Path To Restoration (Fighter's Den, #3)

Chapter 12 - Nate

It's crazy how you can spend such a huge amount of time preparing for something important but when the moment finally arrives, you feel anything but ready. You question if you could have done more or prepared better. You wonder if you should have put all your time and energy towards it because what if you do a shit job and it was all a waste? What if you're in over your head and it isn't meant for you?

These are the exact thoughts eating away at me as I wind the wraps around my hands and carefully eye my opponent from across the ring.

Kevin Wong—first time pro, like me, but a beast in the ring. I've seen his previous matches and studied his plays obsessively. He's going to be a tough motherfucker to beat. He's more on the lightweight side than heavy and that makes him an agile fighter. He's fast as hell on his feet and that makes up for where he lacks in strength. I might pack more force behind a punch than him but the problem will be landing one on him at all.

"How you feelin'?" Coach asks and kneels in front of me. I shift uncomfortably in my chair.

"Honestly?" I wait for his nod. "I think I might shit my pants."

He barks out a laugh at that and claps my knee. "Then you're ready."

"Now you're just saying shit."

"If you felt ready and like you've done this a million times before, I would personally go to Wong right now and tell him he won the match. The worst way to compromise your fighting is to be in over your head. Staying humble about your capabilities in the ring is the ultimate weapon. Know why?"

I shake my head, hanging on to every last word.

"Because fighting is a mental sport. You can use your fists all you want but if you're throwing blind punches for the hell of it, then that's no different from a fucking middle school scrap. Boxing is about strategy. Your mind should lead you—never your body. Whatever your body carries out cannot be done if your mind isn't control. Same way a car can sit in a garage looking like a damn beauty but it's essentially useless until a driver gets it going. You can't use your head to its full extent if you're too busy patting yourself on the back and boasting. The more humble you remain, the more clear your head will be when you fight. So yeah, shit your pants all you want. You're ready, kid."

"You think so?" I swallow the boulder in my throat. "I've never seen Jaxon or Cameron get like this before a match."

"Are you kidding me?" He raises his brows. "Jaxon almost threw up the first time he got into a ring and Cameron was so nervous about his first pro match he was doing vocal exercises in the break room."

"Why?" I ask quizzically.

"Said something about needing a good throat to scream for mercy."

I snort into my fist. That's definitely something Cam would say.

"But I still feel different from them. I don't know...they just seemed so sure."

"That's because they were both passionate about boxing in a way that they weren't about anything else. You're a man of many passions, Hunter and you've chased them all. This is the first time you're chasing this particular passion so yeah, you're bound to doubt yourself."

I nod. That makes a lot of sense. "Thanks, Coach. Sorry for being such a pussy."

"As long as you're a pussy that's going to win this match." He levels me with his infamous stare that could makes grown man cry. "Keep your shit together and remember everything that I've taught you. We didn't waste countless hours on training for you to get cold feet. You get in that ring and you prove yourself, you hear me?"