glittering across the ring at me.

  I looked over next to my corner and saw Shi and grandfather standing in front of their seats. Shi seemed worried, but grandfather caught my eye and smiled. Then he nodded, and I knew he felt I would be the winner.

  After the usual mumble jumble from the ref in the center of the ring, Alvarez and I stepped back to our corners. Gus put my mouthpiece in just as the bell rang for round one.

  I moved toward Alvarez, bobbing and weaving. Unlike my wary approach, he moved casually, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. It was unnerving.

  I move in first, pounding two quick lefts, which bounced off his gloves. I stepped out, sidestepped, and threw a combo – a straight right with a left hook. The left hook landed hard, but Alvarez wasn’t impressed.

  I stayed on him, keeping him near the center of the ring. The whole time, I was throwing jabs, and moving around. I stepped in again. This time, I threw two rights and then a left hook that caught his ribs.

  Nothing.

  The rest of the first round went much the same way. I’d land hard shots and Alvarez’s only reaction was to appear about to yawn. However, he had really made no attempt to go on the attack.

  The bell rang. Alvarez just smiled at me, turned, and went back to his corner. I went back to mine and raised my hands to Gus with gesture asking, what the heck.

  Gus nodded his head. “I told you. This guy likes pain. It’s what drives him.”

  Gus gave me some water to swish around and then held the bucket up for me to spit. He put the mouthpiece back and it was time for round two.

  I met Alvarez in the middle of the ring and then stepped into him again. If he liked pain so much, I was going to oblige him.

  I began beating on his forearms first, then went to work on his upper arms. I spent the first half of the round working around him, beating his arms every chance I got.

  Then I started to dance around him. He raised his now sore arms to guard his face, but I was aiming for his shoulders. I moved in and out with surgical position. I knew I had his attention.

  The bell rang and round two was over, but this time I received a snarl, and not a smile.

  Rounds three and four, Alvarez came to life. He was moving, so I wasn’t landing the blows on his arms, and he actually started to fight. I was glad, because he was good, real good.

  By the end of round four, I figured we were about even on points.

  I moved to my corner. Gus seemed a little hot.

  “Quit playing with this guy! He’ll kill ya, trust me.”

  I smiled and threw Gus a wink before stepping out for round five.

  In the center of the ring, Alvarez began to attack right away. He threw jabs, and some combos, but I was still light on my feet. I either sidestepped the shots, or swatted them away.

  He continued to assault me, but I just kept avoiding his shots. I could tell he was getting angry.

  I let him come in again, only this time when I side stepped him, I threw a solid right hook that struck him in the kidney. He dropped his elbow down in reaction, and spun around trying to catch me with a left handed roundhouse. If it had landed, it would have stretched my neck for me.

  I came in again, and this time brought a quick left hook to his other kidney. I rewound quickly and twisted another right to his temple. It staggered him.

  I moved in to try and land a straight right, but he was waiting. He planted a left uppercut on the point of my chin, and stepped in with a right. I deflected it, but it still knocked me to the canvas. I watched the arena lights bouncing around, and heard a sound like a train horn. It was common when someone laid a good tagged on you.

  The ref started counting, but only got to four before I was on my feet. He grabbed my gloves and looked in my eyes. I nodded that I was okay.

  Alvarez tried to move in for the kill, but I shot out a right that blasted his glove into his nose. I heard the crack and watched the spurt of blood that followed.

  His nose was broken, but he was far from done.

  The bell sounded, but Alvarez pretended to be deaf. As I turned to go to my corner, he rabbit punched me. I saw red, but by then both corners were in the ring pulling us back. I didn’t even sit, I wanted to get back out there.

  The bell rang. We both exploded out of our corners and crashed into each other.

  I backed Alvarez off with a straight left and a couple of strong rights.

  He came right back at me, shooting stinging jabs. I deflected what I could, but he then lowered his head and bulled into me.

  I dropped my chin and pulled my head back into my shoulders. I knew Alvarez was trying drive the top of his head in to my chin. I was having none of it.

  I work in tight, throwing short upper cuts with deadly effect. He tried the same, but I pressed in even further. I hooked him on the left side with a rib shot and then hit him in the left temple. I swayed over and did the same on the right.

  We grappled a bit, which was fine by me. I wanted him in close where I could use the short power I felt I had over him. It was working, he was getting frustrated. The bell rand ending round six.

  In rounds seven and eight, I practiced the same strategy – moving in tight, tying him up, and landing short jabs. I could tell they were starting to take their toll, so I kept it up.

  In close, I was working the insides of his arms, pounding away and then stepping in to tie him up.

  His frustration level was peaking toward the end of round eight and he grabbed me and wrestled me to the ground. He managed to get in a few solid shots on my ribs and stomach, but all the sit ups had paid off, no damage was done before we were pulled apart like a couple of kids on a schoolyard.

  Round nine, I started out with the same strategy, but Alvarez kept grinding his head in to my chest while throwing vicious shots to my mid-section – along with a few cheap shots below the waist.

  I pushed him away and threw a couple stiff jabs, which straightened him up a bit. I bounced back, deflecting his counterpunches, and drove a left hook into his ribs. I knew I was delivering deep bruises, if no cracking the bones. When he finally dropped his elbow to protect his ribs, I snapped a straight left to his head then a big right hand – a right hand that only months before had been a useless stump.

  But now, that right hand was centered with my spirit – the spirt grandfather had guided me to find.

  It connected full on.

  I watched his head snap back, and his eyes roll up. I threw another blow with my newborn right hand and sent him to the canvas. I felt it all the way up my right arm. Something cracked.

  I watched Alvarez go down and the ref move in to start the count.

  The ref reached five when Alvarez fought to his knees, then eight when Alvarez slowly stood up.

  I should have felt the wind leave my sails, but I didn’t.

  I was gonna have to win this quickly, and I was gonna have to win it one handed.

  The ref waved fight on, and I wasted no time. I went in hard. I faked with my useless ri
ght and stepped in with a left hook that again landed on his ribs. I heard the air go out of him.

  I bent low and unleashed the hardest left uppercut I had ever thrown.

  It connected perfectly with the point of Alvarez’s chin – and the fight was over.

  Alvarez hit the canvas loose limbed unconscious.

  He wasn’t getting up this time.

  ROUND 15

  After all was said and done, Emir and Jimmy Lee made sure Carmen wouldn’t factor in to any other part of my life. It was business, nothing more.

  Still, I was forced in to retirement, but somehow it didn’t matter.

  I had done what no one thought I could. I was champ again, if only for a short time.

  Shi and I were married and I was content to work in the store next to her and her grandfather.

  Then came the twins – a boy and a girl – and I became a whole different kind of champion.

  END

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  FIGHT CARD VOLUME 1

  FELONY FISTS

  THE CUTMAN

  SPLIT DECISION

  COUNTERPUNCH

  HARD ROAD

  KING OF THE OUTBACK

  A MOUTH FULL OF BLOOD

  TOMATO CAN COMEBACK

  BLUFF CITY BRAWLER

  GOLDEN GATE GLOVES

  IRISH DUKES

  THE KNOCKOUT

  FIGHT CARD VOLUME 2

  RUMBLE IN THE JUNGLE

  AGAINST THE ROPES

  THE LAST ROUND OF ARCHIE MANNIS

  GET HIT, HIT BACK

  BROOKLYN BEATDOWN

  CAN’T MISS CONTENDER

  BAREFOOT BONES

  FRONT PAGE PALOOKA

  SWAMP WALLOPER

  FIGHT CARD VOLUME 3