Body Shot (The Dojo)

by Patrick Jones

  “What are you doing?” her grandfather asked. Meghan stood frozen, afraid to move. “Meghan, I don’t want to believe what I just saw. Did you take one of our pills?”

  Meghan moved in front of the counter with the pillbox, but didn’t resist when her grandfather asked her to move aside. He opened his box first and then his wife’s container.

  He said nothing, just stared, his eyes a mix of shock and disappointment. It was too much for Meghan to ignore.

  Latasha was right, Meghan thought, it’s all a hamster wheel. Before she climbed into an MMA cage for a real fight, Meghan knew she needed to become human again.

  “I’m so sorry,” she managed to get out as the tears spilled over and Meghan ran up the stairs. For the first time since her mom’s death, Meghan cried herself to sleep.

  “Are you insane?” Latasha asked seriously as she stepped through the door and into Meghan’s home. The door, like the rest of the house, was decorated with “Happy 18th Birthday” signs. Unlike Hector’s party, this one was for family and school friends. No fighters allowed.

  “Why do you ask?” Meghan asked in return.

  Latasha stared wide-eyed. “I heard that you invited Tommy to the party. What are you thinking?”

  “Wait ’til Tommy gets here and I’ll explain.”

  “I’m not sure I want to be here when she gets here,” Latasha said.

  “No, you need to be here,” Meghan said. She reached out and hugged Latasha. “And I need you to come to my first fight. I want Tommy there too. It would mean the world.”

  “Of course,” Latasha answered. “Didn’t I say it would be nice to finally meet some of your fighter friends? You’ve kept them so hidden from us. I assume none are here?”

  Meghan paused and bit her lip.

  “What’s wrong?” Latasha asked. “Don’t you want me to meet them?”

  Another pause, another bite. “There’s something about me that others in the dojo can’t know yet,” Meghan said quietly.

  Latasha nodded. “About your mom?”

  Meghan shook her head and pointed at her mom’s brother. “No, about our dojo master. They don’t know he’s my uncle.”

  Tommy crossed her arms. “So, what do you want to talk to me about?”

  Meghan looked around the crowded room. “Here, come outside,” she said as she motioned for Tommy and Latasha to follow her out. Tommy and Latasha walked behind her without speaking to each other.

  “What’s going on?” Tommy asked when Meghan stopped and sat on the curb.

  Meghan motioned for her two friends to sit down. Tommy sat a few feet away and pulled out a pack of cigarettes from her purse. Latasha stayed standing, arms crossed.

  “It’s my eighteenth birthday, so I guess I’m an adult,” Meghan said. “But I feel like I have some unfinished business from my childhood—our childhood. I want to make peace between the three of us. It won’t change anything that’s happened, but I need for us to be right, okay?”

  Both Latasha and Tommy nodded.

  “Do you know why we were so good together?” Meghan asked. While the dojo was like a family, it wasn’t a team sport. There was no sacrifice for the greater good.

  “Because I was great.” Tommy quipped. Then she lit the smoke. Latasha sighed deeply.

  Meghan laughed. “We were good players, but my mom made us great. She knew what each of us could do in basketball and volleyball. She knew our strengths and weaknesses.”

  “Your mom was a great coach,” Latasha said. Meghan motioned again for her to sit. Latasha paused, then sat next to Meghan. “The best coach I’ve had.”

  “Our attack was balanced because we each did different things well,” Meghan said.

  “Remember the state championship game against Columbia East?” Latasha asked. Tommy and Meghan nodded as Latasha recounted the critical last minutes of the title game. Meghan closed her eyes and experienced it all again: Tommy’s passes, Latasha’s rebounds, her shots. She heard the roar of the crowd. She saw her mom’s face explode in pride and delight.

  “Those were the days,” Tommy said. “Makes me sad.”

  “I thought it made me sad too,” Meghan explained. “But mostly … mostly it makes me angry. Angry that everything we thought would happen in our lives got destroyed in just a matter of seconds. Like in MMA, you train for years, yet you could lose in an instant.”

  “It made me angry too, then sad, and then …” Tommy started to cry.

  “Then it was easier not to feel anything at all,” Latasha said.

  “You sound so judgmental when you say it,” Meghan said. “You don’t know.”

  Latasha put her hand on Meghan’s shoulder. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  Meghan rubbed her hand over her stomach. Even through her clothing, she felt the outlines of the scars from the shattered glass and the operations. She looked at Latasha and Tommy’s beautiful faces and hated every mirror in her house.

  “I’m sorry we fought,” Tommy said softly. “It all just makes me so angry.”

  “It’s not fair,” Latasha said. “I know that sounds childish, but it’s true. That’s what makes me angry. I mean, I get that the world is unfair, but—I don’t know.”

  After a moment, Meghan spoke again. “Sometimes, I think the reason I fight is so I can get all that anger out, but it never really worked. I stayed angry and depressed, not to mention in pain.”

  “Well, you’re always so medicated,” Latasha said.

  Latasha and Meghan looked at each other, then at Tommy. Tommy smoked instead of speaking. “So I’m clean now,” Meghan continued. “It was hard, but I’m staying clean. You should try it, Tommy.”

  “No, thanks.” Tommy laughed. “I’m happy for you, but I’m fine.”

  “You really want to be a pill head? High and low all the time?” Latasha asked.

  “It’s better than being angry or sad all the time. It makes my life easier,” Tommy said. Meghan said nothing while Latasha and Tommy debated the merits of a medicated life. They talked back and forth, volleying Meghan’s life choices like a ball across a net.

  “Look,” Meghan finally said. “When I’m sad, when I’m missing my mom, you know, I can get through it because I can balance that with the good times. I have so many good memories that kind of fill the holes.” She paused. “But the anger, there’s nothing to balance that. There’s nothing to fill in for the loss, not just of her life, but in our lives. The loss of our future together. I could win every fight the rest of my life, and I don’t think it would make a difference.”

  Tommy moved over closer. She put out her smoke and placed her arm on Meghan’s shoulder. Latasha moved in close to them. They sat in silence.

  Meghan bent over and touched her ankles. She ran her fingers across the zigzag scars on her face. Then she let the full weight of her head fall into her open palms. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, but this time she heard no roar of the crowd or her mother coaching from the bench. Instead, she heard two cars colliding. She felt the sharp pain of the shattering glass showering her body and her ankles crushed under the seat as the car rolled over and then came to rest on its side. She tasted blood in her mouth and smelled gasoline. But it was what she didn’t hear that brought tears: she didn’t hear her mom scream her name, or yell in pain, or even breathe. The silence was the loudest sound she’d ever heard. A silence she had shut out with pills and fought with punches. In the silence, Meghan’s tears flowed. Her head was still down when sounds of sniffling broke the quiet and told her Tommy and Latasha were crying as well.

  Once Meghan had stopped crying, Latasha said, “You know, it does make a difference if you win.”

  “To who?” Meghan asked.

  Latasha looked upward. Tommy’s eyes followed, and finally Meghan’s.

  “What was that thing your mom always told us, Meghan?” Tommy asked.

  “You’re not just athletes,” Meghan said, “You’re champions.” It was time to prove it.

  WOMEN’S FEATHERWEIGH
T MEGHAN HODGE JOSIE ROBERTS

  AGE 18 18

  HEIGHT 5' 8" 5' 9"

  REACH 71" 73"

  RECORD 0–0 0–0

  Meghan paced nervously outside the locker room before the weigh-in. Jackson stood with her for support along with Tyresha, a new girl at the dojo who Meghan saw as good future competition.

  “You okay?” Tyresha asked Meghan. Jackson stood silent.

  Meghan nodded.

  “So what’s your plan?” Tyresha asked.

  “Knees in the clinch on top, arm bar on bottom, and body shots all over. You know, and the basics—use my speed, my strength, my training, and my memory.”

  “Your memory?”

  “I’ve fought her before, I know what she has. But mostly I remember losing to her.”

  “I wonder what we’ll remember more—the wins or the losses?” Tyresha asked.

  Almost at the same time, Jackson and Meghan answered, “The losses.”

  Before the fighter introductions, Meghan fought the urge to scan the crowd. She knew Latasha was there; she hoped Tommy was as well. But she also knew that Hector, Jackson, and others from the dojo were there, about to find out one of the secrets she had managed to keep from her dojo mates for so long. What they would think when the announcer introduced her?

  “In this corner,” the announcer said, “fighting out of the Missouri MMA dojo in her amateur debut, niece of local MMA legend Daniel Hodge, let’s hear it for Meghan Hodge!”

  Polite applause filled the arena. Mr. Hodge put his hand on Meghan’s shoulder. “Good luck, Megs. Work hard and protect yourself.”

  “Don’t worry,” Meghan said, “I got this. I learned from the best.” She flashed him a hint of a smile before double-checking her protective gear.

  After Mr. Hodge left the cage, Meghan walked head-down to the center of the ring for the ref’s instructions. Josie danced the entire time, while Meghan banged her gloves together. Meghan didn’t need to see the smug look on Josie’s face from their first battle. She didn’t want to see Josie’s face until she landed a fist, knee, or foot and smashed her smugness like a bug.

  At the sound of the bell, the fighters touched gloves. Josie landed first with inside leg kicks, four of them to the left knee. Meghan answered with a leg kick of her own and a front kick that Josie blocked. Josie avoided another body shot and grabbed Meghan’s leg. A quick heel trip put Meghan on her back, but she felt no panic. She knew it’s what you did after the fall that mattered.

  On the ground, Meghan quickly got full guard, shutting Josie down. When one of Josie’s elbows missed, Meghan executed a sweep from underneath and stood. On their feet, the fighters circled and exchanged strikes until Josie tried another takedown. Meghan fought it off, clinched Josie’s neck, and brought her knees up. But Josie escaped the clinch and moved back.

  Meghan faked a high kick with her right leg. When Josie moved her arms to block the kick, Meghan buried a hard left hook into Josie’s side. Even with the noise in the arena, Meghan heard the gasp of pain shoot from deep inside of Josie. Josie tried for an underhook, but Meghan was too quick. Getting her arms free, she found enough distance to bury four hard knees in rapid fire to Josie’s side. Josie covered her right side—leaving her left exposed. Meghan got the distance she needed and exploded a rock-hard roundhouse kick to the soft flesh between Josie’s ribs and hip. Josie dropped to one knee.

  “Thirty seconds!”

  Meghan rushed Josie, pushing her to the ground. As Josie rolled up on her head, bridging her neck to try to escape, she exposed her chin. Meghan crushed it with an uppercut. From the full mount, Meghan threw lefts at Josie’s head but used her right to continue a rain of unanswered body shots. As she started to throw an overhand left, she felt the ref’s arm on hers to stop the strike as the sound of the bell and the applause of the crowd filled her ears.

  Meghan took off her headgear and threw it in the air, then bent down and helped Josie regain her feet. Josie stood as the announcer said, “Your winner, by TKO in the first round, Meghan Hodge.” When the ref raised her hand, Meghan forced back tears.

  “Mr. Hodge is your uncle?” Tyresha asked Meghan as she left the ring. “That’s wild.”

  Meghan nodded, but before she could say anything else, her uncle came up behind them. “Tyresha, don’t blame Meghan. I told her that she couldn’t let any of you know. And I have to say, for a teenage girl, she did a pretty good job of keeping it a secret for years.”

  “I have experience,” Meghan mumbled.

  Tyresha shot her a questioning look, but Meghan said nothing.

  Mr. Hodge continued. “So you’re okay with people knowing you’re my niece now? Honestly?”

  Meghan took a deep breath. “Honestly? I guess I’m relieved.”

  Mr. Hodge just nodded, his face hardening a bit. “Secrets control you and weigh you down, Megs.”

  Meghan said nothing to her uncle, but motioned for Tyresha to follow her toward the locker room.

  “What’s he talking about?” Tyresha asked once they were inside.

  Meghan hesitated, but then stripped off her gear and pointed to the scars like snakes on her torso. “This, these scars and how I got them.”

  Tyresha shrugged and squinted. “For serious?” She shrugged. “Meghan, you can barely see them. Like the tiny ones on your face—Jackson told me. I didn’t notice until then. Besides, anybody who goes through life without scars ain’t lived.”

  “I know something about that,” Meghan said as she headed to the showers and stepped under the water. She could feel the weight ready to be lifted.

  Once she stepped out of the locker room, they were all there to congratulate her—her dojo mates, Latasha, and Tommy. Meghan laughed at how eager Latasha was to meet the others as Hector threw questions at Meghan about her fight. After a round of introductions, Meghan and Latasha made plans to meet up later, and Tommy and Latasha took off.

  When only the other dojo fighters were left, Meghan asked everybody to sit on the floor of the gym. She wasn’t sure if the setting was right, but the time was.

  “So what’s up, Miss Hodge?” Nong asked with a smile.

  “Okay, so now you guys know why I practically live at the dojo,” Meghan started. “I guess I want you to know about my scars too.”

  Meghan told her dojo mates about her mom and the accident. She exposed her stomach and then pulled up her pant legs to show the marks it had left. But the scars on her torso and ankles that once seemed huge didn’t seem quite so bad anymore. Just like with Tyresha, nobody recoiled in horror. Surveying their reactions, Meghan wondered if she’d hidden herself for no reason other than her own fears.

  As she talked with her training partners, Meghan felt like she’d won a close fight by decision. She had taken a beating, and the scars from it would remain. But one day, she knew, the pain would wash away. And she would be left a champion.

  Brazilian jiu-jitsu (BJJ): a martial art that focuses on grappling, in particular fighting on the ground; also called Gracie jiu-jitsu

  choke: any hold used by a fighter around an opponent’s throat with the goal of submission. A blood choke cuts off the supply of blood to the brain, while an air choke restricts oxygen. Types of choke holds include rear naked (applied from behind), guillotine (applied from in front), and triangle (applied from the ground).

  dojo: a Japanese term meaning “place of the way,” once used for temples but now more commonly used for gyms or schools where martial arts are taught

  guard: a position on the mat where the fighter on his or her back uses his or her body to guard against an opponent’s offensive moves by controlling the foe’s body

  jiu-jitsu: a Japanese-based martial art that uses no weapons and focuses less on strikes and more on grappling

  Kimura: a judo submission hold. Its technical name is ude-garami, but it is usually referred to by the name of its inventor, Japanese judo master Masahiko Kimura.

  mount: a dominant position where one fighter is on the ground and t
he other is on top

  Muay Thai: a martial art from Thailand using striking and clinches. It is often referred to as the art of eight limbs for its use of right and left knees, fists, elbows, and feet.

  pass guard: when the fighter on top escapes from the controlling guard position of the fighter on bottom

  shoot: in amateur wrestling, to attempt to take an opponent down

  sprawl: a strategy to avoid takedowns by shooting the legs back or moving away from a foe

  submission: any hold used to end a fight when one fighter surrenders (taps out) because the hold causes pain or risk of injury

  sweep: when a fighter reverses position from being on the ground or in the guard to being on top or in the mount

  takedown: an offensive move to take an opponent to the mat. Takedowns include single leg, double leg, and underhooks.

  tap: the motion a fighter uses to show he or she is surrendering. A fighter can tap either the mat or the opponent with a hand.

  TKO: technical knockout. A fighter who is not knocked out but can no longer defend himself or herself is “technically” knocked out, and the referee will stop the fight.

  UFC: Ultimate Fighting Championship, the largest, most successful mixed martial arts promotion in the world since its beginning in 1993

  underhook: a takedown executed by one fighter hooking his or her arms under the opponent’s arms and using that leverage to throw the opponent to the ground

  Flyweight under 125.9 pounds

  Bantamweight 126–134.9 pounds

  Featherweight 135–144.9 pounds

  Lightweight 145–154.9 pounds

  Welterweight 155–169.9 pounds

  Middleweight 170–184.9 pounds

  Light Heavyweight 185–204.9 pounds

  Heavyweight 205–264.9 pounds

  Super Heavyweight over 265 pounds