Chapter 8: Fight Night Part 2
'Ladies and Gentlemen,' Mitzeee sounded unusually hesitant as she stood in the middle of the ring and spoke into the microphone. 'In an unscheduled addition to tonight's programme, we have an extra bout for you to enjoy. Fighting out of the blue corner and weighing in at 92 kilos, from Belfast, Northern Ireland, Eoghan 'The Headmaster' Nolan!' The entrance music, some rocky, Irish-sounding track, came on and the applause started.
Mitzeee clearly didn't realise the microphone was still on as she moved to the side of the ring as she could be heard muttering to one of the photographers, 'Is that really his nickname? Bloody crap that is. What's he guna do? Threaten Brendan with detention? Or bore him to death with algebra? Oh shit.. the light's still on.'
She teetered back into the middle of the ring. 'And fighting out of the red corner… From Dublin, Ireland and owner of this marvellous establishment, weighing in at 91 kilos, please show your support for Brendan 'The Death Blow' Brady!' The room erupted as The Rolling Stones boomed out of the speakers and Brendan swaggered into view.
'What's goin' on? Brendan ain't meant to be fighting. What's he playing at?' Ste asked, clearly agitated by the nature of the unscheduled delay to his own bout.
'No idea.' Joel seemed a little surprised but not exactly bothered, unlike Ste whose heart rate and anxiety had suddenly gone through the roof.
Brendan looked confident, unruffled as he stood waiting to get started. It was impossible to tell just from looking at his calm exterior that it was rage that had brought him to this point, except for the way his darkened eyes refused to leave Eoghan even for a second.
Mitzeee held up the card for Round 1 as the bell rang, then ducked back under the ropes.
'Mitz? What's he doing?'
'Try not worry Ste love.'
Wasn't that about the worst thing you can say to calm someone down?
'What's that supposed to mean?'
'Eoghan's got it coming to him that's all.'
She turned and saw the full force of Ste's concern.
'He's a big boy Ste. He'll be fine.' She squeezed his arm.
Back in the ring, the boxers were darting in and out of each other's reach.
Eoghan landed the first blow to Brendan's jaw, but it looked as if Brendan had let him, like he was just warming up and showing that Eoghan's shots couldn't hurt him, though that didn't stop the crowd from gasping at the contact. Brendan let out a menacing half-laugh as he stepped back, before moving forward again into Eoghan's space.
He put in a few jabs to get his range but Eoghan slipped easily from one side to the other before trying another shot of his own which Brendan blocked without trouble.
Ste could barely watch. He'd never seen Brendan so much as sparring before.
Before Ste knew he had even looked away, he heard the bell go. Joel stepped up into Brendan's corner and they spoke heatedly while Joel gave him his water and towelled him off. Brendan nodded at whatever it was that Joel had said and literally jumped back up again, clapping his gloves together, raring to go. Mitzeee was back in the middle holding up the card for the start of round two and the bell went again.
Both fighters came out all guns blazing. Ste could barely untangle the blows to see who was making contact where.
Before Ste knew it, there was blood on Eoghan's gloves but he couldn't see enough of Brendan's face to confirm what he feared - that it was coming from Brendan's face.
Brendan had his head down, bombarding Eoghan with blows to the body before he finally took another one in response.
Ste found that as much as he didn't want to watch, he couldn't look away.
The referee had to pull them apart at one point and looked like he was warning them both about their conduct.
Seconds later the bell went again.
By the time the third and final round got going, Ste had found his voice and was screaming support with everything he had, pounding the air in front of him and clapping so hard his hands hurt whenever Brendan found the target.
At one point, Brendan stumbled slightly and lost his footing when Eoghan's hook found his cheek, but he was back in the game again almost immediately.
'He's gonna have to knock him out now to win,' Joel stated. 'I reckon it's a round a piece, now this one's gonna be Eoghan's unless Brendan can floor him.'
Ste hadn't thought he could shout any louder but he did. There must have been only a few seconds to spare and both men looked exhausted. The referee pulled them apart again.
As Brendan turned slightly as he retreated, his gaze caught Ste's. Ste froze. It was as if time slowed down for a second and all noise was drowned out by the intensity of what passed between them. There was passion, adrenaline and something fierce in the darkness that clouded Brendan's face. Then as quickly as it had come, Brendan turned back towards his opponent. Ste started roaring again as Brendan unleashed a furious combination that had Eoghan staggering helplessly.
One final blow was all it took and Eoghan was down on the canvas, the referee counting above him as the crowd whistled and cheered. The referee signalled that the fight was over. Brendan had knocked him out.
What felt like mere seconds later, the referee stood in the middle of the ring as Mitzeee's voice called once again over the speaker. As she declared Brendan the winner, the referee held Brendan's arm aloft, then turned them so he could take the applause from the crowds on all sides of the ring. But Kevin and some of the other guys from the gym had pushed in front of Ste and he lost sight of the Irishman, just glimpsing his broad, gleaming shoulders as he climbed back under the ropes.
As soon as Brendan was back on the club floor, Ste watched as he came back into view. Cheryl seemed to pounce on him, confronting her brother, clearly fuming, pushing his chest roughly and giving him a mouthful as he looked blankly towards the ceiling. Moments later, she practically dragged him away by his ear, but as Ste's gaze followed their procession out of the spotlight, he could tell from Brendan's still-intact swagger and the set of his shoulders that he wasn't backing down an inch. The fireworks that were about to go off in that office were going to make the fighting in the ring pale into insignificance, Ste was sure of that.
Mitzeee was quickly back in the ring, her voice on the microphone settling the crowd down after the excitement of the last bout. Then all too soon Ste's own name was booming out over the loudspeaker to ringing applause.
Liam Gallagher's unmistakable Mancunian voice blared over the speakers, ready for him to make his entrance.
You gotta roll with it
You gotta take your time
You gotta say what you say
Don't let anybody get in your way…
'This isn't my music. Joel? Can't you tell the DJ? This isn't it!' He suddenly felt the anxiety in his stomach rise to the surface again in an overwhelming wave of agitation. 'It was meant to be Roar by Katy Perry!'
Joel just shrugged in response as if to demonstrated the decision was out of his hands, before pushing him forwards and into the spotlight.
Macca was stood in the ring grinning smugly when Ste made his entrance.
Seconds later, the referee brought them together to touch gloves and the bell sounded. This was it. The longest six minutes of his life.
Neither man went straight into their big shots, instead moving their feet and sizing each other up first. Ste tried to calm his mind and focus, doing his best to recall what Brendan had hammered into him in training: keeping his guard up, watching his footwork, not wasting energy with needless shots or through tensing his body, but it was hard to compose any rational thought whatsoever. He felt like he was blinkered, he could hear the crowd but it was just white noise. The figure darting in front of him was where he was focusing every ounce of his attention.
Ste threw a few fakes and put in a few jabs to get himself started, but Macca blocked them easily and laughed at Ste around his gum shield. Ste tried again, a different combination this time, but Macca blocked and slipped once more. Ste bided his time and with his next jab-cross opened up his opponent enough that he managed to get in hook, making contact with the underside of Macca's jaw. The noise it made spurred Ste on. Macca blocked and blocked and then finally went for a counter-attacking combination himself. Macca's arms were longer than they looked and Ste misjudged his dodge, Macca's glove just skimming across his cheekbone before landing the follow-up shot to Ste's body.
When Ste looked up again, regaining his composure, he saw Macca was still smirking. He launched himself forwards but the bell rang, cutting him off.
Ste turned to go back to his corner, but Macca called across the space between them.
'No sign of Brendan in your corner. Tells you all you need to know.'
Ste didn't care that the bell had gone. He surged towards Macca, blood and adrenaline boiling through his veins. Just as he got his arm back ready to punch, Joel grabbed him and pushed him back towards his stool. Ste sat there and seethed as the referee came over. He was so angry he couldn't have spoken even if he had tried. Instead he allowed Joel to smooth over the situation for him. Ste's glowering eyes never left the man in the opposite corner, even as Joel reprimanded him then talked him through what he needed to do next.
Moments later, he was back in the middle. The second round seemed to last for an age compared to the first. He felt like he was running on air and pure adrenaline, but eventually his arms had started to slow and his legs were beginning to turn to lead underneath him. It was another tight round, with Ste landing plenty of shots but getting a barrel-load in return, including a sly one to the back of his head that had landed Macca with a warning from the referee.
When Mitzeee had come into the ring to hold up the number for the third round, glorying in the cheers and wolf-whistles, she had winked at Ste and nodded her head up towards the balcony. Ste turned to look on instinct. He could see the silhouette of a familiar figure, even if he couldn't make out his face. He didn't need to see the detail to know who it was glowering above him. Ste's heart thudded hard and his stomach dropped through the floor. Nice of him to bother to turn up. Whether out of anger or something else entirely, seeing Brendan above him was enough to renew his vigour.
The bell rang and they were off again.
The final two minutes went by in a blur. Ste's arms were moving slowly as if he was submerged in water and the noise of the crowd was just as indistinct. His ears were ringing and he could hardly move his feet to get out of the way of Macca's shots but instinct kicked in and he managed to duck and slip out of the way, though eventually Macca's pace had him backed up against the ropes, his arms up to protect himself from the onslaught.
He knew what he had to do in response to show the judges he was still in this fight; he knew what he had to do to prove to himself and everyone else that he was a real fighter. He'd been fighting his whole life, from the moment he was born. He roused everything he had left for one final attack. The pain - emotional and physical - he felt from his childhood, the anger he felt at Macca, the pride he felt for his kids, whatever the hell it was he felt for Brendan - he put every drop of each of those emotions into his final shots. After landing a few jabs, he over-committed to a right hook that Macca dodged, stumbling slightly and leaving himself open. But Macca was too tired to respond, cowering behind his hands instead. Seeing his opponent in such a weakened state forced Ste on, and he was jabbing at the other man's gloves, trying to find a way through when the bell finally went.
He collapsed back into his corner. Joel clapped him on the back then helped take his gloves off. He could barely keep his arms up and the overwhelming exhaustion left him struggling to co-ordinated his hand. Joel steadied him and helped wipe his brow and get some water into him. He wanted to ask how he'd done, if it looked like he'd won, but he couldn't get the words out.
As he sat trying to recover his breath he chanced a glance up towards the balcony, but the glowering figure was gone.
He looked around him, a hint of desperation running through him, a need for reassurance, but he was being pulled to his feet and led to the middle of the ring.
His arms were shaking as the referee grasped his hand firmly. Stubbornly, he refused to look at Macca as they stood waiting for Mitzeee to make the announcement, but he could tell he was still smirking. Ste squeezed his eyes shut as Mitzeee drew out the result, building the tension.
Then, his arm was being thrust in the air, the crowd cheering him on.
He had done it. He had won the fight.
