As a skinny boy walks into the Descorde arena, the audience explodes into cheers. He’s Nick Athens, the reigning champion of this tournament. The media adores him almost as much as the other fighters despise him. I grit my teeth and finish adjusting my fighting exoskeleton, preparing to step forward, but Vivian places a hand on my shoulder to stop me. "Hey, Riley?" She gives me an uncomfortable smile, flashing perfectly white teeth. "Go out there-"
"I know, Vee," I interrupt her more harshly than I’d intended, brushing her hand away. She's been my trainer for months leading up to this competition; she knows that I have to focus. We both need me to win this.
"Riley Pratchett to the arena, Riley Pratchett to the arena."
A clear and metallic female voice rings out from the loudspeakers. I glance at Vivian, and this time my trainer doesn't stop me as I step out and into the light. I blink rapidly and continue moving forward, adjusting to the brightness. Walking through the doorway is like stepping into another world. Gratifyingly, it seems that my entrance to the arena is making the crowd roar as loudly as they did for Nick. He's waiting at the other end of the arena patiently, eating what looks suspiciously like a chocolate bar.
…show more content…
The crowd gradually calms down, tense in preparation for the starting buzzer. I lower myself into a battle stance, my gaze locked on the light-haired boy at the other end of the arena. Surprisingly, he doesn't do the same, he simply finishes his chocolate and stuffs the wrapper into his pocket. It occurs to me how utterly unthreatening Nick Athens looks, even with a fighting exoskeleton and uniform
“The 1910 Jeffries-Johnson Fight and Its Impact” was by far my favorite reading from the text this semester, which is the main reason for my choosing of this topic. Throughout this article, I found it to be incredibly intriguing how detailed it was on the struggles that Johnson went through. Discussing the difficult experiences he had as a rising black athlete and then to end up with a white woman who, to many, could or could not have been considered a prostitute. All of the events during Johnson’s life make him such an amazing person and a very interesting athlete to learn more about.
Joes High School’s total enrollment consisted of sixteen girls, and twenty boys. Ten of the boys that had enrolled there played basketball. All of the boys were over six feet tall. Lane Sullivan, the new coach of the basketball team, had never even touched a basketball before he started coaching. Sullivan had never coached anything at all before he started coaching the Joes basketball team. In order to gain knowledge about the sport, he got a book about it. He started coaching in 1927, but before the 1928 basketball season, Joes High School didn’t even have a gym. Instead, they’d practice outside on a dirt court, and two times a week they’d take a bus to the nearest gym, which was ten miles away. In order to play home games, the boys had to play in the local dance hall. The “court” was nowhere near regulation size, and the ceiling was so short that the boys couldn’t shoot an arched shot. The people who attended these basketball games had no place to sit and watch the game, the all stood around the edges of the court and on the small stage. Joes High School finally got their own gym around Christmas time because the people of Joes donated their time and material in order to make it happen.
Novelist, Norman Mailer, in his narrative essay, “The Death of Benny Paret,” recounts his experience as he witnesses a first-hand account of the tragic death of the boxer, Benny Paret. Mailer’s purpose is to convince the audience that boxing is inhumane through the use of many rhetorical devices, such as simile, animalistic diction and syntax.
However, Cohn still inevitably and obliviously throws in the towel in the fight of masculinity when Jake remarks that “being a very shy and thoroughly nice boy, he never fought except in the gym” (11). Cohn’s attempt at using the sport as a mechanism for practicing masculinity ultimately
Beads of sweat travelled down my forehead as I reluctantly walked into the arena. My metal armour was annoying and irritated my skin. I didn't want to fight, but I was left with no choice. I surveyed the great Colosseum, and spotted the emperor, with his lavish and decorative clothing. If only he knew what torment and pain gladiators have to go through. Chants and yelling echoed throughout the Colosseum, the crowd antsy for a real fight after the executions at noon. There were different emotions amongst my fellow gladiators; some showing an eagerness for bloodshed, while others were afraid and miserable. My train of thought was interrupted by a loud horn, signaling the start of the fight. I stood alongside the rest of the gladiators, ready
On an October afternoon in 1954, a 12-year-old Clay attended an annual convention of the Louisville Service Club at the Columbia Auditorium with a friend. He arrived at the black merchant bazaar upon a new $60 red and white Schwinn. However, after Clay and his friend indulged themselves with free popcorn and ice cream they left the auditorium to find that their bicycles had been stolen. A tearful Clay was directed to the basement of the auditorium where a policeman was manning the boxing gym. Joe Martin listened to young Cassius boast about a statewide hunt for his precious bike and heard the threats he was making to the thief if he was ever caught. After a while, Martin asked of Clay, "Well, do you know how to fight?" Clay quipped back, "No, but I'd fight anyway." Martin's best advice to the hot-tempered preteen was to come back around the gym and learn to fight. "Why don't you learn something about fighting," Martin suggested, "before you go and make any hasty challenges?" (2)
He didn’t waste a minute and started training the next week, a month before the actual preseason practices began. He hired a personal trainer to help him get ready for the preseason. His trainer was a lot more vigorous than the trainers at college had been. As he trained, he concentrated on other things so that the pain wouldn’t get to his mind. Damian’s dream had always been to be a star soccer player and to make his parents happy. The...
When mentioning the names of the boxers, the author lists them in a unique way: “When my father said their names—Hearns Hagler, Leonard Ali Frazier, Duran Patterson” (18). At first, the reader might believe that these are the actual names of the boxers. However, these are not the full names of t...
At the Gym, written by Mark Doty, dramatizes the conflict within the mind of a bodybuilder and his desire to change who and what he is. The speaker observes the routines of the bodybuilder bench-pressing at a local gym, and attempts to explain the driving force that compels him to change his appearance. The speaker illustrates the physical use of inanimate objects as the tools used for the “desired” transformation: “and hoist nothing that need be lifted” (5,6). However, coupled with “but some burden they’ve chosen this time” (7), the speaker takes the illustration beyond the physical use of the tools of transformation and delves into the bodybuilder’s mental state. The speaker ends by portraying the bodybuilder as an arrogant, muscular being with fragile feelings of insecurity.
Jefferson, T. (1996). From “little fairy boy”to the “compleat destroyer”: subjectivity and transformation in the biography of Mike Tyson. Understanding Masculinities, 281–301.
Over the course of my observations of McComas Gym’s weight room, it was easy to figure out what type of audience would be interested in my essay. Based off this audience, I developed a persona who represents the weight room community by combining many of the characteristics I observed in individuals in the weight room. My developed persona is an ideal representative of an “insider” to the weight room community, as well as a representative of my essay’s audience.
CLAP, CLAP, CLAP, CLAP, echoes through my head as I walk to the middle of the mat. "At 160lbs Aidan Conner of La Junta vs. Rodney Jones of Hotchkiss." All I can think of is every bead of sweat, every drip of blood, every mile, every push up, every tear. Why? All of this: just to be victorious. All in preparation for one match, six minutes. For some these six minutes may only be a glimpse, and then again for some it may be the biggest six minutes of their life. Many get the chance to experience it more than once. Some may work harder and want it more than others, but they may never get the chance. All they get is a moral victory. Every kid, every man comes into the tournament with a goal. For some is to win, for some is to place, others are just happy to qualify. These six minutes come on a cold frigid night in February at a place called the Pepsi Center. Once a year this gathering takes place when the small and the large, the best of the best, come to compete in front thousands of people. I am at the Colorado State Wrestling Championships.
In summation, life is full of grief and misfortunes. Anything can happen to anyone. “The World Champions Tragedy,” is just one example of how life can turn out for the worst. Reflecting on why this story was chosen, the characters in this story, the world of pro wrestling, murder-filicide, alcohol and crime, life in prison, and the psychological effects of suppression show us how these “tragedies” came to pass in the story. Real lessons and warnings can be learned from this story.
A certain familiarity is developed over time that makes it home. Sitting here I can vividly picture being there. I drive my car into the pot-hole filled parking lot off the highway and park in the same spot I always have, people just seem to know that's my spot. Walking around to the back I open the brown door and enter. The familiar damp smell of sweat still pierces my nose when I walk into the hallway even after all these years. The rhythmic beating of the speedbag and clanging of the punching bag hanging from the ceiling echo through the hall. When I walk into the gym I see our instructor Dean with his long dreads sitting at his desk talking on the phone. It sounds as if he is trying to set up some fights for us. I turn my head to the left and see everyone doing their own thing. Chris is kicking the stuffing out of the heavy bag, he thinks he's such a bad-ass. Mitch and Don are goofing around as if they were fifteen, even though they're almost forty. Stretching out is Cara, she's the only female fighter but I wouldn't mess with her.
...uld take on the world. I had won respect of my friends, what more could I ask for? After a brief exclusion from the group, my respect was fully restored. “Let’s go eat at the gym.” At that moment I felt proud, I felt like a gladiator who emerged from the Coliseum strong and unscathed, walking along with the crowd of Rome, congratulating me on my great triumph. Jacob was still at the end of the hall.