Okay, so yeah. It’s a shiner. And my nose kinda got in the way of a southpaw’s straight left, too.
I did five rounds last night but wasn’t on my mental game, which seemed to glue my feet to the canvas. I could see lots of punches coming, but it was like one train seeing another train coming head-on down the exact same track and being utterly powerless to unshackle those iron wheels and get the hell out. The best I could do was barrel foward and hope that I could take more impact than the other could. There was damage involved.
I was hungry and contemplative after I showered and got back on the road home, so I detoured into Wendy’s for a small fries – a treat I would otherwise never touch. It was 10 pm, and the flourescents were not kind. The hispanic woman taking my order looked everywhere except at my face, and after I sat down, the only person inPowered by Sidelines