A Fist Fight

I never meant to hurt him. But then again that was the point. What else is the purpose of throwing your fists into another?



The Marine Corps Martial Art's Program (McMAP) is a requirement for all officers here at TBS. Most of it is very basic; how to throw a punch properly, how to get out of a choke hold, how to disarm someone with a knife. All simple things, but essential. And to put these skill to use, they have a 'practical application' in the form of a one on one boxing match. Although not a real boxing match, McMAP guidelines are that no one can hit to the face, so all hits are directed to the chest.


We all stood in a circle in the field by the parking lot. Shouts of motivation and encouragement were almost as loud as the boxing gloves hitting the chests of those fighting in the human formed ring. I stood by the end of the ring with my arms folded and watched the ensuing bout.

The two officers swung widely, like kids in a school yard. They buried their heads in their red head protection into one another and threw the black boxing gloves with all fervor to knock back their opponent. You could almost smell the adrenaline through the light rain, as they slowly ran out of steam and their bout came to a halt. You could tell that the training of the past 5 days had not set in, as most of the people fighting today applied none of the techniques, and simply reverted to their animal instincts. The Martial Arts instructors in the middle blew the whistle and directed the next two fights to come center ring.

My turn had arrived.


That familiar metallic taste from adrenaline filled my mouth as i smiled to the ref, showing my mouth piece. I squeezed my fists. The gloves were still warm from the last fight. The red padded head gear narrowed my vision, but not enough to stop me from looking directly at my opponent in front of me. He was shorter than me, but he out weighed me by about 15 pounds. His brow was narrow and he rolled his heavy shoulders forward. I could tell from the way he shifted back and forth on his feet that he was anxious to fight.

"Alright gentelmen," Said the ref, "Make sure you keep the hits to the body. Keep your head up and don't do none of this school yard shit thats been going on all day. Use the techniques. Go 50 percent. Touch gloves and go to it."

We touched gloves, and the fight began.


He immediately launched at me full force. I saw a hard right hook coming before it landed. Instinctively, i withdrew my forearms into my body, keeping my head up. He put his head down and swung widely, pelting my forearms and having no effect. He pushed me back toward the edge of the ring. People began to shout at me, telling me throw a punch already.

But I was waiting.

My strength was my height. I could generate a great deal of momentum if I have room to strike. Short and stalky fighters such as this one knew that. He was trying to stay close to keep me from being able to hit. From what i had observed earlier, many of the marines gassed out after about 20 seconds. I was gambling that his marine had just the same endurance before he took me out.


Pop!

A blow landed to my ribs on the left side. I felt it momentarily, but it faded immediately. His swings came hard, and he continued to follow me back as i finally reached the edge of the ring. I felt the other officers put their hands on my back to keep me in the ring. At the same time, I felt his hits become weaker. His breathing became quicker. He was loosing coordination.

He's out of gas

I pushed him back. He staggered back and brought up his guard. I moved forward one step and applied the fundamentals from what i was taught. I planted my foot, twisting my hips and generating power from there as a left jab, followed by a right hook landed on his guard, then on his upper right chest.

He launched another attack and attempted to swing rapidly again. I moved right, he lost his footing for a moment from being so tired. His guard dropped. Another hip generated punch to the chest. He moved into me and tried to cut off my reach. I pushed him back again to create some distance.

He now was playing my game. Mostly because he was out of breath, and also because he knew that he couldn't beat me from bum-rushing me. He stared to move back toward the center of the ring.

I threw a left jab. He Blocked. I threw another one, harder than i had before. He stepped back again. He threw a punch with his rear hand, but failed to come back to the proper warrior stance, leaving his guard wide open.

Time to strike, he's at his weakest


I launched a combination attack. Two left jabs, then a hard right that landed square in his ribs. He flinched. He tried to throw more fists with no effect. His guard dropped completely for only a moment. I saw it.

I planted my right foot and snapped my body as hard as a i could to bring all the force i had behind my right hook. I felt the glove pass his guard and land in the exact same spot. My wrist compress and I heard an audible Pop from the impact. My muscles in my arm absorbed the shock, as the wave of the impact traveled up to my shoulder. It was a hard hit...

Hard enough to have him step back and take a knee.


The ref came between me and the downed fighter. He told him to put his hand above his head and breath. He asked him a few questions as i stepped back. I saw him shake his head.

'Fights over!, next group!" said the ref.
'Sir" said the ref. "I said only 50 percent."
That was 50 percent I thought to myself.



This martial arts stuff is simple... but it works very well.