Side Control (The Dojo)

by Patrick Jones

  Jackson nods. He throws one last punch, which almost dents the bag with his WMD-force right. Jackson laughs as he walks over to Mr. Hodge, remembering what the great Pride fighter Cro Cop said about the effects of his head kicks on an opponent: “Right leg, hospital—left leg, cemetery.” It’s similar to how Jackson describes his punches.

  “Jackson, this is Nong’s cousin Lue Vang. Also, Rex Taylor, Tyresha Harris, and Heather Brock, our new recruits,” Mr. Hodge says. “Lue and Heather have black belts in karate. Rex is a Golden Gloves champ. Tyresha was a champion wrestler at North High. Best group since yours.”

  Jackson nods at the new students and then keeps his eyes down. Both guys look smaller than heavyweight, so while Hector and Nong get fresh meat, Jackson gets no new challenge. Except to try not to stare at Tyresha.

  “Rex, get ready and then get in the ring,” Mr. Hodge says. Rex does as he’s told. They all do as they’re told. Jackson wishes he would’ve thought to tell the recruiter, I’m good at taking orders.

  Jackson puts on his boxing gear and steps into the ring. He’s bouncing on his heels, throwing punches, and visualizing the spar. If the kid’s a Golden Gloves champion, he probably can move. He can run, Jackson thinks, but he can’t hide. For as hard a punch as Jackson throws, there’s one thing harder: his chin. He’ll patiently take ten strikes on the chin to get in one when the fighter makes a mistake. Ten punches that connect score points, but one shot that bangs ends a fight. Good night.

  “Jackson, come here,” Mr. Matsuda says as he waves Jackson to the corner. “Let’s teach these newbies some respect right away.”

  Jackson nods. Mr. Hodge is the dojo master, but Mr. Matsuda’s acted as Jackson’s main teacher. He’s molded him from a brawler into a grappler with both knockout power and submission savvy.

  “Let’s do three two-minute rounds. Just boxing, okay?” Mr. Hodge says. Jackson and Rex touch gloves in the center of the ring. When Mr. Hodge blows the whistle, Rex sticks and moves as Jackson suspected, throwing a quick jab and then backing away while Jackson speeds ahead. Rex connects, but to Jackson, it feels like Rex is swatting flies. As Rex jabs, Jackson’s mind wanders to the recruiter, to Hakeem, to his mom, and to Joseph. A left hook to the body returns Jackson’s focus. Poor Rex just poked an angry lion with a stick, Jackson thinks.

  When Rex tries another hook to the body, he leaves his chin open. A hard right and Rex hits the mat. Mr. Hodge and Mr. Matsuda run into the ring. Mr. Hodge looks concerned at the dazed glare in Rex’s eyes. Jackson kisses his right fist as he watches Mr. Matsuda beam with pride.

  “You know welcome mat doesn’t mean you welcome a new fighter by putting them on the mat,” Nong says. Meghan and Hector laugh, but Jackson just pulls his oversized army jacket around him. They’re outside the dojo, letting the cold breeze refresh them.

  Jackson shrugs. “I told him I was sorry.”

  “He thought it was Hector talking in Spanish after you scrambled his brain,” Nong says.

  “Maybe you don’t have new competition, but I do,” Meghan says before downing an energy drink. “Tyresha is fierce. And for a cheerleader type, that girl Heather throws mean kicks.”

  “She’s got to change her name,” Nong says. “Who is going to be afraid of a Heather?”

  “I don’t know, Nong, it doesn’t sound much worse than calling yourself Ninja Warrior,” Meghan says with a laugh.

  Jackson’s phone buzzes. It’s a text from Hakeem. All it has is an address and a time. Jackson turns off the phone.

  “You want to get something to eat later?” Nong asks.

  “Guys, one second,” Jackson says, suddenly quieter.

  Meghan rolls her eyes. “And ladies?”

  Jackson nods.

  “I wanted to tell you that I won’t be around as much,” Jackson almost whispers. “I have to step it up at school, show the army recruiter I can work hard, and I think it’s going to take more time.” Nong is nodding. “So I’ll train mainly on Saturdays with the adults. Can any of you join me?” Jackson doesn’t look any of them in the eye to let them see he’s afraid to go it alone.

  “I work Saturdays,” Hector reminds Jackson.

  “And I have to study,” Nong says.

  “I’m almost eighteen,” Meghan says. “Tyresha’s almost eighteen, so maybe her too.”

  Jackson scowls, because it’s what he does. Even if he feels more like smiling at the thought of seeing more of Tyresha.

  “She sounds like a bad influence,” Jackson’s mom says as she passes Jackson the bowl of green beans. Jackson takes a second helping and offers it to Joseph, who declines.

  “She made a mistake, that’s all,” Jackson says. He’d just told his mom and Joseph about Tyresha and why she joined the dojo even though the wrestling season isn’t over. After she started at Missouri MMA, he had asked around to get her story.

  “Well, you learned from your mistake, so I hope she did too.”

  Jackson nods in agreement. After he and Hakeem were arrested, he cut Hakeem out of his life. He wonders if Tyresha will make better choices after getting kicked off the wrestling team for failing a drug test. Mr. Hodge doesn’t test, but he has zero tolerance. If he even suspects you’re using, you’re gone. No exceptions.

  “Are you feeling okay?” Jackson’s mom asks Joseph, who is picking at his food.

  “May I be excused?” Joseph answers.

  “We’re a family, and we eat dinner together,” Jackson’s mom answers.

  Joseph half laughs and grunts, turning away from Jackson’s glare. Jackson asks his mom about her latest case with the city. He asks because he’s interested, but also so she won’t ask him any more questions.

  When Jackson finally finishes dinner, his mom nods and Joseph leaves the table.

  “He’s who you should be worrying about, not me,” Jackson says when he hears Joseph’s door slam shut. He wants to warn his mom about Hakeem and Joseph, but he knows how disappointed that would make her.

  “Joseph’s like you were at that age, except you’re here to set an example for him.”

  “And my example was getting arrested.”

  “Exactly! Joseph knows the consequences of bad choices and what it means to turn your life around.”

  Jackson says nothing. The best way to avoid bad choices is to avoid thinking of them as choices. It’s easier just to obey the rules at home, at school, and in the dojo. Like a good soldier.

  Jackson helps his mom do the dishes. She heads to the den to work at her desk, while Jackson sits at the kitchen table. He opens his math book and wonders if the equations would make more sense if he looked at them inside the ring. Jackson thinks about calling Nong for help but decides against it and racks his brain for other people. Hakeem turned most of his old friends against him after freshman year. Jackson glances at a photo on the refrigerator door of his mom and dad, smiling and happy. He pulls out his phone and makes a few calls until he gets the number he wants.

  “Hey, Tyresha, it’s Jackson James from the dojo,” he says when she answers.

  There’s a pause. He hears Tyresha whisper something and then giggle. “What up?”

  “Hey, did you take algebra?” Jackson asks. “I’m lost in this homework.”

  Another pause. Another whisper. This time more laughter than giggles. “Yeah.”

  “Do you think you could—,” Jackson starts. He hates asking for help.

  “I don’t know.” Tyresha laughs louder. Jackson wonders if she’s high. If getting high meant so much to her that she lost her chance to repeat as girls’ state wrestling champ, then it might matter more than anything else. Maybe his mom is right about Tyresha. She is about most things.

  “So how good is that Meghan chick?” Tyresha asks. “She seems like a bully.”

  “She’s the best of the four of us,” Jackson answers. “Nong, Hector, and me all still have holes in our game, but Meghan’s a complete fighter. She practically lives at the dojo.”

  Another pause but no laughter.
What is she thinking? In the ring, part of the skill is guessing your opponent’s next move. But females leave Jackson confused. “So, math is pretty tough?” she finally offers.

  “It’s grounding and pounding me,” Jackson says. Tyresha laughs a little louder.

  “I’ll help you with math, if you teach me how to knock people out like you did to Rex.”

  “Deal,” Jackson says. “When do you want to start?”

  Jackson pauses as he realizes he’s trapped between two bad choices. If he gets into anything with Tyresha, he’ll break Mr. Hodge’s rules. But turning away from a girl like Tyresha would be stupid—and bad for his math grade. He wonders if some rules are worth breaking. “How about now?”

  Jackson knocks on the door of the den to tell his mom he’s going out, but she doesn’t answer. She’s either too busy or too tired from working too hard and has fallen asleep at her desk again. He grabs his army jacket and runs a finger over the stitching with the initials . There’s not a day that goes by that he doesn’t think of his dad, the first Jackson James.

  “Joseph, I’m going out,” Jackson yells through Joseph’s bedroom door, but his brother doesn’t answer. Jackson can hear Joseph, Hakeem, and Hakeem’s cousin Deshon laughing.

  “Joseph, I said I’m going out.” Jackson turns the handle, but the door’s locked, which isn’t allowed. Jackson thinks how Joseph is testing all of his mom’s rules, just like he did.

  Jackson waits for his chance from his doorway down the hall. When Deshon heads toward the bathroom and leaves Joseph’s door open, Jackson slips down the hallway and peeks inside. Joseph and Hakeem are watching TV, eating bags of chips, and passing a fifth of Phillips vodka between them.

  Jackson pulls out his phone and looks at Hakeem’s last text from yesterday. He knows the address: Al’s Corner Store. Most people in the neighborhood know about Al’s, but the ones that didn’t would have learned about it on last night’s news. It was the location of another in a string of flash mob robberies.

  “Jackson and Hector, center mat!” Mr. Hodge says.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day, right?” Hector says before they touch gloves.

  Jackson nods. The spars with adults on Saturday shook his confidence, so he’s back at teen MMA practice at least for tonight, homework or not. As a bonus, it distracts him from thinking about Joseph robbing stores with Hakeem and Deshon.

  Jackson won’t turn Hakeem in again, like he did before to cooperate with police. He won’t give Hakeem the satisfaction of being right for calling him a snitch. But Jackson wishes he could keep his brother from repeating his own mistakes.

  As Jackson and Hector prepare to spar, everybody else keeps drilling except Lue, Heather, and Tyresha, who stand next to Mr. Hodge. Rex isn’t there. Nong was right; he was concussed and won’t be able to train. Jackson avoids eye contact with Tyresha but keeps her rock-hard abs in his sights.

  He and Hector have sparred hundreds of times, and Jackson, with more weight, size, and strength, normally wins. Before the fight starts, Mr. Matsuda comes over to Jackson.

  “I want you to make him tap in the first minute,” he says. Jackson nods. Mr. Matsuda is always raising the bar. The whistle starts the action, and Hector circles and starts throwing strikes.

  “Move, Hector, move!” Mr. Hodge shouts, and Hector responds. He punches, kicks, and throws knees. Jackson’s more a human punching bag than a fighter at this point. Jackson tries for the clinch to cut down the distance, but Hector punches out of it. They repeat the dance several times, and each time Hector gets free. Jackson waits for a mistake to pounce.

  “One minute left!” Mr. Matsuda shouts, which lights a fire under Jackson. At the next clinch, Hector throws an overhand left that leaves his midsection exposed. Jackson takes the punch so he can capitalize on Hector’s mistake. He gut wrenches Hector and throws him to the mat. As they’re tumbling down, Jackson gets side control. Once on the mat, he forces Hector onto his back, and his superior strength locks in the rear naked choke in just seconds.

  “Hector, tap,” Jackson shouts.

  “Tap!” Mr. Hodge screams, and Hector taps. Jackson stands and reaches his hand to help Hector. Showing respect for an opponent is a code that Mr. Hodge and Mr. Matsuda demand.

  “Good fight,” Jackson whispers into Hector’s ear as they hug.

  “Excellent execution, Jackson!” Mr. Hodge shouts and then bows to Jackson in respect. As Jackson leaves the ring, Mr. Matsuda gives him a high five.

  “Good job, Jon Jones Jr.,” Tyresha whispers as Jackson walks past. Jackson covers his face with his glove, pretending to wipe sweat while hiding a smile.

  Mr. Hodge calls the students to him. Jackson stands next to Tyresha. She bumps against him as Mr. Hodge starts, “We have four fighters almost ready to enter their first amateur competition. They’ll be taking on fighters more experienced, but I guarantee you, not better trained. So to get our fighters ready, I’ve organized a scrimmage of sorts. We’ll take on fighters at the MMA Academy next week, and then the week after, they’ll enter in our cage.”

  “Who fights first?” Nong asks.

  “Next week, you and Hector. Then Meghan and Jackson, the week after.”

  “Great!” Nong says and looks for high fives.

  “You’ll see what it’s like to fight people who don’t know your strengths or your weaknesses, nor do you know anything about them. Well, with one exception.”

  “What do you mean?” Jackson asks.

  Mr. Hodge tells Hector that he’ll be fighting a kid named Eddie Garcia who used to train at the dojo, but he left. Hector told Jackson once it was because of a personal issue between the two of them, but Jackson thinks it’s because Eddie could never beat Jackson as top heavyweight. If Eddie’s fighting Hector, then that means somebody else will be fighting heavyweight, Jackson reasons. It will be his first real test as a fighter.

  “So, you ready?” Tyresha asks Jackson. They’re both working the speed bag.

  “You’re not,” Jackson says, watching her speedy but unfocused movements. “Look, this is how you work with the bag.”

  Jackson shows Tyresha the right way to work the bag, just like Mr. Hodge taught him. “Striking is about speed but also precision.”

  “And power. Man, you crushed that poor kid Rex,” Tyresha says. She stops punching.

  “Hey, what are you stopping for?” Jackson says, exaggerating a fake-serious look. “You have to work every second if you want power like this.” His smile breaks through as he flexes.

  “Doesn’t all work and no play make you boring?” Tyresha asks.

  Jackson, done teasing, punches the bag harder, faster, and meaner. “No, it’ll make me a champion.”

  Tyresha shakes her head and then puts her hands on her hips. “Jackson, I’ve been a champion. It feels great for about a week, and then it goes away. Then you’re just you again.”

  Jackson throws an overhand left that smacks the bag. He mirrors Tyresha with his hands on his hips as the bag keeps vibrating, bouncing back and forth like the feeling in his gut.

  “You can’t let what you do define who you are,” she says. “Know what I’m saying?”

  Jackson doesn’t answer. Though the bag has been hit a thousand times, there’s still a little shine on it. Jackson sees his face in the reflection.

  “So who are you, Jackson James?” Tyresha asks.

  “What do you mean?” Jackson stares at his face, distorted in the vinyl.

  “If someone asks who is Tyresha Harris, I tell ’em that she’s the icy girl who’ll lay the smackdown on your sorry self if you get in her face.”

  Jackson laughs at her swagger. He goes back to throwing hard punches without answering the question.

  “So Joseph and I can’t attend this spar Mr. Hodge set up?” Jackson’s mom asks over Saturday breakfast. Joseph is in his room, claiming sickness, but Jackson guesses he’s hungover.

  “No, Mr. Hodge doesn’t allow friends or family. You know that.”

  “May
be he’d make an exception. Didn’t you say that you’d be fighting at the other dojo? Do you want me to talk to him?” Jackson’s mom is relentless. “Jackson, I’d like to see you fight.”

  Jackson laughs.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Just how most moms don’t say that to their sons,” Jackson replies.

  “You’re not most sons,” his mom says. “I know MMA wasn’t my first choice. But after your dad died...” she trails off. “Seeing you so angry? Following the wrong people?” She exhales. “You needed an outlet.”

  Jackson gives a silent nod.

  “But you’ve built so much confidence. You’ve really focused yourself. Jackson, your father would be so very, very proud of you.”

  Jackson hopes his mom doesn’t notice the goose bumps rise on his arm, but he can’t bring himself to agree with her. The truth, he thinks, is that his father would be ashamed of his son associating with someone like Hakeem. The last conversation they had before his dad went overseas for the last time was about Jackson making good choices. But after his dad’s death, hanging with Hakeem seemed to be the answer. Life was hard his freshman year, but Hakeem made everything easy, just like he’s making it easy for Joseph now. Jackson knows how easy it can be to lose yourself in the crowd and follow orders.

  “I hope to make him proud next week,” Jackson says. “I’ll ask Mr. Hodge about letting you watch.”

  “On second thought, don’t. I understand that he has his rules,” his mom says and smiles. “You make one exception to your rules, and before you know it, you lose control of everything.”

  “Take him down, Jackson!” Mr. Matsuda yells as Jackson battles Marcus Robinson, the top fighter in the dojo. With the scrimmage spar coming up, Mr. Hodge and Mr. Matsuda have kicked up Jackson’s and Meghan’s training. Although Marcus is just a flyweight, Jackson’s having a hard time taking him down. Jackson tries single-leg and double-leg takedowns, but Marcus sprawls. Jackson’s attempt at a sweeping hip throw results in Marcus stuffing him into the mat.