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« Last post by EllenShaw on Yesterday at 12:59:30 AM »
Good old Ellen Shaw stories - like London buses they come in pairs. This time it's another throw back (although not as far back as "A momentary lapse". I originally wrote this one several years ago but I've updated it a bit and, as you will see in due course, it acts as a prequel of sorts to some stories I'll be posting soon.
January 2013, a new year and a new departure for me. For the first time since I returned to the ring at CLAWS, I would not be fighting in the senior wrestling tournament, an event I had now won twice. Instead, I would be refereeing the tournament while focusing my energy on winning the third senior boxing tournament, a gruelling 3-day event that would take place in late May.
It had been 5 months since my last boxing match and 5 months until the next senior tournament, which I very much want to do well in. My coach, Erica. called me up:
“Hi Ellen, how do you feel about a boxing match next month? I think it would be good for you to get a couple of matches in ahead of the next senior tournament.”
“Do you have someone in mind?”
“Yes, the boss.”
“Gabi, I thought she’d retired.” I was astonished and it must have shown in my voice.
“She hasn’t fought a real match of any kind in over two years but she’s keen to have a crack at you. It might be her last ever match. What do you say?”
“I remember her beating the crap out of me three years ago.”
“Yes, but you were a rookie then. And she hit you when you were down. You’ve beaten her twice in the wrestling ring and I think you’ve got a good chance in the boxing ring as well. Remember, you’ve got several years on her.”
“OK – when?”
“It’ll be an extra match on the next league boxing card. I’m defending my league title against Amber but we’ll put you to on after that. The one thing I must say is that I can’t be in your corner on this one.”
“I understand; will you spar with me in the next few weeks?”
“Of course I will! We’re friends, aren’t we? Plus, we have a deal – I coach you at boxing, you coach me at wrestling, remember?”
“OK, it’s a deal – I’ll fight Gabi next month but I want a re-match with Mia on the next card.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Mia hasn’t boxed since she beat you by that one point so she may not agree.”
Three weeks later and it’s fight night. Erica greets me in the lobby when I arrive at Marshall’s. She has some news for me. Mia has agreed to our boxing encounter on the condition we wrestle later in the year. I tell Erica I have no problem with that although secretly I expect to lose. Mia is wrestling regularly and doing pretty well in the heavy weight league against opponents young enough to be my daughters.
Erica wishes me good luck against Gabi but I suspect this is one match she’d like to see me lose. I'm not feeling that confident myself. Gabi is 56 to my 50 but is a far more experienced boxer. Erica and I hug and I make my way to the blue corner dressing room. For the first time I’m fighting without my boxing coach – in fact she’s in the other corner. Family and employment come first and Gabi is both Erica’s cousin and her boss so it’s a bit of a no-brainer. Instead of Erica I have Emily as my second. That’s no bad thing as she’s also a very experienced boxer.
Both Emily and Erica are in league action tonight and, as my fight is last on the card, I get to watch them both from the ringside. To my dismay both lose their matches. Emily is knocked out in the 4th round by Stacey and Erica loses the league title on points to Amber Preston. On paper this should have been an easy win for the experienced German but Amber was coming off the back of three successive victories over former title holders and she wasn’t about to give Erica an easy ride. Emily’s defeat to big, blonde Stacey was less of a surprise, the pair had met 4 times before with Stacey winning 3 of those encounters. Fortunately for me Emily had recovered by the time I stepped into the ring.
Before the match Erica told me to remember three key things about her cousin: she big, she hits hard and she’s a southpaw. That last point is going to prove key, the last southpaw I fought was Lorraine and she was all over me for the first couple of rounds. Mind you, she had a good few years on me anyway so I wasn’t expecting to beat her.
“Watch her left” is the mantra I keep repeating as we face off and start feeling each other out. It serves me well for the first 90 seconds or so but then suddenly BAM! The lights go out and I feel my legs giving way.
The camera shows her landing a solid left hook on my kisser. I go down hard on my left side and end up on my back.
My eyes open and I’m staring up at the ceiling. My head is spinning and I’m struggling to focus. I roll on to my front and get to my hands and knees. I tell myself there’s no way I’m going to be knocked out in the first round and stagger to my feet.
The camera shows that the count has reached 4 before I even start to get up and 9 before I’m standing.
I can’t focus and I’m unsteady on my feet. Suzi is asking me if I’m OK to continue. She knows I won’t say no but she can see I’m in a bad way. She’s a good ref and I’m just hoping she doesn’t stop the fight. She doesn’t. I resume my guard and try to focus as Gabi comes into view.
The camera shows me somewhat unsteadily facing her. The action resumes and it’s clear I’m all over the place. She’s hitting me with almost every swing and I’m not returning anything.
Eventually I go down again, more from the relentless assault than any one single punch. I make it up at 8. Suzi signals ‘box on’ and we square off but a few seconds later the bell sounds for the end of the round.
I return dejectedly to my corner where Emily does her best to get me ready for round two. I’ve taken a beating but I'm not in bad physical shape. It's the psychological beating that has hurt most and it hurts again as the score board displayed what I already know – I’m trailing by 10 points to nil.
Well, as they say, it ain’t over ‘til it’s over. So, when Sallie the timekeeper calls “seconds out” I get to my feet ready to face the boss for round two.
The bell rings for the start of the round and I dance out to meet her. This round is much more even. I’ve learned my lesson and studiously avoid her left hook. But I don’t make much progress myself. For an old lady (and not a small one either) she’s surprisingly agile and I have trouble hitting her.
We trade punches for the next two minutes but she dominates the action, landing three or four blows to each one of mine. I back pedal around the ring, desperately trying to avoid her swinging fists.
Eventually she catches me again; this time it’s a right to the jaw. I spin away and into the ropes. I grasp them desperately, leaning over the top one. I’m determined not to go down again.
Suzi moves in to give me a standing count of 8 as I steady myself and turn back to face Gabi. Satisfied that I’m okay, Suzi waves Gabi back in and we continue our dance until the bell rings for the end of the round.
At the sound of the bell, I go back to my corner thankful that I stayed on my feet but conscious of the fact that’s all I managed to do. I remind myself that I’m still new to the boxing game, this is only my eighth fight, while Gabi has been boxing for at least 35 years and probably has over 100 victories to her name.
It no consolation. I’m younger than her and she hasn’t fought in two years. I should, at least, be giving her a run for her money but instead I’m being beaten senseless.
It’s no surprise when the score board shows she’s taken all the points again. Two rounds gone and I still haven’t scored a point while she has 17 to her credit. I have to get on the score board in the third.
Things start well for me, I can see she’s getting tired and I’m actually matching her blow for blow for much of the round. But it doesn’t last. As we move into the final minute of the round, she seems to get a second wind from somewhere. She lays into me with another left-right combination to the tits. My guard comes down. Another left hook to the jaw and down I go again.
The camera shows me face down on the canvas. I slowly get to my hands and knees. I shake my head and a shower of sweat flies off as I get slowly to my feet again, just beating the count.
Mercifully the round ends before she can mount another attack. I retreat to my corner sensing that I’ve done better in this round but nowhere near enough.
Sure enough, when the judges’ scores come in, I see they have scored the round 5-1 to her. Finally, I get a point but she gets seven so we’re now 1-24. I’ve never been so far behind half way through a fight.
As the song goes “the only way is up” or is it “things can only get better”? Either way as we come out for the fourth round, I get the sense that she may have shot her bolt. She’s clearly tiring and is much slower on her feet.
My spirits are lifted and I go on the attack. This time it’s me landing three or four blows to every one of hers but she stubbornly refuses to go down or even go for a clinch. For three minutes I batter her around the ring but at the end of the round all I have to show for it is more sweat and heaving breathing.
It was my best round so far and I’m devastated when the scores flash up and I see the judges score it 4-2 to me. I really felt I deserved all the points, even if I didn’t knock her down. I can’t do anything about that so I have to accept that we’re now at 5-26. I really don’t stand a hope unless I can knock her out and I still haven’t even managed to knock her down.
Going into the fifth I have no alternative but to throw caution to the wind and attack her relentlessly. Fortunately, she’s very tired now and my unguarded assault reaps rewards as my right cross puts her down for the first time. She makes it up at 8 but she’d unsteady on her feet and it only takes me a few well-placed lefts and rights to put her down again.
The sight of her struggling to get up gives me a boost. Maybe I can win this after all, but not this time. She’s back on her feet at 8 again.
I attack again and she back pedals around the ring until I back her on to the ropes. A left and a right to her tits brings her guard down, a left upper cut connects with her jaw and she drops face first to the mat.
OK, this time I’ve got her. Surely, she won’t get up from that. But she does. A nine count but she’s hanging in there. What do I have to do to win this?
The round is almost over. I attack again but this time I over reach myself. As I push home my attack she sidesteps and another crashing left hook puts me down again. I’m momentarily stunned and struggle to my feet at eight. I’m shocked at the force of her punch and spend the closing seconds of the round on the defensive again.
Those three knockdowns helped get me five of the judges’ points but going into the final round it’s still 16-29. I have to dominate the final round. I need to knock her down at least 4 times to win if I can’t knock her out.
The bell sounds for the final round. This is it. I go on the attack and immediately land a right to her temple and she goes down for a count of 8.
Back on her feet she’s still slow but, unlike the last two rounds, she’s not giving any ground and we continue to duke it out until a left to her right breast brings her guard down and a right hook to the jaw puts her down again.
Once more she just beats the count and we square off again. She throws a couple of left jabs and I back off, feinting to my left before ducking under her fist and rising to drive a right hook into her left temple.
With the round only half over, she goes down for the third time. Once again, she takes her time getting up but as soon as Suzi signals “box on” she’s back on the attack, determined to take the fight to me in the closing stages of the battle and hang on to that lead of hers.
I’m putting her down OK, the problem is she keeps getting up again. Suddenly Erica’s words echo through my head: “It might be her last ever match.” Of course she’s going to keep getting up, no one wants to go out on a low. She thought she had the fight in the bag 10 minutes ago. She’s struggling for survival now but she’s going down fighting.
We’re toe-to-toe, guards raise, still bobbing and weaving after almost 20 minutes of combat. Suddenly she moves her left and I spot an opening. I line up for my fourth knockdown of the round.
This is it!
Shit or bust!
If she goes down again, even if she gets up, if I can hang on until the end of the round I’ll win on points. I launch a right uppercut that passes between her breasts and curves up to connect with her jaw.
Just as it does, I feel a blow to the side of my head and I know I’m going down again. Everything goes black for a moment and I feel the canvas rise up to meet me, then I pass out.
The camera shows my uppercut knocking her off her feet just as her swinging left hook hits my right eye. We topple in different directions; she goes down flat on her back, I go down on my left side, ending up on my front. Suzi starts counting and initially neither of us moves as but then, at 3, I slowly raise my head.
I’m really struggling this time but I know I have to try and get up. I think to myself that I’ve hit her hard so she must be in a similar state. I get to my hands and knees but my legs are gone. I crawl toward the ropes on arm power alone. Suddenly I’m aware that Suzi is standing beside me counting. Is it possible Gabi’s already up? The count is at 8 and I’m at the ropes trying to pull myself up. Even if I make it will Suzi let me continue?
The camera shows the view from directly above the ring. Gabi is flat on her back, clearly out cold. I’m on my hands and knees crawling towards the ropes. Suzi stands beside me counting – she’s obviously given up on Gabi. I reach the ropes and start to pull myself up. The view switches to the ringside looking straight at me. You can see I’m struggling to get up. The count reaches 9. I try to stand but I can’t. The count reaches 10 and Suzi signals the end of the fight with me still hanging on the ropes. The bell sounds and I sink back to my knees, beaten by the clock.
So close, so close I’m thinking to myself. I finally turn my head to look at my opponent. She’s still flat on her back in the centre of the ring. Suzi looks concerned as she stands over her. I see Erica enter the ring. At that moment Gabi’s arm moves, the first sign she’s coming round. Emily is at my side now asking if I’m OK. She helps me into a seated position with my back on the ropes and I watch as Gabi slowly recovers enough to sit up herself. Emily helps me stand and walk back to my corner where I flop on a stool as she towels me down and offers me water to drink. Suzi wanders over; obviously less concerned about Gabi now, and asks me if I’m OK.
“Did I win?” I ask.
“No,” she smiles, “but you didn’t lose either.”
I’m confused but she wanders off to help Erica get Gabi back to her corner.
We both need a few minutes to recover but eventually we’re both able to stand and join Suzi in the centre of the ring as she announces the result
“Ladies and gentlemen. After two minutes and twenty seconds of round six, neither fighter was able to beat the count. I declare the result a double knockout and a draw.”
Wow! I wasn’t expecting that.
After this fight I went on to win my first senior boxing title, knocking out the legendary Jenny Black in the final. It would be another six years before Gabi put the gloves on again. That time it really was for the last time as the sixty-three-year-old faced a familiar opponent from her past - but that's another story.
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? we siad nothing but rushed at each other to get this catfight going Niki grabbed my hair and flung me to the ground like a rag doll she was all over me punches to my stomach and stinging slaps to my face she was like a wild catfighter that had been released she continued to punish me with all sorts of punishment I couldn’t really fight back she yelled in my ear how is that you little slut this is just the beginning she then pulled my top off and proceeded to mail my tits and nipples they were so sore and scratched and read then she turned me on my back and gave me one of her vicious face sits thank goodness she still had her panties still on it was then I asked for time out as the tears were running down my face my cheeks 