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       #Post#: 1527--------------------------------------------------
       A Puncher's Chance - Chapter 4 - Focus Lessons
       By: RampageSports Date: May 22, 2015, 10:06 pm
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       A Puncher's Chance - Chapter 4 - Focus Lessons
       I was back a few minutes later, looking very monochromatic in
       black bike shorts and simple gray tank top.  The top was long,
       and it hung down far enough to almost cover the shorts.  I chose
       it because it was loose and comfortable, and it allowed for easy
       movement.
       What my choice in footwear... or, in this case, legwear...
       lacked in style it more than made up for in utility.  Strapped
       to my legs was a pair of plain black shin guards.  My handwear
       selection didn't have a lot of flair to it, either.  Instead of
       the usual fingerless fight gloves, I carried with me what look
       like a pair of large, black, circular pillows... which is
       basically what they were.  The proper name for them was "focus
       mitts," and they are a tool widely used in combat sport
       training.
       As soon as Brittany noticed my accessories, the dismay was clear
       on her face.
       "Awww," she whined.
       "What?"
       "I was looking forward to punching you in the face."
       You see what I mean?
       "Well, then you were going to be disappointed, either way," I
       replied.  "At least this way will be less painful for you."
       "Uh, huh," she said incredulously.
       The way the focus mitts work seems pretty simple.  The person
       with the mitts calls out a strike, and the fighter throws it.
       As long as the mitts are put in the right places at the right
       times, all is well, right?
       Yeah... I thought so, too.  Turns out, it's an art form for the
       punchee, not just a exercise for the puncher.  A fact I learned
       the hard way.
       On the first day Danni and Steph were off in Dragonland, I
       showed up in the training area, ready to help out however I
       could.  And, much to the surprise of most of the women, I was
       pretty good at it.  I had advice to share, techniques to teach
       and even ideas on how to shake up some of our established
       workout routines.  The ladies were impressed, and it didn't take
       long for them to warm to my being there.  By the end of the day,
       I had established myself into the flow of things, and I was
       feeling pretty good about myself.  That was around the time I
       noticed Tiffany Mulheron in one of the cages, holding the mitts
       for Emma Watson.  I walked over and asked Tiff to let me take a
       shot at it.
       Once again, I was impressive.  If only in the spectacularity of
       my failure.
       Tiff immediately asked if I'd ever done it before.  I admitted
       that I hadn't, and Emma snickered.
       I probably should have taken that as a hint.
       I had been the puncher many times, so I understood the basics of
       using the mitts.  It starts with a numbered list of strikes.
       One for the jab, two for the cross and so on.  The list varies a
       little from place to place, but the differences are usually
       slight.  The receiver... which is the formal name for the
       punchee... calls out a number, then positions the mitt in the
       proper place to receive the requested strike.
       So, I called out "one" and positioned the mitt accordingly.
       Emma threw a nice, crisp jab that hit the mitt dead center and
       drove it straight back into my face.
       I heard her laugh as I shook off the impact.  I said, "Shut up,
       Watson," then turned to Tiffany and asked her what I did wrong.
       To her credit, she resisted the urge to say "everything," and
       tried to straighten me out.  She talked me through it a few
       times, and... ten minutes later... I was able to receive Emma's
       jab using only the mitt and not my head.
       Now that I was an expert, I decided to try a combo.  "One, two,"
       I called out.  The jab landed just like it was supposed to, but
       I didn't allow any space to deal with the fact that Emma would
       be stepping into the cross.  This put her more than a foot
       closer to me than when she'd started, which meant the punch was
       going to stop somewhere behind me.  I got the mitt out of the
       way so Emma didn't rip my hand off and just managed to slip the
       punch... her gloved fist whipping past the right side of my
       face.
       "Huh," I said, then turned back to Tiff for another lesson.
       After I got my role in that combo squared away, I felt like I
       was getting the hang of it.  So, I decided to go one more step,
       adding in the left hook.  "One, two, three," I called.
       Normally, the three punch combo was a jab, followed the cross,
       and concluding with a left hook to the body.  I positioned both
       myself and the mitts accordingly.  The jab worked out fine. Emma
       and I coordinated perfectly on the cross.  Then, I moved the
       mitt down low to protect my side from the hook, and Emma punched
       me directly in the face.  She realized what was happening and
       tried to pull the punch at the last second, but the force of the
       blow combined with my total lack of preparedness to send me
       reeling.  I landed face down on the canvas, sprawled out like I
       was dead.
       From behind me, I heard Emma say, "Oh sh*t!  I'm sorry!"
       Both women hurried over to help me, but I managed to roll over
       and sit up on my own.  I spread my mitted hands out in from of
       me and said, "What the hell was that?"
       "Punches to the body end with 'b,'" Tiffany explained.  "You
       should have said '3b.'"
       I nodded, recognizing that not checking how the RSI list was set
       up was easily the stupidest mistake I'd made, so far.
       I stood up, ripped the mitts from my hands and gave them back to
       Tiffany.
       "Take these f*cking things away from me before I kill myself," I
       said.
       That got Emma laughing again, which earned her another, "Shut
       up, Watson," as I retreated to the safety of the other side of
       the cage.
       I stood and watched for a while, wondering how Tiffany made it
       look so easy.  The more I watched, the more determined I became.
       The day had revealed to me that I enjoyed being here, involved
       in the training process.  I wanted to become a permanent part of
       this.  That meant figuring this mitt thing out.
       Late that evening, Danni and Steph arrived after their
       activities at Dragon's Den had concluded for the day.  I gave
       Danni just about enough time to settle in before I walked into
       her office and put a pair of focus mitts on her desk.
       "Teach me how to use these damn things," I said.
       The tone of my voice told her everything she needed to know.
       "Bad day?" she asked.
       "Good day.  Bad ending," I replied.
       She eyed the mitts.
       "You tried to use these?"
       "I did, and I failed quite miserably."
       "You realize there are maybe ten women in the building who know
       how to use these, right?"
       "Then I want to be number eleven."
       She narrowed her eyes.
       "You're planning to get involved in training."
       In typical Danni form, it was not a question.  She knew what my
       newfound interest was going to lead to.
       "Yes," I said.
       "Steph has things running pretty smoothly," she said
       skeptically.
       "You and Steph have things running pretty smoothly," I
       corrected.  "I'm not looking to get in the way.  I just want
       in."
       A small smile spread across her face.
       "I told you this was going to happen."
       Not that long ago, Danni made a comment about fighting being in
       my blood.  She posited a theory that I wouldn't be able to stay
       away from it for long.
       "Maybe you were right," I said.  "Maybe it's something else.
       All I know is that I had fun today."
       She nodded.
       "I did hear good things about you,"  she said.
       I fought off the impulse to say, "Who gives a sh*t what you
       heard?  Don't I own this place?" and chose a more circumspect
       approach.
       "Am I being reviewed?" I asked.
       "No," she said patiently.  "I'm just saying no one knew what to
       make of you coming out onto the floor.  In the end, I think they
       had fun, too."
       "Of course they did," I said as seriously as I could manage.
       "Why wouldn't they?"
       "Why, indeed," she said with a smile.
       She studied me for a moment.  I don't know exactly what she was
       looking for, so I had no way of knowing if she found it.
       "Okay," she said with a nod, "I get here too late when we're at
       the Den, so we'll start Wednesday."
       "Start?" I asked.
       She got a pretty good laugh out of that, and then said, "You'll
       see on Wednesday."
       I didn't really get to see until Thursday.  On Wednesday, we
       started off with Danni as the puncher, as she guided me through
       receiving each of the different strikes.  No good.  I learned a
       little, but couldn't keep up when she turned up the speed.
       Using me as the receiver prevented me from really seeing what
       Danni was talking about.  I needed to be able to just observe,
       rather than actively being a part of the demonstration.  So,
       Danni found someone else to do the punching on Thursday, which
       allowed her to take the mitts.
       Guess who she came up with.  Go ahead.  Guess.
       "You gotta be kidding me," I said, upon seeing Emma walk in with
       Danni on that second day.
       "That's not nice," Emma said, faking a pouty face.  "I'm only
       here to help."
       "Yeah.  You were such a big help the other day."
       "I don't think that's fair," she said.
       Then, that deceptive little smile of hers appeared as she added,
       "After all, it's not my fault you looked like a doofus."
       I looked at Danni and said sarcastically, "Really?  This is the
       best you could do?"
       She looked back and forth between Emma and I, then shook her
       head and said, "Let's go," to Emma as she motioned her into the
       cage.
       The two of them started out by slowly working through the jab,
       the cross and then the hook.  I was rigidly attentive, even
       mimicking Danni's movements to get a little feel for it.
       Then, Danni told Emma to let the combo fly at full speed, and my
       focus went all to hell in a hurry.
       "Ho-lee sh*t," I said involuntarily as I watched Emma's little
       fists whip around like bullets.  She finished the whole combo in
       the blink of an eye, yet every strike landed with perfect
       precision.
       "Aww," Emma said as she reset herself.  "You're making me
       blush."
       I smiled and shook my head.
       "You're supposed to be watching me, stupid," Danni said.
       "Yes, drill sergeant," I said, snapping to attention and giving
       her a little salute.
       She did not appear to be amused.
       They had to run through it twice more before I managed to block
       Emma out and watch Danni exclusively.  But, when I did, I
       immediately gained a whole new appreciation for the receiver's
       role.  Every movement Danni made was as fluid and precise as
       Emma's.  Not just her hands.  Her feet and body positioning were
       exact, as well.
       All at once, I realized I had a lot to learn.  And I didn't even
       know the half of it.
       Two weeks.  Two friggin' weeks it took to get me trained on
       using the mitts.  I learned about feeding into the strikes.  I
       learned about footwork and ring movement.  I learned about body
       positioning and counter-movements.
       I learned enough sh*t to fill an encyclopedia.
       And don't even get me started on the shin guards.
       Even then, I was no expert.  At best, you could say I was
       sufficiently competent.  But, I kept at it, working with the
       various fighters during the day, and Danni whenever we could in
       the evenings.
       Now, here I was... nearly five months later, and I had only
       recently become truly comfortable with all of it.
       Like I said, it's an art.
       [hr]
       Character Reference
  HTML https://aade768506dacb303a01a361d3dc0d27209a5ec4.googledrive.com/host/0Bz8YsEjMxOhMMXhVcF82aG5SXzA/Richelle_100x120.jpg
       Name: Richelle Winterfeld
       Nickname(s):
       Background: Owner of the RSI stable, former underground fighter
  HTML https://aade768506dacb303a01a361d3dc0d27209a5ec4.googledrive.com/host/0Bz8YsEjMxOhMMXhVcF82aG5SXzA/Danni_100x120.jpg
       Name: Danneel Harris
       Nickname(s): Danni
       Background: RSI stable leader, reigning DEF welterweight
       champion
  HTML https://aade768506dacb303a01a361d3dc0d27209a5ec4.googledrive.com/host/0Bz8YsEjMxOhMMXhVcF82aG5SXzA/Stephanie_100x120.jpg
       Name: Stephanie McMahon
       Nickname(s): Steph
       Background: RSI's fighter development coordinator, reigning SCQ
       super heavyweight champion
  HTML https://aade768506dacb303a01a361d3dc0d27209a5ec4.googledrive.com/host/0Bz8YsEjMxOhMMXhVcF82aG5SXzA/Brittany_100x120.jpg
       Name: Brittany Tacy
       Nickname(s):
       Background: FAC lightweight contender
  HTML https://aade768506dacb303a01a361d3dc0d27209a5ec4.googledrive.com/host/0Bz8YsEjMxOhMMXhVcF82aG5SXzA/Emma_100x120.jpg
       Name: Emma Watson
       Nickname(s):
       Background: Reigning FAC featherweight champion, training
       partner and romantic partner of Tiffany Mulheron
  HTML https://aade768506dacb303a01a361d3dc0d27209a5ec4.googledrive.com/host/0Bz8YsEjMxOhMMXhVcF82aG5SXzA/Tiffany_100x120.jpg
       Name: Tiffany Mulheron
       Nickname(s): Tiff
       Background: Reigning ESL featherweight champion, training
       partner and romantic partner of Emma Watson
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