It Takes Two

One

It feels good to finally write about my home country for once. Hopefully I don't let my fellow Canucks down. Buckle up and get ready to enjoy the splendid sceneries of Western Canada!
***

Vancouver.

The city skyline filled up my window as the plane continued its descent into the city. A combination of buildings, parks, and roads came into and then out of my view. Moments later, the unmistakable thud of landing gear meeting runway signalled that we had touched down. The plane came to a roaring stop before making its way towards the gate.

There was an awkward silence when the plane stopped at the gate, but we weren't allowed out yet. Some people grew a little bit anxious. Annoyed, even. As soon as the seatbelt light turned off, a few people got up and stepped into the aisle, trying to grab their bags before others, only to find themselves surrounded by people with the same idea. The flight might have only been an hour or so, but the crowd didn't want to sit any longer than they had to.

Eventually, the line began to move. Those blocking the aisle quickly reached into the overhead bins and grabbed their bags. Chatter picked up once again. A bit of chaos ensued as people shuffled their way out of the plane. I overheard a couple of different conversations, including a group of guys a few rows back who were here for a bachelor party.

Two beefy arms came down on my shoulders with enthusiasm. It belonged to the mountain of a man that sat next to me. He might have been sleeping soundly for most of the flight, with his head pressed into the window, but as soon as the flight landed, he popped up as if there was an eject button on his seat.

"This is going to be the best week of the year, Liam. Let's show up and show out," he declared loudly.

I smiled, letting Brett's enthusiasm sink in for a moment. Months of training had led to this. We were finally in Vancouver for the big week.

Fight week.

Brett and I both trained at Strikers, a local boxing gym and club, that competed in several events each year. Most were amateur tournaments with other clubs around the city, but the Western Canada Boxing Championships was a totally different thing. The gym had circled this mid-July week way back at the start of the year. Some of the biggest up-and-comers from this side of the country had entered this competition. We weren't expecting to get any silverware out of this event, but it was a good opportunity to measure our skills against of the best in class.

As we made our way into the airport, Brett continued to pour on the enthusiasm. He was the walking definition of "looks can be deceiving", as the muscular six foot five frame and thick brown beard covered up the energy and attention span of a five-year-old. Brett was intimidating until he started to talk.

"Look, Liam, this is the week to prove yourself. Lots of people come to this event, including the ones that call the shots. And I'm not talking about guys like Jamison. I'm talking professional scouts. They're always looking for the next big thing, and they're looking for them early. You won't be able to tell who's who, but someone in the crowd is always watching. Impress the right guy and you will be set."

It was hard to imagine someone of Brett's height being overlooked, but by many standards, Brett's career path has often gone under the radar. He barely squeaked past high school, bounced around a few dead-end jobs for a couple years, took up boxing, and up to this point, had a fairly modest record to show for it. Sometimes people misinterpreted Brett's energy as being lackadaisical, but if there was one thing that he took seriously, it was boxing. He knew he was one lucky break away from making a career out of this.

"You ever run into a professional scout?" I asked him on the escalator down to the arrival hall. This was Brett's third year in the circuit and second WCBC. With less than twelve months of boxing under my belt, I wanted to get every bit of advice that I could get before my biggest competition to date.