CHAPTER 9

Chief wrapped Alex’s hands in tape and gave him some last-minute advice. “Get your feet moving early. How’re you feeling?”

“Like a tractor ran over my gut,” said Alex.

“That’s okay,” said Chief. “It means the adrenaline is kicking in. Jeff Fenech used to get so nervous he’d throw up before a fight.”

“Dad, don’t talk about spewing.”

“Sorry.”

They got the call from the official. Chief shook his head. “I can’t believe my son is having his first fight. Win or lose, I’m proud of you.”

They hopped through the ropes. “And Alex,” said Chief, “you’re ready.”

He should’ve been. He’d lived and breathed boxing the last few weeks, and was even thinking about changing his name to Muhammad.

The bell rang, the boxers hit each other’s gloves and the fight was on. Unfortunately for Alex, Lupo Tapini was also ready. And unlike Alex he’d had five previous fights and won them all. He tagged Alex on the side of the head early in the round.

“Dance!” Chief yelled.

Alex’s head was spinning but his feet obeyed, and he stayed away from Lupo for a minute or so. Alex tried a few jabs but it was like everything was happening in slow motion, except Lupo’s punches. Towards the end of the round Lupo landed a combination — boom, boom — in the left rib and right cheek. It was all Alex could do to stay upright.

“This guy can really fight,” said Chief as he squirted water into Alex’s mouth after the round. “You want me to throw in the towel?”

Alex spat the water into a bucket. “No.”

The second round wasn’t much better. It was Lupo chasing Alex around the ring. Because Alex was quick he didn’t get tagged too often, which was just as well because Lupo could punch the lights out of a suburban street. Once when they got into a clinch Lupo hit Alex in the gut, and for a few seconds Alex thought he’d never breathe again.

The bell rang and Alex was thankful he only had to survive one more round. Deep down, though, he didn’t want to just survive, he wanted to win. But with Lupo doing all of the attacking, Alex would need a knockout. And that would take a miracle.

“What do I do?” Alex asked Chief as the bell sounded for Round 3.

“You gotta stay calm,” said Chief. “You can hit him. Just keep moving, be patient and take your chance when it comes.”

It wasn’t till halfway through the round that Alex put Chief’s advice into action. The tiredness made his fear dissolve and a second wind kicked in from all of the skipping, stomach exercises and running he’d done. Alex could see Lupo starting to back off slightly.

He must be stuffed from all that punching.

Lupo’s hands dropped a fraction and Alex took his chance. He danced in — two quick steps. Jab, jab. Bang! Right in the noggin.

Lupo looked stunned. That’s because he was. In his first five fights he’d never been hit so hard before. In fact, he’d never been hit.

“Get to the ropes!” yelled his corner-man.

Lupo was shaky but his training kicked in. He stumbled backwards and found the ropes for support. Alex moved in and started throwing combinations, ripping uppercuts into the ribs and searching for the knockout blow to the mandible. Lupo covered up like he was taught, holding his hands in front of his head while he bobbed it around, creating a moving target. A moving target that was copping a caning.

The referee stopped the fight, to check how Lupo was.

“I’m fine, sir,” Lupo said. He was a good liar.

Before Alex could do any more damage the bell rang. Lupo was wandering aimlessly into the wrong corner until his trainer came and got him.

“The ref should have stopped it,” said Chief. “You beat the hell out of him.”

They waited for the decision, the ref holding each fighter’s glove. Someone pointed and the ref lifted one glove up.

Alex’s hand never moved.

As he walked out of the ring Alex felt numb, sure there was a mistake. The son of the great Chief Jackson losing his first fight? Impossible. Then on his way to the car, exhaustion hit and disappointment delivered the knockout blow. Air gushed out of his throat and his shoulders shook.

Real boxers don’t cry.

Chief pulled him close. “You got nothing to be ashamed of, son. You fought like a man.”

“I still lost.”

“You didn’t lose. You just ran out of time.”

The side of Alex’s head started to throb. “I’m sick of losing,” he said, almost to himself.