Page 27 of Sucker Punch Drunk Love

“You damn right I will,” I winked, engaging in some small talk before me and Héctor backtracked to Sierra's waiting room to prepare her last one last time.

“You good?” She released air from her puffed out cheeks.

“I'm really nervous?—”

“Don't be nervous,” I attempted talking her down, forcing her gaze towards mine. It was almost a shame how precious she looked. A face like hers wasn’t meant to get hit in the face.

“You've been training for this. You knew well before you came, you weren’t walking in a fan favorite.”

“Mmmhmm,” she whimpered, her face speaking louder than her words.

“But you got one job, one job only. You go out there and you give them a hell of a match. You do that, and you'll leave a fuckin’ crowd favorite,” I said, lining her face with face with vaseline.

“Okay.”

“Okay. Now fix your face. None of that girly shit in front of your opponent. You’re a Loba?*, recuerdas?*? Now let’s get out there and watch you fuck some shit up!”

***

Sierra had started out strong, leading her first round, my initial fear subsiding until halfway through round two. The bell rung when they ran out of time, as me and Héctor rushed to tend to her wounds and give her a pep talk since the loss of last round had her nerves on edge.

“Forget that round, you're still in this,” I encouraged, focusing on her first round instead of her failure. She needed to go back in there believing she could take that next round, not just survive it.

“You okay, kid?” I asked, pressing the ice cold enswell against her cheeks to reduce the inflammation. “Breathe, mami. You got this. Don't wait till she's backing up. Walk her down. Level change after every combo, and you got her,” I advised, as shenodded and spit out her water before replacing her mouth guard for round three.

Her opponent made her work for it, but it took three quarters into the fight for her to find her confidence back. By the end of the third round she looked relieved to be retreating to her corner to take a breather.

“Sierra, do youwantto be here?”

“Yes,” she said, exhausted.

“So, why are you admiring her work? Fucking lead the exchange! Don't give her space to fucking breathe! Stay on her ass!

“I'm trying, coach. She's just so experienced.”

“What did you just say?”I snapped.

“She's just?—”

“The only words I want to hear leaving your mouth areyes, Coach! If the next words you say ain’t yes, Coach, then I assume your plan is just to give her this fight, and that’s something a god damn loser would do. I know I didn’t spend three months training no loser. ¿Me entiendes?*?”

Through light sobs she nodded, shame flooding my senses as I considered pulling her out of this. She was doing good but not well enough to stay in the lead, especially after taking so many blows.

“Yes, Coach!”

“Okay, then! Show them who you are. Tu eres la loba?*. Sierra fuckin’ Medina from Philly,” I said with a beat to my chest. “Forget about the judges for a minute. Forget about your problems. Do you remember the first time you ever used your fists?” She nodded, humbling herself to hear my words.

“What was fueling you the moment you threw that first punch?”

“That I was so tired of being hit, I just wanted to hit back.”

“So, you know, if you let this bitch hit you, it could be the last time she hits you. When that motherfucker shoots, I want you to punish her. I want you to remember why you started. Remember why you threw that first punch. Make that puta?* regret taking that second round. Take that center and don’t give it the fuck back! ¿Me oígas?*?”

“Mmmhmm…” she mummered, her knees bouncing and she took deep breaths in.

“Remember what I taught you! Humble yourself for the cage. This is her city, but this cage? This cage is your house! When someone tries to rob your house, you do what?”

“You put her down,” she muffled through her mouth piece.