The Boxing Match

An emotional battle between brothers

   “Be nice.” my father said, “After all, he is your brother.” I nodded, and threw a few punches in the air. I was about to step into the ring for the most intense boxing fight of my life. My brother and I had been boxing together since we were 4 years old. We had been the two chosen out of our High School to fight for the state nationals. We had beaten everybody in the nationals now, and the championship was between us. I was very close to my brother, and it was hard to fight him. I couldn’t play nice though, this was the championship title. My father was astounded that it had to end like this. One brother would go home, knowing that he was beaten up by the person he had to ride home at the end of the day.

   

   The referee called us into the ring. I hi-fived my dad with my boxing glove. “Go get ‘em kid,” he cheered. My brother’s girlfriend was watching him from her front row seat in the crowd. My girlfriend was at a field hockey tournament. I straightened my gear. My brother looked nervous, as if he didn’t know how to react with me as his opponent. We practiced on each other at home, and we knew each other’s weaknesses and strong points. This was going to be a very interesting match. The referee blew the whistle. We stared at each other for a while, and then we started to circle. I tried to look mean, but there was no way I could beat my brother up. We were both equally skilled. I didn’t want to throw the first punch, and neither did he.

  

   He finally put up a weak fist, and slung it in the air, coming in contact with my shoulder. I saw the hurt in his eyes, as I kicked him in the chest. Why couldn’t I do this? I had to toughen up. It was just boxing, I told my self, just boxing. The fight went on like this, an occasional punch and kick. After a few minutes, our coach yelled at us to fire it up. My brother’s eyes almost clouded over, as he planned his next attack. He nearly jumped on me, and I fell over. He threw punch after punch, after punch. Our coach was howling up a storm. I didn’t fight back, because I knew that I couldn’t. I couldn’t make myself punch my own brother. 

   Tears welled in my eyes, and a look of shock crossed my brother’s face. “Why,” he whispered so the crowd couldn’t hear it. “Why does it have to be like this?” I looked up at him and closed my eyes. I shook my head, trying to clear away the boos from the crowd. The tears started running down my face. My father was beginning to stand up from his seat in the bleachers. He had noticed what was going on. Through my closed eyes, the world seemed to spin. The pressure from my brother’s punching seemed to drift away, punch… punch… punch. It faded away so it was just a heart beat.

   

   The fight ended, and I was thrust in the car. My brother didn’t speak to me. I think that he was still making his way through all of the feelings of that boxing match. It was late at night. The street light glinted off of the large trophy that he held in his hands. The gold shimmer cast beams through the car, reminding me of the fight. The gold fought with me, punching my inner self. It was the last thing I saw, before I fell asleep. 

Author's Note

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