"In the eye's of a boxer"

When I was growing up, boxing was a key factor in my life. It made stuff easier at the time and acted as a barrier whenever I would get into trouble at school with my teachers. To them, I was always either sore or beat up so they would feel remorse and I would manage to get myself out of being grounded. It was introduced to me by my father when I was six, and it became mandatory to go to the gym by age seven. My father had strict rules when it came to Boxing. If I would ever brake or bend any of his rules I would not see the end of it. It was nearly impossible having to live up to his expectations since he had new ones every week. I despised it at first, but soon after became fascinated with the sport because it gave me the desire to overcome obstacles. After participating in various competitions throughout my life, I ended up winning the state tournament which made my ego shoot out the roof. A month later, I received the date for nationals for the third time in my amateur career and was astonished upon finding out that it was taking place in Las Vegas. Despite the excitement I had about training camp and sight seeing in Vegas, I was not so enthused about starting a low- carb diet. I had a coach by the name of John Brooks who trained young fighters in a tiny gym that consisted of two storage spaces. It reeked of smelly old gym bags and their was a boxing ring made by hammering a couple of two by fours and some plywood together. My workout usually began by running six to eight miles along South Padre Island with temperatures ranging from a hundred to a hundred and fifteen degrees. I would run for about an two hours and after my body would glisten with sweat. The sodium from my perspiration would cut away at my lips, and the brink of dehydration made it difficult for me to drink water. What I always looked forward to the most throughout my workout was hitting the punching bags. It was twelve rounds of all out punching until my arms were so exhausted that they felt like Ramen noodles. Despite being so broken down after hitting the bags, I had to bang a tire for half an hour with a sledge hammer. My workouts were tough and rigorous but I was driven to win Nationals. After under going two long months of viscous training, I arrived at the Las Vegas airport. We chose not to check into to our hotel and instead went to the arena where the competition was going to take place so I could see who my opponent was. I ended up fighting a child from "Tough Boxing Gym" in California. I figured we were both evenly matched but when we met face to face I found myself staring at his chin. I recall being extremely nervous standing at my corner, thinking to myself whether or not I was going to be the one to go home after this bout. From the moment the first bell rang, I unleashed my arsenal of combinations from jabs, to hooks, even overhand rights. By the time the round had finished, I figured out his weakness. The next round, I came out applying more pressure which then led to a second round knockout. I walked defiantly to my corner realizing the I had got my first win by knockout. Soon after my first fight, I found out that my next opponent was from "Dan's Boxing Gym" in Chicago. At the time he was a well known amateur who had came in second at the Sunshine State Games. Even-though many of the judges were predicting me to lose, I never lost confidence in my abilities. During the first round I could feel the leather of his gloves burning the sides of my face and the taste of iron from the blood that was slowly dripping from my lip. I remember walking to my corner stunned and confused because of the outcome of the first round. I thought I would be able to dominate in the next round but he triumphed over me by tormenting my mid section. I remember me thinking the fight was over until the third round came around and I knocked him down with a