The Fighter

Arturo was afraid to admit that he was scared. Tomorrow, he would make his professional boxing debut. He had prepared well. He had over forty amateur fights, winning the Chicago Golden Gloves in the process. He had also finished third in the National Golden Gloves before deciding to go pro.

He never realized how much went into being a professional fighter. Along with increased training, he had to jump through all of the hoops. There was more paperwork that he ever imagined, along with blood tests, eye tests and other tests he couldn't even remember. Then, there were the politics.

The promoter he was working with was as pompous as you could get. Still, Arturo had to say all of the right things to get him to agree to put him on the card. It must have worked because tomorrow Arturo would get $800 to fight in the local casino.

The recent weeks had been really tough, but good. His training had peaked and his conditioning had never been better. His fight was only four rounds, but he was sparring ten consecutive rounds and then running after that. He was confident but scared. He had over 50 people coming to see him and though he had fought in front of crowds before, this seemed different. The lights would be brighter, the music louder. He knew if he put on a good fight, the promoter would ask him to be on his next show. But, If he lost?

As he stood on the scale, he heard the commission announce that he had made weight, 154 pounds on the nose. Then he moved to the other end of the stage where he was face to face with his opponent. "You don't scare me," snarled Arturo and he meant it.



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