Worth the fight(71)

Nico just stands there, blankly staring at his opponent, even as Trevor recovers, taking his time to get up, wobbling to his feet before regaining his footing. It’s as if he’s quit the fight, except there’s still more than two minutes on the clock until the end of the round. But even though Nico might have thrown in the towel, his opponent sees it as an opportunity. He hits Nico with a left, then a quick right. The second punch landing so hard that I watch in slow motion as Nico’s head swings to the side and blood splatters from his nose all over the shiny grey canvas below.

I’m watching in horror as Nico is pummeled, each series of blows taking my breath away. He’s not even protecting himself, he’s just standing there and taking it, like it’s his punishment and he needs to be man enough to accept it. Preach is screaming like a madman from the sideline, trying to snap Nico out of it, but it’s as if he doesn’t even hear him. I wince at each strike, silently begging for the ref to stop the fight. I don’t know the rules, but this can’t be legal. Clearly, the ref sees that Nico has checked out and being in the cage is dangerous to a man that won’t even protect himself. But they let the fight go on and on, and it’s the longest two minutes of my entire life.

By the time the bell sounds at the end of the round, Nico is a bloody mess and I want to die. I feel helpless and I want to run into the cage and grab him and hold him tight against me and tell him everything is going to be okay. Only I can’t.

The crowd doesn’t know what to make of things either. The once frenzied chant of Nico! Nico! has died out and even Vinny and Max are eerily silent in their seats. It’s as if they’ve all accepted the path that Nico has chosen…but I can’t. I won’t. I refuse.

The final round starts off almost the same as the last one ended, with Nico getting his face pummeled and him doing little to change things. I don’t understand why everyone is so quiet. His brothers are all sitting and his mother sits silently on the edge of her chair, looking pale, her face turned away from the fight. She can’t even bear to watch.

I just can’t sit and quietly watch him go down without a fight. So I don’t. I get up on my chair and start screaming. Like a loon. The people around me are staring, but I don’t care. Screw them, they were all chanting his name when he was winning, but where are they now? After a few more punches that few men would be able to endure, let alone stand after, Trevor lunges and takes Nico down to the mat. The two men wrestle around for a few seconds, and then Trevor emerges on top, Nico’s arm pinned behind his back, his head to the ground.

“Get up Nico! God damn it, Get up!” My screams are torn from my lungs, each word burning as it bleeds from me. I don’t know if he hears me yelling, but somehow I doubt it since Preach is closer and can’t seem to get his attention. But then something happens. Nico lifts his head from the mat, his arm still pinned behind his back, and I could swear, for just a split second, he looks right at me.

There’s less than a minute left in the match, but we both know that so much can change in a single minute. The course of an entire life can be redirected, a man can choose to live, a man can die unexpectedly. Nothing is over until you call it quits or you take your last breath.

I have no idea how Nico gets himself out of the hold that Trevor had him in without breaking his own arm, but less than two seconds have ticked from the clock and Nico is back on his feet and there’s a fire in his eyes. Trevor gets back up and readies himself, expecting to continue the fight, but it’s no longer a continuation, it’s suddenly a whole new fight. Nico lands a blow to the ribs and his opponent staggers back three steps. There’s no time for Trevor to recover, to regain his footing, before Nico lunges, taking him down to the mat. And then Nico’s on top, landing blow after blow, each more heartbreaking than the next, even though it’s Nico I want to come out unscathed.

There’s less than ten seconds on the clock when Nico backs off slightly, but his stubborn opponent lifts his head, trying desperately to get back on his weary feet. And then Nico winds up and strikes. Hard. The man’s head wobbles, seemingly unhinged from side to side, his eyes rolling back into his head before they both close. I watch in slow motion as his head bounces up and down twice more before finally coming to rest lifelessly on the mat.

The arena goes silent. There are twenty thousand people in one room, yet I can hear the paramedic who rushed into the cage bark out orders and the ref instructs the men in suits watching from the sidelines that he’s calling the fight. KO.

They wave something under the unconscious fighter’s nose and I see his head shake from side to side. He’s awake and alive and there’s a collective sigh heard around the arena. After a few minutes, Trevor gets up with assistance from his trainer and walks out of the cage. But Nico is still standing there, staring at the place where Trevor once laid, even as the ref raises his arm in victory. The crowd goes wild, but I see it in Nico’s face, there’s no cause for celebration.