Second fanpost ever and second installment of the fighter monologue. Enjoy and would appreciate any feedback.
Ten minutes to show time boys. Let’s go be ready to go. I got the callback, lucky me. Now I get to fight another up-and-comer like myself. Why am I nervous? I dominated and TKOed my opponent in less than three minutes. My next opponent is a dangerous fighter known for his heavy hands. Coach told me never to think of fighters in terms of human beings. They are only the opponent. No name, no face, just the next opponent who is in my way.
Two minutes. Coach nods at me. I stand up and I’m amazed how steady my legs are. This gives me some confidence. I know what I must do. My opponent’s dreams of a title run will have to wait. It’s my time not his. I push through the curtain. I am happy for the first time to be where I am. Hunt You Down by Saliva. A fitting song for what I was going to do to my opponent in that cage. My excitement rises like steam from boiling water. This is how it should always be. This feeling of excitement, this rush of energy is so overwhelming. There is no other place on earth that I would rather be now. The crowd cheers louder at my beckoning. Reaching the octagon, I turn to Dana and promise him KO of the night. He laughs and my confidence skyrockets. I jump all four steps at once and run around the octagon pumping my fists in the air waving my arms to make the crowd cheer even louder than before. I hear Coach calling me back to the corner in his usual polite and calm way. Once I get there I can tell he is about to unload on me. “Stop acting like a fucking three-year-old! Get your head on straight or I’ll do it for you!” I nod my head and calm down a little bit, while I patiently wait for my opponent to enter the cage.
Directly across from my opponent I motion that we will not be touching gloves. I don’t want him to think he will have an easy time with me because of my lack of experience. We meet in the center of the octagon. The referee starts talking. I tune him out completely. All my senses are devoted to my opponent. We stare each other down, neither of us wanting to be the one to look away first. We don’t touch gloves. I go back to my corner, feeling like a caged animal waiting for a chance to attack, brutalize, and destroy my opponent. The blood is pounding in my ears like massive drums beating inside my head. The adrenaline is flowing as if a dam holding back a massive river had been opened. The referee starts the fight. Here we go again.