Before the Fight

I was practicing in the changing room with coach to warm up for the fight. Coach was screaming the combinations at me “Left! Left! Right!”. I knew he was screaming at me to make me more aggressive and more viscous, which was what I had been known for all my life. Aggressive and viscous. Ever since I was a child, I would constantly be in fights in the schoolyard beating up other kids. The truth is that I kind of enjoyed it. The feeling of being able to overpower someone else with just my bare hands. It was my father that taught me how to fight. Every time he came home from work, we would practice out in the garage where we had all our equipment, gloves, mats, punching bags and weights. That was all I needed to be happy throughout my childhood. While all my friends were outside playing soccer or basketball, I would be in that garage every single day practicing and fighting with my dad. My mom died when I was very young. It completely broke my dad. It resulted in him starting to drink more often to wash away the pain and suffering he was going through. It also made him very violent, especially towards me. If I for instance did not do my homework, he would punish me through violence. I would even somedays come to school with a black eye and when the teachers asked questions I would never tell on my dad because I loved him. Even though he could be very violent and abusive, he could also be a loving and caring father that taught me responsibility and how to become a man.