That's my fight record, above. It means that I will never, never be an undefeated fighter.
It also means that I'm frightened. I'm frightened that I'll never win, and this will happen a few more times, and then no one will be interested in fighting me -- the guy who can't win.
And I'm frightened because I liked doing the fight SO MUCH. I enjoyed it so much. Waiting in my corner between rounds, I was excited -- excited -- to hear the bell ring again and go back at it. I wanted more rounds. I wanted more fight. Still do.
I'm also frustrated, and upset. Frustrated at losing, and upset at myself. Or vice versa.
In the strange world world where ever anyone reads this, and if that anyone-ever has anything to do with me or my fighting, I'd like to outright give respect to my opponent, the guy who beat me on March 22nd 2014, whom we'll call L---. L--- was a gentleman before and after. He fought really well -- be outboxed me ten-to-one. Frankly, I'm upset about the outcome and the moment of decision was a surprise (I outkicked him). But I was inside the fight, not watching. I don't want to take anything away from L---'s victory. He nearly knocked me out in Round 2; he's a gentleman and a fighter, and it'd be a privilege to match with him again.
I lost on decision, which means that we fought through 3 rounds, 2 minutes each (standard for an amateur kickboxing bout). Then the judges made a selection. The announcer did not say whether or not it was unanimous, I don't think.
I suspect I lost -- I don't know, really; one reason I'm scared is that as I said I really thought I'd won in that moment before the decision came down, standing in the middle of the ring with the ref holding both my and L---'s gloved hands -- back to this: I suspect I lost in Round 2. And, perhaps in general, from taking too many shots to the head.face. They weren't so hard, most of them, but like I said L--- clearly outboxed me throughout (I think. Still haven't seen the video). And in Round 2, one of those punches was hard: a real dazzler that stang my brain, wobbled my legs, etc. I came back right after it, right after it, but that may not have been enough.
I thought I'd won because, while he was boxing more effectively, I was kicking better and more and generally being more aggressive with respect to advancing on him and pushing the fight. Coach, afterward, said that sure you were being aggressive but you weren't throwing anything, weren't doing anything, not enough action. That could well be right. I mean, I'm sure it is right. But again, there was that feeling.
I got off a decent head kick in the 3rd Round. It wasn't a barnstormer, but it landed. I was pleased with that.
In the weeks leading up to the fight -- actually months before, but it only became relevant as the fight approached -- I had this document on my computer's desktop with one sentence:
I was worried about not doing this. I was worried that my tendency to look for brotherhood in sparring -- which I think is a good thing -- would extend to the fight. As S---, a terrific boxer at TBI told me about the fight mentality: you're not friends. I was thinking about this in the lead-up to the fight, when both L--- and I were being courteous to the point of friendliness to each other.
I guess if I'm pleased about something, in addition to the fact that I didn't know poop myself or whatever, it's that I think I succeeded in that. I felt good about how I conducted myself towards my opponent. And then I feel good about my intention of aggression in the ring. Obviously -- per Coach, per the judges -- the execution was insufficient. But I don't think it was a failure of will, or "fight." I think I brought a good first-blood sense of attack. I want to bring that again next time, better, more focused, more devastatingly.
And for goodness' sake get hit in the face less.
I'm looking forward to seeing the video. Rather: I'm not looking forward to it, but I want to. To study it. I suspect I know what needs doing for the next fight. I hope there's a next. If there's a next, here's the list:
-- get rigorous about diet and making weight.
-- get rigorous about how/whether to rest before the fight.
-- work my boxing defense: chin-down-hands up, hands not too high, parry and move. Again, this is probably why I lost the fight... a lot of points lost trading hits and getting the worse with the boxing.
-- more subtly: my legs are strong and I use them all right, but I don't feel on them all the time. Like, I don't feel relentlessly confident against catches and sweeps, in particular, which can hold back my aggression. I want to figure out how to center and lower my balance, while still kicking as much.
-- I discovered too late that my knees are good weapons. Work knees.
-- I want to be stronger. I lift, but I lift light for 10-15 reps. I think I should, at least sometimes, shift to heavy for 5-8.
I thought this post would go on forever, but that's kind of all I want to say.
It also means that I'm frightened. I'm frightened that I'll never win, and this will happen a few more times, and then no one will be interested in fighting me -- the guy who can't win.
And I'm frightened because I liked doing the fight SO MUCH. I enjoyed it so much. Waiting in my corner between rounds, I was excited -- excited -- to hear the bell ring again and go back at it. I wanted more rounds. I wanted more fight. Still do.
I'm also frustrated, and upset. Frustrated at losing, and upset at myself. Or vice versa.
In the strange world world where ever anyone reads this, and if that anyone-ever has anything to do with me or my fighting, I'd like to outright give respect to my opponent, the guy who beat me on March 22nd 2014, whom we'll call L---. L--- was a gentleman before and after. He fought really well -- be outboxed me ten-to-one. Frankly, I'm upset about the outcome and the moment of decision was a surprise (I outkicked him). But I was inside the fight, not watching. I don't want to take anything away from L---'s victory. He nearly knocked me out in Round 2; he's a gentleman and a fighter, and it'd be a privilege to match with him again.
I lost on decision, which means that we fought through 3 rounds, 2 minutes each (standard for an amateur kickboxing bout). Then the judges made a selection. The announcer did not say whether or not it was unanimous, I don't think.
I suspect I lost -- I don't know, really; one reason I'm scared is that as I said I really thought I'd won in that moment before the decision came down, standing in the middle of the ring with the ref holding both my and L---'s gloved hands -- back to this: I suspect I lost in Round 2. And, perhaps in general, from taking too many shots to the head.face. They weren't so hard, most of them, but like I said L--- clearly outboxed me throughout (I think. Still haven't seen the video). And in Round 2, one of those punches was hard: a real dazzler that stang my brain, wobbled my legs, etc. I came back right after it, right after it, but that may not have been enough.
I thought I'd won because, while he was boxing more effectively, I was kicking better and more and generally being more aggressive with respect to advancing on him and pushing the fight. Coach, afterward, said that sure you were being aggressive but you weren't throwing anything, weren't doing anything, not enough action. That could well be right. I mean, I'm sure it is right. But again, there was that feeling.
I got off a decent head kick in the 3rd Round. It wasn't a barnstormer, but it landed. I was pleased with that.
In the weeks leading up to the fight -- actually months before, but it only became relevant as the fight approached -- I had this document on my computer's desktop with one sentence:
The thing is to stop thinking of fighting as something you
do together.
I was worried about not doing this. I was worried that my tendency to look for brotherhood in sparring -- which I think is a good thing -- would extend to the fight. As S---, a terrific boxer at TBI told me about the fight mentality: you're not friends. I was thinking about this in the lead-up to the fight, when both L--- and I were being courteous to the point of friendliness to each other.
I guess if I'm pleased about something, in addition to the fact that I didn't know poop myself or whatever, it's that I think I succeeded in that. I felt good about how I conducted myself towards my opponent. And then I feel good about my intention of aggression in the ring. Obviously -- per Coach, per the judges -- the execution was insufficient. But I don't think it was a failure of will, or "fight." I think I brought a good first-blood sense of attack. I want to bring that again next time, better, more focused, more devastatingly.
And for goodness' sake get hit in the face less.
I'm looking forward to seeing the video. Rather: I'm not looking forward to it, but I want to. To study it. I suspect I know what needs doing for the next fight. I hope there's a next. If there's a next, here's the list:
-- get rigorous about diet and making weight.
-- get rigorous about how/whether to rest before the fight.
-- work my boxing defense: chin-down-hands up, hands not too high, parry and move. Again, this is probably why I lost the fight... a lot of points lost trading hits and getting the worse with the boxing.
-- more subtly: my legs are strong and I use them all right, but I don't feel on them all the time. Like, I don't feel relentlessly confident against catches and sweeps, in particular, which can hold back my aggression. I want to figure out how to center and lower my balance, while still kicking as much.
-- I discovered too late that my knees are good weapons. Work knees.
-- I want to be stronger. I lift, but I lift light for 10-15 reps. I think I should, at least sometimes, shift to heavy for 5-8.
I thought this post would go on forever, but that's kind of all I want to say.
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