Carolina

It was the first time I ever went to see a boxing game. I remember it pretty well. It was on the first saturday of february, the 6th I believe. I just recently got interested in boxing, I didn't really know much about it. But as always I rushed into my new found interest and went to the fight. Deciding not to ask anyone with me I was in a 'loner'-mood. I just wanted to sit down, watch a boxing match and relax. After working all day- work in that period was the only way to put my mind at ease- I needed some distraction. It goes without saying that it is not a good sign when you work that much, but let me not get into that.

I have always had an aggresive nature, but due to education and socialisation it was hidden deep, deep inside. I never got in a fight, kept my calm most of the times, but I was and still am scared for the day that all that deep hidden agression will come to the surface, oh what would happen? From that thought I wanted to see the boxing game, those guys must have some anger in them, but unlike me, they didn't have it burried under a set of educational rules and societal wishes. They could release their anger in training and in the game. An interesting fact to me was that some boxers seemed very nice, peaceful people and others looked like real warmachines.

The match-up today was that of a Venezuelan warmachine against a Mexican fighter, surrounded by caring people and a good education. The fight represented some of the opposite feelings I had living in my body and soul. Where the warmachine was hidden under a lot of education. Altough, maybe, it was just the reverse. Maybe I was very peaceful in nature but made education me more aggresive. Oh, how would I know? Are we aggresive beings by nature or do we get raised into aggresion? Maybe the fight would give me some insight in the newly arised doubt about my nature.
Both fighters had an impressive record, the Venezuelan guy won all his 26 fights by way of KO. The Mexican boxer was a more technical refined fighter, winning 23 of his 25 fights. So seems being peafecul and fighting can go hand in hand. As I didn't have knowledge about the technical and tactical ability of the teams I didn't have a favorite. Altough someone who wons 26 fights by knockout must be good, right?

 It was an impressive venue where I entered, looking for my seat while some pre-fights -I have no idea how to call them- were going on. While getting to my reserved spot I thought to myself 'Let's hope there are some nice people sitting around me'. Since the last thing I needed were annoying people who would give their 'expert-opinion' on a fight. I couldn't care less about what was the right boxing technique, I just want to see a nice fight. But well, I guess the people next to me were allright, since I don't remember them at all. So I was all prepared to see a good fight, I hoped it would last a few rounds before one got knocked out.

All my preparation, my good seat, my interest in the fight faded right after they introduced the fighters to the ring. My eye fell on the wife of the Venezuelan fighter, next to their two kids. Not that I care about family values or  the feeling "it must be nice to have a family", no I was struck by the fear in the eyes of that beautiful woman. Naively I thought it was because she was scared her husband would get into trouble during the fight. And she was right to be scared, after 2 rounds the blood was running from his head after a jab from the Mexican fighter. I had never seen this before, such an injury. But well no reason to stop the fight apparently. A warmachine might get motivated by blood, so the next rounds the Venezuelan boxer took over the match, never letting it go again.

His wife looked a little less worried, as she lost herself in her two little kids. While her husband kept hitting his opponent until the point the entourage of the latter asked the ref to stop the fight. So no brutal fight until the end, but a fight ending where the protecting people step in. No cruelty, someheow a 'happy' end. Since the best fighter one and the loser didn't get knocked to the canvas or worse.

After the end my eyes went again to the wife of our Venezuelan boxer. Her stare was filled with a huge fright. Even more so than before the fight, there was a sadness in her eyes. She was sad the fight was over. She didn't run upto her husband, she just stood there and remained scared. I believe all she realy wanted to do was run away and be in peace. But for some reason she couldn't, she seemed pressured into a life she didn't want.

That night was the first time I saw how a person looks when knowing her end is near, while no one else in the world realises. And there was no way for her to escape, she lived waiting for the fatal end... I wished to God he wouldn't have her suffer anymore. Or he should set her free in life or get over with it. But stop letting that beautiful woman live in fear, you Creature. Anyways Carolina was found death in her house before summer came, followed by her killer and husband, who took his life a week later.