Object Inspired

Colin Harper
KHS Creative Writing
Mayhemharper152@gmail.com
4 March 2016

Sparring Gloves

        

              I held my black and red gloves as I walked through the front doors of Hybrid MMA. There had been recent talk of a fighter returning that had been asked to leave months before I had joined. His name was Michael, and I had never met him before. My friends had all said he had a big mouth, and was very over-confident. I never knew that this mysterious person would turn out to be one of my best friends.

As I came through the doors, I saw all of the familiar faces I was accustomed to seeing at practice. However, there was one person I had never seen before. A kid, no more than 5'6" was walking around the room as if he owned the place. He looked to be about nineteen years old. As soon as he saw me, I could tell he was sizing me up. He had his jaw outstretched, with the intention of looking extra tough.

It was obvious that the kid was a fighter, as he wore apparel from all of the top brands in the business. I practiced with him some that day, and he went very hard, all the time. I don't know when it was, but at some point within the next few weeks that we were training together, he began to take a liking to me. Soon we were discussing his high school wrestling days, and talking about our favorite fighters.

We became good friends, training every day together and helping each other towards our ultimate goals. He helped me establish a strong striking game, and pushed me to become a better fighter. Whenever I would lose my confidence, he would always help give me some back, because it was obvious he had way too much.

For the better part of a year, him and me, along with our other partners, trained in the cage and on the mats, and supported each other in our fights. I remember driving to Branson to watch Michael fight, only to have his opponent be a no-show. Michael was devastated. The fight promotion tried to give him the belt he was fighting for to honor his commitment, but he declined it since he didn’t earn it. Michael was a big talker, but he never said anything he didn’t truly believe that he could back up. He had a 6-0 record in the cage, and never let anyone get away with saying that they could beat him.

I remember him telling me that I always needed to believe that I was the best ever.

“TBE. The Best Ever. That has to be your mindset.” Were his exact words. Whenever we would train, we would remind each other that we were TBE.

I still think back to that now before my wrestling matches. I remember all of the pep-talks on confidence that he gave me. Michael moved to Oregon to expand his training, as he is now hoping to become a pro fighter. We still keep in touch, and tell each other about our fighting and wrestling. Whenever I see my red and black boxing gloves, it reminds me of the time I first saw that short kid with his jaw outstretched, and his confidence a little too high.