Moment of Truth Essay

The drive was deafening. A few drunken chants, a boo here and there was all I could make forth over my asthma- corresponding pants. I didnt blame them though. For two rounds Ive been dodging, shifting, and shoving myself around the ring. I didnt tie-up still, I couldnt stand still. I wasnt going to win this one. He was too big, too bulky, too mean looking. Theres no way hes 76 kg, there must hasten been some sort of mistake I kept telling myself. I was a half expecting the referee to stop us saying high-risk gentlemen, there was a mistake in the matching, and Im gonna call a No Contest.But I knew that wasnt the case, simply a bit of wishful thinking to ease the pain. He came at me again, this clip more than aggressively. It was likely the frustration, or maybe he wanted the knockout. Either way, I was losing and I knew it. For a second, I thought of taking the fall skilful to give the crowd something to talk somewhat. He tried his best to trap me, only when I kept backi ng up and prolonging this dance of ours. Two minutes Do something I thought I heard my box seat shout. I dashed back one more time, thats when I sawing machine the slight buckle in his knees. He was tired, exhausted, spent, almost expired.His mass advantage worked against him when it came to endurance. Now is my shot, it was either hit or miss. But I wasnt going to waste it on an skanky strike. It had to be a counter, or he would expect it. I planted myself, and like a fish to the bait he came for the trap and swung. I flung out my jab to deflect his and countered with a right straight while my look were closed. I felt the contact, opened my eyes, he wasnt there. The referee pushed me to the opposite corner as he continued the count. Everytime he yelled a number, the crowd would repeat it more frantically. Yal Wahsh I heard my roommate call from the corner.By the vii count, the referee realized all hope for the staggering beast were lost and decl ard me the winner. I was overw helmed, I had one my first prize- contracting match and it felt like it should. I hate these things Theyre ridiculous I complained to myself as I unwrapped my knuckle wrappings. The locker room was smaller than i was used to and it had this nettled dog stench about it but my face still wore a smile. Hey How are you? ok? I was startled by a deep juncture echoing behind me. I turned to see a small figure of a man.An middle-aged man. He wore an unbuttoned shirt with a wife-beater underneath. An earring on the left ear, and a mountainous gut. Yeah Im good, thanks. I answered resuming what I was doing. Thats a good win out there, you know I used to be a boxer? He questioned rhetorically. Oh really? , What happened? I replied with a smug smirk on my face knowing the sarcasm went unnoticed. Youre funny kid? eh? he replied with subsequently a light chuckle. Everyone will grow old one day, this will never change. True I nodded, extracting his ideas from his upset English. This is f or you, he said while extending a hand lighting clutching a bulky envelope. Oh, arent I supposed to stop by the managers office to pick up my check? I asked bluntly. It was received with a laugh, This isnt part of your prize, its just something extra from me. You made good money. thirteen to one against you, I liked that and I won. So here, a tip eh? I blindly grabbed the envelope from him and thanked him, not knowing what I had started. A posting slid out of the envelope and onto the ground. Anothony G. DeBatista White Arrow Bar was what I realized it said after picking it up.I recognized the place, I walked by it on my way to university every day, I just never really noticed it. Day after day, I found myself more drawn to the shady local anesthetic bar. Everyday I didnt go, I felt more inclined to do so the next day. It was as if I owed him something and I was putting it off. The least(prenominal) I could do is drop by, right? I convinced myself one time after class. I walke d in, startled by the simultaneous bell but quickly realized what it was. There werent many people occupying the seats, I could see a group, much younger than I, sipping away at their ill-gotten delights and go on on about how tough life was.In almost every sense of the word, it was shady, if not just plain out creepy. Come around, to the back I heard a familiar deep voice bark at me from behind the bar. So I squeezed under the counter and entered the make-shift kitchen Tony was sitting in. We started a chat of senseless formalities, almost as if he was checking up on me. I was curious about what he really wanted to talk about. I was similarly intrigued by the question of why a simple bar owner carried a business card. But all these speculations were put to rest when I at long last realized all he wanted to do was talk.Nearly every day after class, I would stop by at Tonys just for a casual chat. We would talk about sports, politics, anything that caught our mutual interest we w ould find a way to discuss it, constantly reinforcing the age gap with our conflicting views on the same matters. Sometimes wed play chess, sometimes he would send me out on errands he couldnt find the time to do himself. I had to admit, I enjoyed that old mans company. I felt that I could learn a lot from such wisdom. It wasnt until I was approached by a fellow classmate that I disrupted this pattern.He had seen me constantly wandering off into the bar, and asked me who it belonged to. So i replied, Its Tonys Bar thinking it to be an inquisitive question. My classmate filled me in on everything I didnt want to know about Tony. I didnt want to know about how he owned 32 apartment complexes around Malta, had a significant amount of shares in the casino business, and was known to be a contact to the Sicilian crime family. I dismissed it all at first, thinking it too ridiculous to be true. Believe it or not man, it is what it is. he added when he saw my disbelief.Most people would cut ties after hearing something like that, nip it in the bud as they say. Not me though, I was still in a state of awe. To be honest, it was more of a state of intrigue than disbelief. There was something about that scenario that appealed to me. I had always loved mobster movies, everything from The Godfather to The Departed. I kept going to Tonys bar, despite knowing who or what he was. Every time I walked through that door, I walked out a little more confident, a little more powerful, a little more corrupted. I was protected, and I acted like it. I really wish you luck, Omar, Ive got quite a number on you. Tony exclaimed before i entered the locker room. Money in the bank. I replied with a smug smile. I spoke too confidently, I couldnt lose this. I bumped fists with my opponent and with the bell began my downfall. Punch after punch, I couldnt see them coming anymore. He was faster than I thought. Every time that bell rang, I sat in the corner preaching myself new strategies, althou gh I knew Ive already lost. I had to win this though, Tony was counting on me. What if he loses a fortune on this? What if I fall from grace?Would it upset him? Would he do something about it? My mind went into a spiral of pessimism and panic. It had just dawned on me how dire my situation had become. No worries, I told myself, I still have a round left, its not too late. I just have to take him down. The bell rang and I dashed for the offensive. I had gone in too fast, and extended my jab too early. Mere target practice for him, I was caught with a straight and a left hook to follow. Its a funny feeling, being knocked out. Your mind makes you believe youre still awake while your clay completely fails you.You end up staggering fully conscious in mind, telling the referee youre still alright to fight while your knees are giving in. The referee called the match, I knew I had lost. God damn these wraps I found myself saying again. The locker room was once again abandoned ask out fo r my sad self. The door was knocked and my heart along with it. I knew it was Tony. I just didnt know what to expect. Come in I answered hesitantly. Hey kid, quite a fight eh? he said not really expecting an answer.Im sorry, Tony, I dont know what happened I shot back almost instantly. Sorry? I didnt get hit, youre the one who got hit he replied jokingly, Why are you sorry? . Arent you pissed about the money? I asked half-heatedly. He burst out in a chuckle Malla, money is always coming and going my friend, youll do better next time, just engineer alright? With that, he walked out, leaving me to my own devices. I couldnt believe how stupid I had been. Stupid enough to assume that fantasy role I had taken, a gangster, in all sense of the word. I was no gangster, and I certainly didnt have the heart for it.I was a nine-teen year old kid with his whole life ahead of him, but that was a role I never wanted to be. Its almost poetic, when reality sets in and your eyes open up for the first time since birth. Thats when I became fully aware of my surroundings, truly appreciative of the things I was, and the things I wasnt, and couldnt be. I announced this my rebirth, and it didnt take a spiritual awakening or holy revelation to acquire it. All it took was one situation, one experience, and one hell of a scare to bring me back to reality. I never really saw Tony that much after that.Every time I passed that bar, Id just leave it to sulk in its own gloomy haze. Id remember how I sold out the memories, the laughter, the debates, the chess games, and the friendship to prejudge on reputation. Tony was a bad man, probably. In a way, though, Tony was a good man, at least to me. A friend when I needed him to be, a mentor at other times. No matter what the man had done in his past, I couldnt deny him his wisdom. Eventually, I read in the paper that Tony was apprehended after a drug smuggling sting and sentenced to six years. He was out in three months. Like I was told, hes connected.