The Fight

By sayid92

The Fight by Daniel Saidian
The energy came from doing stadium steps at six in the morning everyday. The power came from benching 400 lbs. for two hours. The courage, that came from home.
I was punching the bag it was the day before my first shot at the title. My trainer was pushing me to my limits. Everything he was doing he didn’t hold back. He tested my speed, my strength, my agility and my spirit. He was once a boxer also, but he was older and had retired. He had a wrinkled face white hair and he was short. I did everything he said, I did everything he said knock out punches, hooks, jabs and anything I did I got it right. He told me to take the rest of the night off and relax before the fight.
So I did, I went to my penthouse in downtown Manhattan with my wife and children. But my mom was there with her husband, a man that I’ll never be able to call father, crying in my shoulder begging me not to go. “Why are you doing this?” my mother said in my arms. “Because I have to” I replied, I tried to show no emotion even though I was scared myself; after all, this guy actually killed a man in his last match and no one fought him since then. “Why….Why do you have to” she said crying.
“I have to because any nazi deserves pain after what happened to dad” I said in a sad tone. She went back into my arms crying. She was a survivor of the Holocaust, but my father, unfortunately, had died while she was pregnant in a concentration camp. She remarried to a young man who I never liked. Why? Maybe its was because he always called me son, or because he threw me out of the house for ten years and spoke to me only after I became a contender.
But with this having the chance of being my last night alive and walked up to him and said “I’m sorry for anything I’ve done to you” and walked away. I didn’t even hear anything he said, just plainly because I didn’t care.
I went up to my wife and kissed her, then I picked my little girl, she wasn’t even a year old. If tomorrow goes the wrong way, she might never get to know me. My wife may not have been beautiful in the eyes of other men, but to me she was everything. Vibrant red hair, beautiful face, medium height, and a perfect body. She had always called me crazy for being a boxer, but tonight was the first time that she hadn’t told me that and said “make sure to hit once for me” we talked for a while about the fight and all press conferences and what happened at the weigh in.
The weigh in was a touchy subject, because no one knew what happened for sure. I was on the scale first, so as I walk down, I make eye contact with him. He gives me a death stare and I grin because of how he was trying to pull off a psychological war along with the fight. He gets weighed and walks down, and goes straight for me. and in his accent that strongly resembles Arnold Swartzanager’s says “You are going down!” and I turn my head and start walking I didn’t want the press to show the fight we had before the actual match. But something happened, someone jabbed my head from behind. I turn around and I see my opponent is walking away, so I lunge at him, grab his by his neck drag him down and start beating down at him. He shoved me off and gave one strong jab to my head and I was knocked out for the next day. The thing is, to this day I don’t know who hit me. Anton Abendroth, my opponent had come to visit me the day after I was released where I was training. He said he didn’t know who hit me and the fight was unnecessary but he is still a hundred percent and he wanted to make sure I was because he wanted a fair fight. I remember what I said back and I don’t think I will ever forget it. “Well, at least you want a fair fight so when I beat you, you can’t complain.”

The day of the fight I got up at 5:30 as usually put on socks, running shoes and shorts and ran to Madison Square Garden. I ran straight to the boxing section, and into the room that will hold my fight. I walked in and I looked up I saw my opponent on the banner above my head. Pale blond hair blue eyes and red shorts with a black swastika on it. Then I looked up at the banner next to his it showed a man that I did not even realize, wearing white shorts with blue stripes, black hair, brown eyes and a big nose with a dark complexion stood, me;. I kept staring at my picture thinking about the hype for the match tonight, and how all the headlines read History Repeats Itself or Can the Jew beat the Nazi for the belt and more?. I kept thinking that the next time I was here that I will be walking on the floor walking into the fight of a lifetime, as thousands of fans cheer as I walk down the aisle to the ring.
I spent the rest of the day walking around the city with a baseball cap to hide my face. The streets were filled with tourists and the locals who were talking about the fight. It was the front page of all the papers the magazines it was the biggest thing that had happened in the city since the New York Giants had come back from the Superbowl crowned champions. The event was displayed all over Times Square, Broadway, Union Square, and Central Park. In fact, you could not get away from it so I decided to go to my Synagogue and pray before the big fight. The synagogue was nothing special; it was an ark for the torah and a podium in the middle of the room for the leader of the congregation. The room had a couple of windows but they couldn’t open, which meant the room was hot. At 4 o’clock I went to my rabbi for a final blessing and then to the Garden. I was shacking as I was going through, sure, I was prepared and I knew it but the fight itself, just like any other fight, made you scared before it.
But even that feeling didn’t compare to what I felt. This fight is for the 6,000,000 Jews that died, this fight was for what happened in the second world war. But most importantly this fight is for what happened to my father.
I got to the garden unable to stand because of my nervousness. So I sat in the locker room as my corner crew slowly comes in. My coach was already there, and he was trying to calm me, but nothing was working.
I was still when I heard his music playing and the crowd booing him. It was the music that Hitler’s storm troopers marched to. But it didn’t scare me. As a matter of fact it just gave me more fuel, more rage and more of a need to win. I walked out to the Israeli national anthem and got to the ring with the fans cheering on. I see egg yolk on his arm and grin, someone had thrown an egg at him while he was walking down aisle. In the ring there were officials and as the announcer was Michael Buffer. The microphone descended from the ceiling as he grabs it and says “From Madison Square Garden in New York City, for the thousands in attendance and the millions watching around the world, Ladies and Gentlemen, Llllet's get ready to rumble! In the red corner we have weighing in at 198 from Berlin Germany, Anton Abendroth” the crowd starts booing him “and in the blue corner weighing in at 200 pounds from Tel-Aviv Israel Yehoshua Goldman” the crowd starts cheering for me.
The referee tell us the usual watch the punches to kidneys and have a good clean fight, touch go to your corners and come out fighting. The walk to the corner felt like a mile as I saw everything I would lose in this fight if it went out of control, if he lost control. We came out of our corners, and at that point I was fully focused on him, as if nothing else in the world matters now, the whole first round was us two exchanging jabs to the face. The second is where I was knocked down for the first time because of unexpected uppercut to my gut. The blow made me feel that he really doesn’t care how much pain he inflicts on me, if it is illegal or not, he really does have a passion to kill me. The rounds feeling like years, after exchanging blow for blow; giving everything we had.
But now it was the last round; this is where it came to, this is where it mattered. I was in better shape than him we were both panting for breath but his nose was broken and he was tired, I had the edge. The bell rang and we went into the battle I gave a gook hook to the face and he fell right to the floor, I felt my hand shatter his jaw, I felt my hand take him out, but at the count on nine he had risen. I will never forget what happened next he went for a hook and I dodged it, but it was a trap he hit me straight in the face with his other hand and I was down. I will never forget the feel of the leather of his glove bash against my face shoving my nose in. as the referee counts I see my mother crying in the crown then I look away and I see someone eyes wide open in shock. Then I turn and I see a black and white man, he was my dad, just as I had seen him in the pictures that my mother had kept. At this point the referee was at the count of eight. I rose with all my might and I punched one more time and he was out for good. I had won.
I never had felt anything like it the joy, the relief of all the stress of the fight it was over. But as my family and friends came in and Michael Buffer announcing the winner; Anton comes towards me and starts beating me down. Everything became fuzzy and then it all started to fade away; then there was nothing.
I wake up three months later; I found out that I was beaten into a comma. I also had found out that I had a severe head injury which explained the throbbing that I was experiencing. But this meant that I will no longer be able to fight and forced to retire. I was officially the champion but Abendorth had kept it because I was in a comma, and now I will never be able to claim it, because of my situation.
When I went home to with my family, my mother was so relieved that I was no longer in such a dangerous profession. “Now you can get a real job” she said, she never approved but my wife did, even though it was too dangerous. Now I live an average life, but I will always remember that night, the night the Jew beat the Nazi, even though the world has.

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The Fight

Created: Jul 27, 2010

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