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Luca throws a light jab to my forearm, and I use my elbow to parry his strike. He then throws another jab followed by a straight right as I hold my guard to keep him out.
And it feels good.
I give him a nod and he delivers a combo, keeping his strikes light and targeted at my forearms as I parry each one, my confidence stirring.
“Harder,” I say, angling my guard towards him as he shifts his weight.
“That’s what he said.” He smirks over his gloves at me as he bounces on his toes.
I blow out a breath. “Come on, do it.”
“He also said that.”
“Fuck you.”
“Yeah, that too.”
I glare at him between my gloves, and he snorts.
“Ok, ok. Here comes the heat.”
He lays a straight right-left hook-straight right combo on me, and I feel the weight behind it.
But my feet are steady, my head is clear, and my guard remains.
“More.”
Luca smiles, tapping his gloves together. “Fuck yeah.”
He continues to throw strikes in various combos, coming on quick and long at times but keeping his power behind the hits low. And with each one, I block, redirect, and position him where I want him.
And right when he shifts his weight, attempting to move to my outside and throw me off, I lower my inside glove and land a hook to his open ribs.
He grunts as he falters in his step, so I lay a jab-straight right-left hook combo on him, getting him in the jaw.
“The fuck.” He backs up, lifting a glove to his jaw. “Dude, I don’t have a mouthguard in.”
I just stare back at him, dropping my gloves to my sides.
And as Luca meets my eyes, he smiles. “Hey there, Tiger.”
A small smile forms for me as well, as that did feel good, and it does feel like progress. But… it still doesn’t feel like enough. I still need to be able to take a full hit to the head, and time is not on my side.
“I need more,” I say. “Getting hit on my guard isn’t–”
“Oh my god.” Luca rolls his eyes and sighs. “Just accept this as a step in the right direction and take at least a couple seconds to celebrate this achievement.”
A forceful exhale escapes me as I shake my arms out, not willing to admit that he’s kind of right. It is a step in the right direction. And even though it’s slow… it’s progress. The more I do this, the more comfortable I’ll feel. And, as Luca annoyingly pointed out, spending more time in guard is not a bad thing. I can only benefit from having a well-rounded defensive posture for a heavily pressuring opponent.
And as I look into Luca’s eyes, I’m overcome with gratitude for him. That guilt I’ve been feeling morphs into an intense need to help him as much as he’s been helping me.
“A good fighter will find his opponent’s weakness, and exploit it,” I say.
Luca nods. “Yeah, but it won’t be a weakness by the time you step into the cage.”
I nod as well. “Your opponent is expecting a striker.”
His brow furrows. “Yeah… because I am.”
