Beaten Down Blues

Meghan Hannity had trained hard and fought as an amateur in her native Ireland.  The feisty redhead had given up her other loves, her boyfriend, chocolate, parties, pubs, free time, all of that for her love of being in the gym and then in the ring.  She had run miles in the early morning light, in the dark during the cold wet Irish winter.  At the gym she had shadowboxed, worked the bags, done mitt work with her trainer. sparred with boys to toughen her up. She had dieted, gone to bed early and exhausted and got up before dawn to run again.  Day after day, week after week, month after month.  She was fit and prepared but fights were hard to come by between the few national competitions.  Meghan wanted to fight!  Not just to train endlessly. She wanted the adrenaline rush and the buzz of a crowd who had come to see her fight.  Her trainer said there would be more opportunities for her as a pro and her style was more suited to pro fights anyway. 

So she turned pro and quickly won a fight in Ireland against the only woman who wanted to box her there.  Then she slogged across the Irish Sea, getting seasick on the ferry before taking a crowded train up to London to fight a British girl who was making her own pro debut.  That girl sucked!  She had turned her back to Meghan and quit in the first minute of the first round.  That long trip by sea and land had been a total waste of time and the winner's purse barely paid for Meghan's travel fare.  The crowd had actually booed because the other girl was so bad. 

So Meghan had been over the moon when her trainer heard there was a chance for her to fight in America.  Megan thought about bright lights, big cities, the big time, her big chance!!  She was Mean Meghan Hannity and she would soon be a star!

Nah, it was a local show in Tulsa, Oklahoma.  But they had been willing to pay her air fare on the cheapest flight possible plus a few hundred bucks a round to bring her over to fight a girl who was unbeaten in her first six and had run out of local opponents. The promoter in Tulsa was an Irish ex-pat so he knew a little about Meghan.   It wasn't the big fight in the big city that she had dreamed about, but it was a chance to start making her name across the pond, a chance for all her hard work to pay off.  Finally. 

One problem. The local girl could fight.  It was close for a couple of rounds but she was landing brutal shots to Meghan's ribs and tummy that really hurt the redhead. 

Another problem.  Nobody had warned Meghan about jet lag, or told her to bring her own food and water.  She wasn't feeling quite right even before those body shots began to get to her.  Her body clock was out of synch and her gut wasn't used to the local fare she'd eaten so she was unusually weak and tired after just two rounds.  The fight was set for six. 

Another problem. They hadn't been able to come up with the air fare to bring her own trainer on the trip with her so some girls from a boxing gym in Tulsa were cornering for her. They were nice enough to Meghan as they didn't like her opponent but all they could do for her between rounds was clean her up and encourage her, rinse her mouth with water, make sure her mouthguard was in.  Just very basic stuff.  But she was losing the fight and she needed her trainer to tell her what she was doing wrong. 

She lost the third round.

Early in the fourth round came a savage digging left to her liver, just barely legal above the black waist band of her green trunks.  That shot bent her over and she was in big trouble.  It instantly became bigger trouble as she got whacked by an uppercut to her nose that she never saw.  The arena, the crowd, the ring, her opponent spun out of focus as pain flooded her tiring body and she dropped to her knees.  Meghan was hurt, stunned and desperately alone.  What the hell had just happened?  A voice was counting ... three, four, five ...  She looked down at blue canvas between her purple gloves, her vision blurry, her mind blurrier.  She got herself together enough to stare for a moment at a red splatter that was growing on the blue canvas below her.  There was blood dripping from her nose.  

All that work, all this way, all that sacrifice, all that time .., for this?