arch boy fights tone
It took a year,
but it was worth it.
A year ago, I followed Arch Dobbs back to his gym, agreed to fight the wild card
bout against Rusty's Gym, almost got my head taken off by a light heavyweight
named Andrew Jakes, heard Arch say his ass was mine if I could win the bout,
knocked Jakes out, had Arch back out of his offer, beat him up until I realized
he actually liked it, knocked him out, and decided to leave his ass alone
because his little mind games spoiled the mood.
Well, that about sums up that little adventure.
I decided to play a game of my own. If my path crossed Arch's again while we
were both out running, then I'd go back to his gym and close the deal this time.
I figured since that's how it started, that's how it should start over. I also
figured it wouldn't take long for our paths to cross a second time. I mean,
depending on the day, my own roadwork only takes about five different routes.
How long could it take? The answer--almost a year.
"You should just go and get it over with, Stone," my friend Manny told me
sometime in June or so. "You think too much."
It's true, I guess. I could've gone any day. But I wanted it this way. To make
the waiting feel like it had a sense of purpose, I put up a heavybag in my
basement and started training myself daily. Manny helped a little. He was in the
amateurs for almost two years, just until he got hurt seriously enough to end up
in Mercy General Hospital. He's in the pre-med program at State now. He showed
me some combinations, corrected my style a little, tweaked my footwork. And he
gave me my training mantra: "Beat his ass and take his ass."
Inspirational, huh?
Then the weather cooled off, and the t-shirts and bare chests of summer gave way
to sweatshirts and running jackets. One day I went on my usual Monday route,
then decided to add a few extra blocks by turning left instead of right. And
there he was, just across the street, his upper body concealed in a hooded
sweatshirt, his legs bare beneath gym shorts. The line of his hamstrings caught
my eye, and I stopped at the intersection and stared. Lucky for me, Manny was
running with me. I didn't have to explain it. He knew.
"So you gonna follow him or not?"
Not even a question. We were only a few blocks from the gym anyway. To get
there, though, Arch had to go past me. As he did, Manny and me matched his pace
stride for stride. When we reached the gym, Arch held the door open and waved us
in. Too easy? Perhaps.
When we got inside, the early birds were leaving, off to their 9-to-5 lives. And
that left me, Manny, Arch, a few strays suffering from late night jobs or
unemployment, and Phil Martin, Arch's cornerman. I remembered him right away,
and I could tell he remembered me. He didn't say anything--he was never much of
a talker--but he got this tough look on his face. Actually, I got the impression
he was checking Manny out, but I was probably wrong about that. At that moment,
I was focused on Arch, waiting for him to say...well, who knows what, but I
didn't think he'd just offer up his ass on the spot.
Instead, he played it cool. "Welcome back. Almost a year, right?"
I nodded, trying to match cool for cool.
"You plan on picking up where you left off?"
"Something like that."
He looked me over. "You put on some weight? Or is that the sweats?" I pulled off
the sweatshirt and stood there bare-chested. That's never a problem in Arch's
gym--he keeps the place warm. I'm almost six feet tall, and I've been a pretty
steady 170-175 pounds since high school. I guess my training had paid off, even
though I hadn't really noticed it happening--thicker through the shoulders,
mostly, maybe a little leaner overall. Arch pulled off the hooded sweatshirt and
revealed the same stunning torso I remembered--tight muscle all around, wide
shoulders, a sweep to the lats that made me weak in the knees. He's shorter than
me by a few inches, and I'd guess him at about 150-155 pounds. He pointed to
Manny. "Who's he?"
"A friend."
Manny chimed in. "I'm here so he doesn't do anything stupid like agreeing to
fight a heavyweight he never met before."
Phil Martin laughed, one of those single grunt laughs meant to dismiss you.
Since he hadn't been outside, Phil was already in a tight A-shirt and jeans,
with just enough sweat dampening the shirt to reveal a fairly impressive
six-pack of abs. I'd write him off because of the attitude, but Manny might have
been distracted. Arch just smiled and said, "Sorry about that. You won, though."
I decide to put my cards on the table. "But I didn't get what I won."
"So that's why you waited a year to collect?"
He had me there. So much for cool.
"Tell you what. Go three rounds with me. If you last three rounds, my ass is
yours, no games this time. How's that for fair?" I saw his eyes drift down to
check out my package. He remembered me just fine...most guys who get to see all
I have to offer don't usually forget the sight. So I nodded, and we geared up in
one of the rings. The few guys still in the gym realized what was about to
happen, and they started to gather around us.
Before the fight, Manny gave me some advice. "Don't believe anything he does in
this round. He's testing you, finding out how you fight. If he shows you the
left, then you expect a right. Lean back to dodge the punch, then use the
momentum of the bounceback to pump up your right. Got it?" I nodded. "Watch for
the left, lean back, then fire the right. You'll get two, maybe three shots at
that, no more. He's sharp, he'll figure it out."
Round one.
At first, I used my height and reach to stay just out of range, flicking out a
jab or two now and then. I guess Arch was expecting to see the fight I'd given
Andrew Jakes, but I knew better than that now. I waited for him to move in. It
didn't take long. He jumped in with a couple of hooks to the body, and I
countered with a straight left to the chin. He pulled back a step, cranking up a
polo punch with his left. I watched for it, and sure enough he fired a right
cross. I leaned back, just beyond his reach. I could feel the ropes behind me,
so I bounced off them, pivoted to my left, and landed my own right cross. He
looked a little surprised, so I threw a left-right combination and slipped past
him to the center of the ring. He gave me a look that said, "Not bad." Then he
waded in again, pulling in tight so he could work my gut. Fine with me. After
every few shots of his, I'd try to counter with a head shot, but not many of
them landed. Once we got into this rhythm, he fired a couple of lefts to my
head, hooks to the temple area. I ducked one and took another. I got a little
dizzy, but then I remembered Manny's advice. I saw him load up his left, a
little less obvious this time. I watched for the right, slipped under it this
time, and brought a right uppercut back up with me. Not exactly Manny's
directions, but with the same result. This time, though, Arch wrestled me
against the ropes and fired his own uppercuts, left and right. I felt my legs
turning to rubber just as the bell rang to end the round.
Next thing I knew, Manny had me back in the corner. "OK, he knows what you're
doing. But he'll give you the next round...well, most of it. He'll let you think
you're winning. Take the bait for the first half of the round. Hurt him if you
can. You're heavier than he is, so let him feel it. At some point, he'll start
fighting back, and it won't be subtle--you'll know. When that happens, get on
the outside and stay there. Keep your left in his face. Got it?"
"How do you know what he's gonna do?"
"I know, OK? You got it?"
The bell rang. Round two.
Arch came out with his guard down, his right pulled back to telegraph a wild
punch. I ducked it when it came, then threw a right uppercut to the jaw,
followed that with a left cross and a right hook--all of it landed. So I kept
throwing punches to the head--straight shots, crosses, hooks, uppercuts--and he
took it all, no signs of any real damage. The guy was hard as marble. My fists
started aching. So I switched to body work, punch after punch pushing him back
into a corner. I felt myself getting lost in the rhythm of it, thump after thump
after thump, and then WHAM! He caught me full in the face with one punch, then
two more. Next thing I knew I was on the canvas. The gymrats were cheering, a
couple of them laughing. OK, time to stay on the outside. I made it to my feet
by the eight count. Arch came in steady now, but I kept distance between us with
my left jab. Before long, just as my shoulder muscles began to burn with the
effort, the bell rang.
And you know Manny had a new game plan ready. "Now he's through playing with
you. He's gonna come at you with both guns blazing. How's your head?"
"Fine."
"Keep away as long as you can. Tie him up on the inside. You might be able to
hold on until the end of the round. I don't think he expected you to last this
long."
"Wait--you think I'm losing?"
"He didn't say you had to win. You just have to make it to the end of the round.
He'll punch fast and hard if you don't tie him up."
"How do you know all this?"
"Doesn't matter."
"It does to me."
The bell rang. Round three.
Almost before I got to my feet, Arch was on top of me, throwing punch after
punch to my gut to force me back into my corner. I threw a left hook and slipped
past him to the center of the ring. I tried to maintain distance, but he kept
one step ahead of everything I tried to do, closing off any exit. When I tried
to slip past him again, he caught me with a left hook that bounced me back into
the ropes, and then he kept me there by battering my temples with hard shots.
This time I didn't feel my legs giving. I just dropped to the canvas. The
gymrats were going nuts again. I looked up and caught Phil Martin smiling. Then
I started hearing my training mantra: "Beat his ass and take his ass." I made
the count--barely--and met Arch in the middle of the ring. We started trading
punches toe-to-toe. My right, his right, my left, his left, my uppercut, his
uppercut. In the middle of it, I couldn't even hear the gymrats anymore, just
the thud of our gloves against our bodies. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Finally, the bell
rang to end the round and the fight.
We stood there, inches from each other, drenched in sweat, our faces and bodies
reddened from the pounding, our breathing coming in longer and longer gulps. I'd
made it. He held out a glove, and we shook hands awkwardly. The gymrats
applauded.
Arch pulled in tight. "My office. Let's go." He stopped in his corner long
enough to have Phil take off the gloves, then he ducked through the ropes and
went back to his office. No mind games, as promised.
Suddenly Manny was at my shoulder. "Don't tell me you're gonna let him get away
twice?"
"No, he's giving it up. Hang around for a while, OK?" Manny took my gloves off
and unwrapped my hands. "So are you ever gonna tell me how you knew how to fight
him?"
Manny just smiled. "You really wanna stop and talk about that now?"
He had a point.
When I opened the office door, Arch was sitting behind his desk, facing me, his
torso still bare. "Close the door," he said...so I did. He stepped out from
behind the desk, his clothes gone except for his jock. In a second, my trunks
and jock were on the floor. Arch draped himself face down across the desk and
popped that bubble butt up. Just as before, a slight gleam showed me that he'd
already lubed up.
In my head, I could still hear my training mantra: "Beat his ass and take his
ass." So I did, slowly at first, just to be sure he could handle the length. He
gasped a couple of times, then let out a hiss as I pushed further and further
into him. Then, after I felt him relaxing into it, I pushed harder and harder
until each thrust had the force of a punch. I swear we started moving the
furniture! At first, Arch groaned quietly, almost a whimper, but then he started
grunting and gasping with each thrust. He pushed himself off the table, forcing
me deeper into him. I supported him with one arm around that taut stomach and
the other clamped around his hips. He reached back with one hand and grabbed my
hair. In no time, we both came, and we collapsed onto the desk, me on top of
him. I ran my hands over those muscles, rubbed his abs and pecs, nuzzled his
neck. Arch reached back and groped my ass. So worth the wait.
"Let me up. I gotta run the gym." I stood up, then he did. He picked up our
clothes and we started dressing. "One thing I wanna know, though. How do you
know Manny Arguilla?"
"Just a friend. Why?"
"Met him in the amateurs once. One of the toughest fights I ever won. Almost
like he read my mind or something. Hit like a bull. I heard he ended up in the
hospital after, then he dropped out of the game, right off the radar. Didn't
really recognize him until after the fight today. Deja vu, huh?"
Hmmmmmmmm......