Paul Soma Boxed In

August 28, 2007 The anger that rushed through me can only be compared to the destructive force with which a volcano erupts. It is not the first time that Manny McLellan had pulled a stunt like this. The judges had no interest in watching my fight with Barredo tonight; the fight had been a set up. McLellan has had a stranglehold on the National Boxing Federation for a decade. Ever since I turned him down, he has been out to destroy my career. He wants me to train alongside his top contender, Isaac Frost. I will never turn my back on my fathers gym or Gus, my fathers trainer. Since the day that my father died I swore I would be the greatest fighter in the worldwithout the corruption of McLellan. * This is bullshit, Gus! If I had known a round earlier that the judges were going to fuck me, I would have knocked that sorry Phillipino on his ass. One more round. That is all I needed to show McLellan what I am capable of. To let him know that I wont be fucked with! I clearly am not beaten on or worn out by the fight. It was supposed to be an easy throw a combo and stepaside win for me; the decision should have been in my favor. Youre right, kid, but you cant let that piece of scum get in your head. You know you won that fight, so move on. Your record is only a number. You have to believe that you are the best. And show up to a fight and act as the best. Gus has bags under his eyes. He can never sleep the night before a fight. He is inevitably a nervous wreck and I hate it because I feel responsible. My father told me when I was a kid that Gus is the best in the business; that he isnt in it for the money but for the love of the sport. Gus is a workhorse when it came down to it. Im debating on running over to McDouchebags office and taking his head off. This has to end, Gus. He thinks he can run boxing. Well fuck him and fuck Isaac Frost because Im going

to be NBF World Champion. Whatever he throws at me will only make me stronger and work harder. October 2, 2007 What do you want to eat, Shawn? Ill make you eggs and either sausage or ham. My wife Abigail always made me breakfast on the day of my fathers memorial. Ham, please. I wonder who will show up this year. He always had the most friends out of anyone I knew. My father was a people person. He befriended everyone he could. I spoke to Mr. and Mrs. Quick. They will be there, along with the whole gang of Turners. The Quicks and the Turners were very close family friends; my father has known them since high school. There is a knock on the door. Once. Twice. I shuffle towards the sound. It is my baby brother Ledell. What up, bro! Shawn-aaaaay! Hows it hangin? Like a pair of golden gloves. As our father would say. Haha! You know it. Dont let Almighty Andre know that were stealing his famous line! He wouldnt mind! Damn, bro, why do you have to outdress me every time? You know me, I stay on top of my game. Abby! Hows it goin, babe? Oh Ledell, Im just fine. And yourself? Ready to celebrate the life of the greatest boxer never known to the world. I resent Ledells comment, but I let it slide and I know he has good intentions in saying it. What I resent more is the image of Manny McLellan that runs through my mind with it. Abigail, help me pick out another tie. I cant be one-upped by my baby bro on such a special occasion. October 3, 2007 Dads day was extra special this year. It seemed like everyone showed up. What do you think, Shawn? Ledell slips on his black and red Everlast training gloves, the leather worn down

but still holds strong. Yeah. It was something, huh? Its great to see that he still has people who love him. Lets get going. Andre wouldnt tolerate us standing around talking. Training with Ledell made me work on the double. For one, I couldnt let him think he was better than me, but I really just want to set an example for him, to show him that it takes extremely hard work to get to the pros and beyond. He has a bright future, brighter than mine was looking when I was his age; I was honest up and coming boxer in a not so honest boxing organization. March 20, 2008 As I slide into the USBC Arena where I am to fight Pablo Rescobar, it is too dark to be the afternoon, or so I think. I haven't been keeping track of time today. My mind is on the problem at hand. Raindrops fall on the stiff shoulders of my Chaps sport jacket. I carry my bag in my right hand, and the other remains tense. I know I will see Manny McLellan here, with shadows cast over his eyes that deeply contrast with his pale face and shiny baldhead. He will be lurking in a rink-side seat. "C'mon, kid. Let's get out of this shit." Gus passes me quickly on my left side. I speed up my steps to follow. "He's going to be here, Gus. He's going to screw me again." "Listen to me, kid, get your mind out of the gutter and put this time to good use. Get in the zone or Manny's bullshit will finish you once and for all." * I can hear the rumble of the crowd traveling through the tunnels underneath the venue. I know Ledell and Abigail are out there in the mix. My father, almighty Andre, is right here with me. I hear Gus buzz in my ear that is it time to go. I hear my song as I climb the ramp. I'm fired up. My biceps feel like two Mack trucks equipped with jet engines. *

I dont even give McLellan the time of day. I know where hes sitting and I keep my eyes away from his direction. As I gear up to clash with The King, I glance at the four judges. They are ready and waiting to judge. Fairly. Ting Ting! I hear Gus cheer me on. I know Abigail is doing the same. Ledell and Andre drown out the malfeasance of Manny. I trade blows with Pablo. Hoah hoah! barks the referee. He separates the two of us. Low blow by Prophet! Low blow! The judges looked at each other in a perplexed way, but nodded in unison and wrote down a few notes. Are you kidding me? That was a clean blow! A good five inches above the waistline! I argue but it doesnt help. I have been ignoring him until now. I glare at McLellan who glares back. His grin is as dark as his sunken eyes. * Pablo Rescobar is known for his glass chinthe only reason I win the fight. It was the extreme rage I felt that propelled my Mack trucks twice into the cheek of my opponent, and a bit of luck. I catch him with his mouth open and broke his jaw. Listen, Gus, I want Ledell and Abigail down here now. Can you do that for me? Ive had enough, and I know my next move, but I cant tell anyone yet. March 24, 2008 It is little Marcus birthday today, so Abigail and I are heading to Ledells house for a barbeque. He is turning six. Ledells wife Isabel is the mastermind behind every family party. She is great at planning; it is why Ledell manages his time so well these days. Still contemplating about how I am to tell my family that I hope to take on the world-boxing champion, my mind is in a loop but I smile at Abigail. She is elegant in her pale green dress that ends at the knees. The white jacket that covers her shoulders keeps her warm. You look great honey. Thanks, Shawn. You know, you look good too. I bet Ledell looks better.

I dont think so. Although he does always find a way, doesnt he? * Whats goin on, Isabel? The house looks phenomenal. Ledell does look better than me. No big deal. Thank you, Shawn! You know, those bruises on your face match the walls in the living room. She smiles in a huge way. I actually get a kick out of the joke, because all I have heard since my last fight is how I need to do something about the way McLellan is jerking me around. Oh, please. My shirt matches this bruise better than the walls do. Why do you think I wore purple? Youre a real hoot, Izzy giggles. Go on out back, theres some finger food out right now. My hope that no one will ask me about the fight is crushed instantly. Yeoo, Shawn, what happened the other night? Thank god that fool has a chin like a woman, My uncle Tod chirped. I quickly stuff my face with a pig-in-a-blanket and pretend not to hear. * Forty-five minutes later and Im just about ready to shout at the next person to look my way. I cant keep a conversation for more than three minutes before I am forced to talk about my faulty fights. Before I make known my super-annoyed state, I find refuge with Gus. I sit next to him on the lounge chair. Gus, do me a favor? Wha-dya need kid? The wrinkles under his eyes are boldened by the sun as he sips homemade lemonade. Can you gather Abigail and Ledell and meet me in the basement. You know, where the bar and the pool table is? Sure, kid. Is everything okay? Whats this about? Gus senses the urgency in my voice. I make my way to the basement and await my closest advisors.

* Im going to challenge Frost. I am sure. No one said anything. I am not sure what they are thinking. Are you certain that is a good idea, Shawn? Abigail is always worried about me. I have to do this, hun. I thought I could ignore it, but if McLellan going to ruin my career then this is my only option. I think hes right, Abby. Go for it, bro. Im confident that you can take him. Let McLellan try to fix the fight. You can just knock Frost out like the rest of em. Ledell is always supportive. Gus is silent. I am sure that he is behind me on this. We dont exchange words the rest of the night. March 25, 2008 You know youre in deep on this one, kid? Gus surprises me. I thought I have the gym to myself this morning. Yeah. I am not short of breath, just short of words. Were going to train you hard. I want you to challenge him today. Let it be known. The publicity will bring urgency and reality to it all. Ok. I hesitate. One, two, three. G-Gus Huh? You knew Andre well. Maybe even better than me. I havent talked about my father to anyone but Abigail. What was he getting into? If you know, I need you to tell me. Shawn, I know you might think you want to know, but Tell me. Okay. Sit down, kid. Gus pushes on to tell me how my father had been acquaintances with gang members. And how some of the late nights he had spent training he was out dealing with gang business, as

Andre called it. What kind of gang business? I question. He never told me. I urged him to break all ties. To never go back to that life. Gus looks down. I have never seen him cry before. He continues slowly. When he finally listened to me The people he did business with didnt like his sudden withdrawal from everything. Thank you, Gus. I dont need to hear any more. Im going to hit the shower. December 10, 2009 Left jab, left jab, punishing right hook. I slam the heavy bag. I have never seen Gus so intent on my training. He has never worked me so hard. Left body, right body, left hook. I am just starting to break into sweat when out of the corner of my eye I swear I see a deer. At least, I wish it had been one. Instead I see a fool. What the fuck do you think youre doing here? I turn and scream. I never leave my fighting stance. Manny McLellan has the nerve to set foot in our gym. Hold on, Shawny! McLellan preaches from across the room. Get the fuck out. I make my way towards him. Gus intercepts me. Wait, Shawn. Let me handle this. I stand down and follow closely behind Gus toward the scumbag trashing up the gym. What the hell do you want? I cant help myself. I come in peace, Shawn. McLellan tries to charm me with his fucking ugly smile. Speak, scumbag. I shoot an apologetic look to Gus for disobeying him. So youre fight with my guy Isaac Frost is in a few months, McLellan croaks. Yes. Whats your fuckin point? I should break your nose for what youve done. Let me speak. Make it quick, trashman. Fine. I want to wish you good luck. Thats what you came here for? Get the fuck out. No, actually thats not all. I want to offer you something

I dont answer. I grimace. I want to give you the upper-hand in the bout. Gus knows I am going to blow. He jumps in. Manny, why dont you get the hell out of here now. Shawn, get back on the heavy bag. I storm away. I cant do anything to McLellan. Thats assault. Muffled by the slapping sounds my fists make on the bag I hear McLellan yell to me, Hey Shawny, dont worry, bud! Im not messing this one up for you. I dont need to. Youre cheap food to Frost. March 19, 2009 I enter the ring with a tactically open mind, but I focus on one dead-set thought. I am in here to kill my opponent, and the only thing that will save Isaac Frosts life is the final bell. Little did Isaac know that the referee is his guardian angelthe only thing keeping him from his inevitable plummet to the gates of Lucifers kingdom. I pump my arms; they have to be warm and ready to strike like a cobra. My legs feel solid, the foundation underneath me that brought stability and unmatched agility to my game. I have been mentally preparing for this moment for months, and now I feel as if my intelligence could knock Frost out with a single well-placed blow. I am confident; the lust for revenge and greatness held a vise-like grip on my heart. I have to unleash on Isaac Frost what has been coming to him for years. This moment is my chance to punish him, punch by punch. I stand in the pacific corner of the ring; it is the island I am out to conquer. The disbelief of McLellan offering me a corrupt deal before I fight his champion boxer swirls in my head. My gloves, I dub dark stone; you cant see them coming until theyre in your face. I hear Herb Kean announce my name. All I hear after that is the word, Frost. Frost; it sends chills throughout my warm body. Ting! The bell rings. I have trained to obtain the focus and prowess that I now channel from six months of hard work. As I move forward, I size up my opponent, his skin as pale as ice. I believe in my hands.

* Four rounds, weve gone half the distance dancing around the ring, trading blow for blow. Frost has had me on my heels for two rounds now. He is stronger than I had expected. Doubt grows in my mind; I begin to feel as if I am in over my head. Frost is hard to hit, and he hits hard. A cut is forming over my left eye and the swelling is beginning to shroud my vision. I sit on my stool as Gus yaps in my ear; he offers up some strategy changes to get me back into the fight. I have less than sixty seconds to recover from the beat down I received in round four. My mind is flooding with unrecognizable sounds that enhance the confusion I experience from the extreme power of Frosts punches. My thoughts stray to my ultimate goal. I give in to the pressures of the thoughts that I am not the greatest fighter. The idea that I will not become world champion and never fulfill my fathers lifelong dream stings in my chest. And then I hear Gus tell me to focus on him. He has something important to tell me. I bring my eyes back into focus on Gus concerned face. Shawn, I didnt want to tell you. I need to now, before this thing is over. McLellan was behind your fathers death. McLellan. Manny McLellan. How deeply rooted in my life are the grubby meathooks of that evil creature? Ting! Theres the bell again. My new discovery instantly distinguished any second thoughts. Flushing from my mind is the negative energy, and I am struck with rejuvenating zeal. Drive the center, keep my opponent fleeing backwards, strike with accuracy and precision until Frosts shell fully opens up; that is when I unleash the resentment Ive held on McLellan since he tried to ruin my fathers career. Go is the only word running through my head. Jab, jab, hook, cut. I am aware that my newly found zest can quickly evolve into reckless boxing. It does not matter at this point. Frost is not ready for my new outlook on the fight. I catch the unexpecting Frost with a hammering upper cut. Stumbling backwards as if he is standing on a ball, eyes rolling uncontrollably, Frost grasps the ringside for support. A torrent of vehemence reaches into his

body with my striking arms. As the former NBF World Heavyweight Champion lies frozen on the mat, I know he is not getting up. I seek out Manny McLellan in the crowd; the look of displeasure on his face brings me the most serene sense of nirvana I have ever experienced. The destruction of the man that ended my fathers life screams louder in my head than the roaring crowd.