The Angry Fighter's Story: Harness the Fire Within
Page 5
I follow his advice and his lead. We never stop living. Several weekends in a row, we would go visit friends and I always looked forward to our visits to Mike’s pal Ted. I got to spend time with Mina and we would sneak away in the afternoons (not sneak, everyone knew where we were) to the garden and would sit on the bench there discussing for hours. We often found many things to talk about and I soon found myself looking forward to our talks. I had been a perfect gentleman since we met and even Mike had told me quite slyly that Ted told him that Lucy was suitably impressed with my conduct. I looked quizzically at him but he only grinned and remarked, “Ladies can be quite confusing.” He clamped his mouth shut after that and no amount of glares on my part would make him budge.
At our departure on Sunday, during the usual hugs and cheerful goodbyes, I hung back a little awkwardly after Mina had hugged Mike.
Lucy gave me a push on my back that sent me hurtling towards her. “Come on, at least give her a hug.”
Well, I tentatively opened my arms and was pleasantly surprised when she flew into them. “I will miss you, come back soon,” she whispers into my ears and I nod. Then she pecks me on the lips and I turn beet red.
Mirthful sounds come from all us and Mike says in an aside to me, “about time”.
My head is in the clouds through the drive home and the rest of that day.
My training actually double and then triple as the ranking fight with Danger Bull draws closer. We analyse tapes of his previous fights, watch his style and combinations and wait for it, but found no tangible weakness. He is a well-rounded fighter, having enough of everything and adapting his style to fit his opponent. He is worth every inch the position he occupies as the second rated fighter in the category.
“You will have to think on your feet for this one Dave. Be wary, don’t stress and tire yourself out. Pace yourself and conserve your energy where possible, this might go the full twelve rounds,” Mike tells me as we pull into the Rotunda, called the House of Champions. It has seen a host of iconic fights and represents the next stage in my career.
We go through the pre-fight warmup and regulatory procedures. Mike picks an anthem for me. It sounds quite cool as we walk up to the ring.
The arena is massive, sits thousands of fans and a detached part of my mind studies it as we climb into the ring. The crew all crowd around me fitting my gear and Mike kneels in front of me, “Do as we have taught you, be fearless yet wary, deadly and calculating, slippery and tough.”
“Oh come on,” I groan. “What’s with the play on words?”
He grins at me. “I know, still sounds great right, not too goofy,” and I smile back at him. “Go get him,” he says pulling me to my feet as the referee signals for the fight to begin.
Bull and I exchange acknowledging nods and the bell rings to signal the start of the bout. The first moments instantly confirm our pre-fight analysis. I am facing an intelligent opponent. He is not too close in and not too far away. He stays just at the edges of my reach and able to dart away from my exploratory jabs. We circle each other slowly, exchanging jabs to gauge weaknesses and watching for any slight lowering of guard.
The crowd soon becomes restless with the slow pace at which the fight is progressing and soon begin to chant “Fight, fight, fight!”
Even the commentators get in on the action and Bull slowly smiles as the noise level reaches a crescendo and he explodes forward in a windmill of blows.
I block furiously as he forces me to give ground and I am pushed back towards the ropes.
He increases his speed still and a blow slips through my defences. My head snaps back with the impact and the world wobbles slightly. I am disoriented and a roundhouse to the body knocks out whatever air I had left in my lungs.
The bell rings and the crowd groans in disappointment.
I head towards my corner and am about sitting down when an arm stops me. “This is mine pal, yours is the other side.”
Looking around, I am in Bull’s corner and trudge across to mine amidst whistles from the crowd.
A splash of cold water and pats soon bring me to full alertness. “Keep it together,” Mike, urges me fiercely. “He is faster than you, keep that in mind, and find a way to land your blows without getting severely damaged.”
The bell sounds for the next bout and we go at it again. This time, I dart left and right, evading and watching for a chance and it comes. To throw his left hook, he shifts to his right foot to stabilize his centre of gravity and there is a point when his right cannot cover for the space left and then I strike.
Phasing forward, I curl a left fist, which he blocks. It’s a combination however and the right hook crashes into his jaw. He staggers backwards and I follow up with my double combinations. He gives ground and then replies with blows of his own. I shift left and right, twisting to get away, a blow catches my left eye and it swells. We trade blows for the next round and each breath becomes fire, agonizing to draw, pain spreads through my muscles and sweat drips out of every pore in rivulets.
Round after round after round, we keep at it and in the seventh, I follow through a right jab and his retaliatory blow catches me right in the face.
I blink as words slur and sift slowly through my brain. Four, five, six…. adrenalin races through my body. I exhibit an acrobatic no handstand Mike had taught me to use in such situations and the crowd roars as I waver slightly but remain on my feet.
The referee confirms my condition and signals for the fight to continue.
“That was a close one,” Mike says as he mops my brow. “You have to end it Dave, knock him out, you can’t win with points. He has landed more valuable hits on you.”
I watch as he comes closer and a memory swims up from the depths. It is from a tape I had watched of my uncle. He had been outmatched but had put everything into one desperate bombardment and he won.
I move forward as Bull comes to meet me halfway. I combust into action, throwing a left right combination, an undercut, a right hook in quick succession and immediately notice something important, Bull is tired. The strain shows on his face as he blocks my blows, his movements are sluggish and summoning my reserves. I begin to pummel his arms, he twists to reduce the onslaught and leaves his left side unprotected, I move in for the kill and time slows down to a crawl.
A roundhouse and a massive smash completely breaks his defence. He wobbles and his arms drop to his sides. Pushing from the tips of my toes, I yell as I unleash a parting shot, aiming for the underside of his jaw. I let go of all rage and push with all of my strength.
His chin compresses with the force of the impact and his eyes roll up into his head. The arena goes quiet as he staggers for a second, then he crumples and falls.
“THE BULL HAS FALLEN!” the announcer screams and I stand, dripping with sweat, exhausted, swollen eyed and victorious.
About the Author
Bill Vincent is no stranger to understanding the power of God. Not only has he spent over twenty years as a Minister with a strong prophetic anointing, he is now also an Apostle and Author with Revival Waves of Glory Ministries in Litchfield, IL. Along with his wife, Tabitha, he, leads a team providing apostolic oversight in all aspects of ministry, including service, personal ministry and Godly character.
Bill offers a wide range of writings and teachings from deliverance, to experiencing presence of God and developing Apostolic cutting edge Church structure. Drawing on the power of the Holy Spirit through years of experience in Revival, Spiritual Sensitivity, and deliverance ministry, Bill now focuses mainly on pursuing the Presence of God and breaking the power of the devil off of people’s lives.
His books 48 and counting has since helped many people to overcome the spirits and curses of Satan. For more information or to keep up with Bill’s latest releases, please visit www.revivalwavesofgloryministries.com. To contact Bill, feel free to follow him on twitter @revivalwaves.
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