See you in September, swimmer

The shoulder went numb first. That is the part I keep landing on. One clean right hand from a twenty-three-year-old with two stoppages and the arm was gone for a second. A second is not long. A second is also the length of time a man can finish a fight he has already won. I did not finish it. I knocked him through the ropes instead. Different thing.

The drop felt like — I don't have a word for it. I have hit people before. I have not put anyone on the apron before. The floor erupted and Rob nodded and Hannah said good work from the bags like she was reading the weather and I tapped gloves with Dex at six because he earned the count and then I called time on the round. That is the version I will give anyone who asks. Here is the other one. I called time because my hand hurt from the second shot, the right upstairs, and I wanted to stop before I found out what the shoulder was going to do next.

Rob texted. Dex rang the gym, said that was the hardest round he has had. I am looking at the message and I have not replied. If Dex says that, then I need to be the man who drops a kid through the ropes and then texts back thank you. I can be that man. I am just not ready tonight.