The Hot Prospect

Memba Ben By Memba Ben, 19th Nov 2017 | Follow this author | RSS Feed
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>Fictional Narrative

A tale about a boxing match between a veteran at the tail end of his career and a young prospect. This part focuses on the prospect with the theme of pride coming before the fall.

The tale of the hot prospect and the wily veteran.

I had just turned pro and my management team got me onto an undercard of a middleweight title fight. I was so excited. I was touted as the next big thing in boxing, having run through the amateurs with a near impeccable record of 94-6.

I was the fast-talking knockout artist; flooring people with both words and fists.

The stage was set for me to take the boxing world by storm and my coming out party was against some old ass, washed up journeyman who in his prime was more of a gatekeeper than an actual contender.

To top it off, he had 1-5 record coming into this fight.

There is no way in hell I’m losing to THIS guy…

I never thought of the fight as anything else but an opportunity to start my highlight reel of knockouts. I was on my way to being greater than what he’d ever been. He was probably old enough to have been alive during biblical times and he was still crazy enough to accept a …with ME of all people! Dementia must’ve been setting in…

I don’t need to train for this, I’ve got this.

With the biggest prospect in recent years set to make his debut, the press was watching my every move and I figured to take advantage of the coverage. All the greats had larger than life auras and I wanted to emulate them any which way I could.

After all, any publicity was good exposure for my brand.

I attended every media briefing, said all the right things and soon enough, the spotlight was firmly on me. I might’ve not been in the main event but everyone pretty much agreed that I was the main attraction. The media wanted more of me and I was happy to oblige but the more media appearances I had to make, the less time I actually took to prepare for the fight. My team brought up their concerns and pleaded that I take the fight more seriously.

What for? I told you guys – I got this.

As Fight Night drew closer and closer, I went on the offensive in the press. The journalists kept asking leading questions and I was more than happy to give them headlines for their newspaper sports section.

He had a good run but I’m gonna take him to the back of the shed and put him down.

My teams’ protests grew louder over the few remaining days but I waved them off. I don’t know why they are so worried; I have this in the bag.

Come Fight Night, I’ll prove their concerns were baseless.


I hear the announcer mention my fight is next and instantaneously hear the anticipation in the crowd growing. My entrance music blares over the system and I begin my walk out. My coach is furiously shouting at me but the words go in one ear and out the other.

Only one thought is on my mind

It’s my time to shine.

I walk out and find the place is packed to the rafters. In the crowd, I can see celebrities, prominent boxers and important matchmakers in the crowd. That’s when I knew I made it.

They came to see me.

I already have everything planned out. After knocking this dinosaur out, I’m going to name drop the champ in my division so that he knows that I’m coming for him. I will be all over social media. My name will be trending and I will have gone from hot prospect to superstar status.

Let the good times roll!


It’s a total disaster.

I must’ve tried everything but this guy was just out of this world. For every punch or combination I threw, he was able to figure out the punch order and maneuver out of the way, leaving me wide open for him to throw his combinations. When I did manage to land, his reflexes were fast enough to block reactively and my punches ended up landing on his arms, which scored me no points.

What the fuck!?!?! This isn't what I signed up for! Where the hell is the old man who had a 1-5 record coming into this fight? How the hell did he become so good? This prehistoric being is outclassing me and worst of all, the crowd is cheering for him!


I was getting desperate. It was the eighth round and things were looking grim. Whereas I was beginning to tire from being the aggressor the entire fight, he looked as fresh as he was in the first. On top of that, I was sure that I was behind on the scorecards.

With no signs of any momentum swinging in my favour, the fight was looking as good as done so I needed to pull a rabbit out of the hat.

Fuck it, I’m gonna go for broke.

Abandoning my previous strategy of trying to box fancy, I threw caution to the wind and came out swinging for the fences.

If I could just land that one hit, then momentum will be on my side and I’ll be back in the game.

It was a stupid idea.

If the earlier rounds were bad, they were a positive compared to what the later rounds became. I further exhausted myself throwing everything and the kitchen sink at the bastard but he avoided my onslaught with agility and movement akin to Neo in the Matrix. At that point, a heart attack or old age had a better chance of taking him out than I did. My hands fell to my sides from the exhaustion and I was breathing heavily from my mouth.

I was a sitting duck and he knew it.

He cautiously came forward and out of desperation, I put everything into a right hook.

All or nothing.

A miss.

I pivot my body to his direction to try again but as I turn, the last thing I see is an incoming left.



Boxing, Fictional Short Story, Fictional Story, Fights, Humourous Stories, Humourous Story

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author avatar Memba Ben
A fan's view on the business of football.

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