I decide to take a more a more offensive tactic as we entered into the final round. I have not gone twelve rounds since I was an amateur boxer; it had only happened once, and I had knocked that fool out within the first ten seconds of the final round. I always KO my opponents, but this guy is putting up one hell of a fight. I deliver two powerful uppercuts followed by three quick jabs right into his unprotected face. Idiot, I think. I realize he’s probably exhausted, hell, I am too –but this fool is letting his form suffer because of it, and that’s exactly why he is going to lose. The crowd is going nuts, but I can just barely hear them due to the serious ringing in my ear that has been going on ever since the second round when this son of a bitch knocked me on both sides of the head at once; I had gotten him back when he had left his body open from that childish display of desperation, but damn it’s got me off my game –the only reason he’s managed to last this long.

From the corner of my gradually swelling eyes I can see my girl, Brandi, standing wide-eyed at me from the center of the front row; she looks completely horrified. She’s used to me going five rounds max and then knocking the other guy out. This is the first time she’s seen me do anything like this, and of course, this is the one where she gets really up close for the show and isn’t at home pacing in front of my television. That’s not to say she doesn’t come to my matches on occasion, but watching it live makes her anxious. She’s probably sweating more than I am. Poor Brandi, she’s going to give me shit about this later.

The guy I’m boxing gets desperate as I start working him towards the corner of the ring, and he delivers a low blow to my sack, and I instantly drop to a knee as the ref comes and yanks the guy back. Through the irritable ringing in my ear and the insufferable throbbing in my groin, I can hear the guy cursing at the ref and the announcers giving the play by play of the illegal below the belt blow over the amplified speaker system. He’s going to get points docked for that one, but if I’m going to win this match I have to get back up off my ass. I see Brandi eyeing me. “Get up!” her mouth forms the words, but I can’t hear her over the crowd. Truthfully, I know she would much prefer me to stay down and call it a night, but she’s putting on a front to encourage me to do my thing.

I’m up, and I’m ready to go –ready to kick this guy’s ass for the low blow. Desperate mother-fucker. The second the ref gives me the green light; I take out every ounce of frustration that had been building over the past rounds on this guy’s smug face. I don’t hold back –not even a little. I let my temper take over, but not to the point where I am not in control. I use it, my temper, I mean. I let it fuel me, and I am fairly certain I break the fucker’s nose and possibly his jaw before he stiffens after the strongest punch I’ve probably delivered all night. He falls straight back –arms wide apart –out cold.

He lands with a loud thud, and the crowd loses their minds. Just barely I can make out the announcer's voice. “That’s right; you saw it here, folks. Stockney almost went a full twelve rounds with undefeated middleweight boxing champion, Jonathan Trial!”

The second guy’s voice butts in. “That’s right, Jackie. And now, Stockney, as we all know, was making his debut this evening. Everyone, myself included, called this guy nuts for challenging Trial.”

That’s right; I think to myself as the ref holds my glove high above my head, he was nuts. I got to admit, though; he really made me fight for it. They’re pulling Stockney up onto his feet now that he’s coming to, so I walk over to touch gloves with the kid. “You got some serious fight in you, kid,” I say and give him a gentle, friendly jab in the arm to let him know he about had me. “I’m buying you a drink,” I add, and he grins, even more, spitting a bit of blood down in the ring so he can utter a tangible thank-you.

He nods and grins through bloody teeth and a swollen face. I had almost turned down the fight when I heard about what a short record this guy had, but I went and watched him spar a few times and decided to let the guy give it a go. He had challenged me to try to make a name for himself, and he probably had done just that. The out of the woods underdog had definitely given me a run for my money. I’ll have to keep an eye out for him in the future because he’s going to get him a real manager after this. I doubt this is going to be our last fight, and I sure as hell am not going to let some punk kid take my title.

I hold my championship belt high and invite my girl up onto the ring for a slightly bloodied smooch for the world to see on the televised program. “Fuck you,” she says to me, her heart clearly still racing after such a close fight.

“Later,” I say with a wink, and she rolls her eyes at me.

The excitement settles, and I head to the locker-room to clean up and to get someone to free my sweaty hands from my gloves. I grimace slightly on the way back to the locker-room; my right glove is shot. Damn, I like these gloves. It was a small victory tonight, but it’s probably going to be trending all over the internet after that amateur went twelve rounds with me. My manager is going to want to set up a press conference after that one because everyone’s going to want to talk about how I almost lost my belt –keyword almost. I’m still undefeated, but the press is going to give me hell about Stockney. I say let them. I don’t really care. The kid put up a good fight –I don't have anything bad to say about him. He had certainly surprised me.

Once I’m back in the locker-room, they get me out of my gloves and bandages, and I stretch out my fingers and pop my knuckles. A doctor looks me over and cleans my wounds, telling me I’m going to need stitches. “Fine,” I grumble, “But I’m taking a fucking shower first.”

He tries to argue with me. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist that-”

“Shower,” I say and stand up off the gurney they had me sitting on. I throw my thumb behind me towards the locker showers. “I’m showering off right here. I won’t be far. You can stitch me up once I get the blood out of my nose.”

I hurry because the doctor is really impatient. I let the water wash away the sweat and blood, and it feels great apart from the sting along my hairline where the doctor had said he would need to stitch me up. It’s worse than I thought, but I bear through it until I can breathe out of my nose again.

It was a good match. It’s been a while since anyone made me fight like that, and I catch myself grinning ear to ear after such a riveting experience.