Do It For Yourself

Do it for yourself, son!

The media partners who sponsored the boxing league of Philadelphia were packed inside National Philadelphia Stadium for the annual boxing event. The crowd was rushing inside to grab their seats for the much-awaited event that was to start in twohours.Daniel, the host for this year, a popular figure and a philanthropist with millions spent on his Hope Foundation, funded by charity and majorly by his successful business, made his way into the stadium through the aisle of people. His influence sent inspiration across the world that nothing is impossible.

The green room was being prepared for the participants to be ready before the showdown. It was getting late for me when I realized I was still at home contemplating the future. ’What is going to happen if I don’t win? Dad has put so much effort into it, and it cannot go to waste! I must not let it happen. There is no option for failure,I told myself before departing to the venue, which was not far from my place.

Dad was a professional boxer who had earned a name for himself in his career in the local area, then went on to state and national levels where he became popular among the crowd. His name was printed in papers and media interviews, pushing his fame further. However, he gave it all up in the final round of the Champions League in Philadelphia, where he lost to his opponent Günter, the German-bred boxer known for his toughness and dreadful punches, who beat him. I despised him for it. He just gave up and settled in the struggling areas of New Marble Town, Philadelphia.

I got down from the city bus two streets away from the venue and walked to the rear entrance. There was a range of emotions in me. It kept weighing me down and slowed me; calmness today is not my forte. I entered and headed straight to the dressing room, where my coach, Vincent Mancini, was setting things in order among others inside.

“Where were you?” He shouted. “Didn’t I tell you to be early?!”

“I… just got a little delayed by the bus.” I lied compulsively.

“Get dressed.” He said with a sigh. He probably figured it out.

A silver shorts that went up to my knee was my get-up for the fight today. I held onto the shawl dearly, staring blankly at the mirror as though I was contemplating it all. But why was I so fearful of defeat today? It’s the final round, a huge crowd, more media coverage, a lot of people, celebrities, and Daniel Hope as special host! It is a crazy day; however, it is not the reason for this anxiety.

Suddenly, I felt a pat on my shoulder. I flinched and turned around—Finny, my only friend here, who came to see this event today.

“What’s up, homie?” He said in his casual greeting.

“Waiting for it to start.” I said with a sigh. “I don’t like this today, Finny; it’s just killing me today.”

“You’ll do great, buddy;keep calm!”He said.

“I don’t know, man, I just don’t.”

Suddenly, Coach entered inside, stomping in the room. “Ready?” He said.

“Y-yes.” I stuttered.

“See ya. All the best!” Said Finny. He knew he had to leave. I nodded.

“What’s all that about?” Said Coach. I fell silent, with nothing to say. “What did I tell you yesterday?”

“There is no time to think of failure.” He nodded.

“Get your act together, boy. You have a fight to win!”

Two hours had passed, and the time finally came. Daniel made the opening, engaging the crowd. Then he announced the rounds for the day. Out of three, the first two were irrelevant, but the final one was. “Finally,” he announced, “we have Kevin Mancini versus… the Bernard Jvelé.” The crowd went crazy cheering, shouting, and whistling. Of course they would because he was the pupil of Günter; everybody knew him, and more so because of Günter.

During the first two rounds, I was in the green room, awaiting the inevitable face-off. Maybe that made me fearful of defeat. Imagining that the same man who beat my father and ruined him, his pupil does the same, and my family’s history is repeated.‘I have to win! I will make him proud; I will have to. You will have to, Kevin, you must.’

The coach once again ran me through the plan of how I should play this through. The strategies and efforts I must use to win, which I will use to win.

Finally the moment came, and I walked out into the arena. The lights were bright shining on my face, the cameras panned towards me, and the spotlight is on the final players. I have to be confident because I cannot be weak in front of my opponent. So, I put on this face of what I believed was confidence—an emotionless face that seems intimidating. But it was not confidence, but a perceived confidence. I should be motivated to win deeply without fear of defeat. Coach Vincent was right behind me. After we enter the ring and stare at each other, he would be on the side of the ring outside, guiding me.

As Daniel finished his opening for the final act, the referee stepped into the ring. He first allowed Bernard into the ring, then he gestured for me to enter. Before I stepped forward, I took one last look behind.

“Do well, son.” He said.

“I will, Dad.” I said and walked into the ring with my chest raised in confidence.

I stared him right in the eye like he did the same, attempting to intimidate me.

“You can’t win, kid.” He threatened. I thought of a counter statement but abandoned it soon and kept my stare. Straight blunder in showing lack of confidence.

The bell rang, and the first round commenced. I hopped on the corner, keeping my defense. He was on the other side with that sinister smile. I went into his territory, hopping on my feet so that I have room for dodging. Suddenly, he threw a simple jab at my face, which I defended with a block, almost instantaneously. I backed into the corner. He immediately launched aggressively, with three jabs and an uppercut, of which I took the last one partly on the face. Then I went to the other side away from him. Again he charged at me, just as aggressively as he was. This time his punches felt stronger, but I took none.

It was getting pathetic. All I did was get defensive and back into assumed safety. I kept hopping, sweating, and losing energy without a single attack from my side. He was just standing there, ready to go at any moment.

I decided it. I headed in from the side and threw a left jab and three consecutive jabs with a final uppercut. But he dodged and defended all of it with ease, as though he expected it. I was taken aback. But he did not stand still. He immediately charged and hit me with two of his jabs at the check and a final lower cut right into my nose. I fell down to my knees. The referee came out with a hand sign showing a knockout. A point for him. I cursed.

I got back up and readied myself. Then I charged at him this time tactically. I used only one uppercut but timed it right. He got his guard up, but I hit him right into the abs as hard as I could with my left jab, which threw him off guard. Then I hit him with an uppercut, but he dodged it just in time.My attempt failed.

The bell rang. The first round was up. I went off to the side, sipped water, and wiped off sweat and blood off my face. ’I can’t lose. No way!’

The other rounds went similarly. I would be mostly defensive and go aggressive sometimes to launch an attack, but I got knocked out in another round again. Then there was the final round. We both had lost the stamina, breathing heavily, sweating profusely, and bleeding from injuries. I went for one last move where he did not budge at all and took it as though he was done with defense and stood stiff. Then he retaliated with a swift jab and uppercut and jab and another jab when I kept my defense that faded away. He then hit me on the face right on the face. I fell down flat, knocked out cold, right out of my fucking existence.

The cheers suddenly grew louder; people stood up clapping and whistling. The cameras and the lights focused on him. His acquaintances jumped into the ring on his victory. There was a new champion, the winner. For me, the lights grew dimmer until it all went dark. The sound of cheering and excitement slowly faded into just silence. I could not feel my own body, my mind, or my consciousness; it all faded away. It was declared. I lost.

A week later I was at home with Dad in bitter resentment. What I was afraid of had befallen me. The tragedy of life had struck me with the wrath of his failure. I was just like another pathetic and sour loser.

“Hey,” Dad said, “you did well.”

“I did well?” I said. “There’s no point in lying, Dad. Let’s face it, I was just no match for him. In the end, the winners always win. I can’t win; it’s just not in my blood.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s the same as your opponent was. He’d beaten you, and you gave up. Why did you give up?”

He sighed. Then he sat beside me on the bedside and gently rubbed my back.

“Let me tell you something. When I faced Günter, your mother was pregnant. By the time I got to that place, I was already hellbent on beating him, just like you were, and I almost had him. He threw jabs, and I threw jabs, but neither of us got down onto our knees. It was just by points he won, or I could have beaten him.”

“Then why did you give up?”

“When I went to see your mother at the hospital, I was very angry about the loss. But then I saw your mother, the only person who was truly happy, that I came back, that we had a new member in our family. That was when I saw you for the first time. I knew winning meant nothing to me. It was my family that mattered. I sacrificed it for you all, son.”

“But it doesn’t matter anymore. I disappointed you.”

“Listen, son.” He said. “I don’t care if you win or lose! This world is very cruel and unfair. It will beat you and put you down. But you must get back up because that’s what winners do. You cannot point fingers and say because of him or her or that I lost. That’s what cowards do, and you are not one of them. Take what’s yours; believe in yourself. Son, you have to do it for yourself!”

Tell me, when I feel down, when I fall down so many times, I blame others. But there’s nothing I gain when I do that because I’m avoiding responsibility for it. Giving up is never an option. Not because you have to do it for someone or show someone that you’re worth it. It’s to show up for yourself when you need yourself the most! It’s about recognizing your own strength and resilience, even in the face of adversity. Each setback is an opportunity for growth, and by taking ownership of your journey, you empower yourself to rise again and again.