

I’m asked a lot, what am I thinking when I’m in the corner between rounds. The truth is I’m thinking nothing, I’m hearing nothing, I’m seeing nothing. It’s only rest. I can’t make out a word my coaches say and I don’t mind, sometimes I’ll take some water from them and sometimes I won’t. I let them ice me if I need it but at that moment, I am only waiting. When the referee says go, I can feel the rough yet bouncy mat on my feet, I can hear the slaps of my strikes, I can smell sweat from my match and the matches before mine. I can see my opponents game plan, their new movements planned and prepared especially for me. I feel mean, like a bully.