Saturday night. Doylestown, PA. In one corner was me, confident, cocky, and ready to throw down after a good previous weekend of comedy. In the other corner were 45 people, most of which were age 50+. The setting, an upstairs room in a
Moose lodge. I sit in my corner anticipating the bell, just waiting to come out swinging. My opponent, sitting there with that smug look on their face, was drinking beer, snacking on chips, and ready to get on with the show. The announcer enters the ring. He recites the tale of the tape and introduces yours truly. I stand up, walk up on stage and start jabbing. I get a few good punches in right up front. Nothing that will hurt, but it does sting. I step up my game and start to throw some punches that should leave a mark. Oooh, I missed a few. No problem, I'll get them with a flurry up against the ropes. Hmm, they are tougher than I expected. Ok, I'm tired of this. Time to show them who the hell I am. I throw a huge right uppercut...and miss. I am taken aback. How did that not connect? How is it that they weren't knocked down? Did my opponent last week just have a glass jaw? Were they some kind of chump that was there to fill my ego just so that I could get it crushed? How the hell am I supposed to recover after throwing that giant punch and missing? I am suddenly weak in the knees. Cut me Mick! I throw some more jabs hoping that one of them will connect. I get a few more jabs in and prepared for my special move. The move that won me the nickname of "The guy that does that one thing". I go for it and only slightly connect as they were moving away. Then I hear the final bell. It looks like this one is a split decision. There will be a rematch Doylestown Moose...oh yes, there will be.
The two other fights for the evening are easily won by Stan Stankos and Keith Purnell. The press event afterward showed that my opponent wasn't as tough as I thought. Perhaps I just didn't give 100%. Who knows. What I do know is I still hate that fucking woman in the front row. Why sit up front if you aren't in the mood to laugh, if you aren't in the mood to play along, and if you aren't in the mood to act like a fucking human being for an hour and a half and try to enjoy something.
So now I need to wait a week before my confidence level has a chance of raising up just a bit. I guess that next week, I will just half to throw a sucker punch below the belt right up front just so that they know that they are my bitch. Holy crap! Reading back on what I just wrote made me realize that I need to stop watching The Contender.
