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Smiles beneath a fighter (or Killer)?

Sunday, February 20, 2005

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Written by Chitat Lee (Contest Entry)

cannon.ca CONTEST ENTRY


Not everyone pays much attention to the events. For the most part they look like they were made for bad-ass, shit-kicking, no good, psychos, assholes, violent, testosterone group of males. On the scene are flashing lights, heavy metal music or rap in the background, with a bad (as in “I just came out of prison”-bad) looking group of guys looking to just kick the living shit out of each other in the middle.

It’s what the sport of no holds barred (NHB) fighting may seem from the outside.

Before I came into team Ronin’s (NHB) club there was never a point in my life where I did any kind of sport that could make myself push to the point of passing out or puking from exhaustion. I would even wake up the next day with a completely sore body, a few bruises, and sometimes you could see me sort of limp around campus. I feel alive – like my body and soul are in unison together, like perfect harmony, as I push myself to hit harder and harder. There’s nothing as more exhilarating than when your kick can generate about the same force as a baseball bat swung to someone’s leg – even then I push myself to strike even harder.

The community of people (yes some girls do this too) involved in this sport is fairly small. But the majority of people I met are friendly – you can easily talk to them and no menace is at all present. It’s great, you totally forget that these are regular people.

I called my piece “Smiles beneath a fighter (or Killer)?” because there was this one insanely ferocious Muay Thai fighter at my club. If you ever saw him fight or train, the aura of intensity is unbelievable, he would without a doubt send me to the hospital in a fight (or with anyone else for that matter). It was this sort of (almost horrifying) intensity that I think earned him the Canadian middleweight Muay Thai champion belt recently. But it was funny because whenever he was not doing anything fighting-related he had a smile on his face. He looked too much of a nice and happy guy to be thought as a fighter – if you hadn’t seen him fight before.

To us, this is just another sport where we find our niche in. I’ll end it there with this quote.

“I remember those cheers, they still ring in my ears and for years they remain in my thoughts. 'Cause one night I took off my robe and, what'd I do?, I forgot to wear shorts. I recall every fall, every hook, every jab, the worst way a guy can get rid of his flab. As you know my life was a jab, Though I'd rather hear you cheer when I delve into Shakespeare "A horse, A horse. My kingdom for a horse" I haven't had a winner in six months. And though I'm no Olivier, If he fought Sugar Ray he would say the thing ain't the ring, its the play. So give me a stage, Where this Bull here could rage, And though I could fight I'd much rather recite: That's Entertainment.”Jake La Motta, Raging Bull


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