Flashbulb-Popping: BioVlog 52 of 384

In round four, my opponent stomps the floor like a bull revving up for a charge. He abruptly switches his stance. He lunges, grabs my front hand and pulls it down, neutralizing my defense and exposing my face. Then he runs past me, bopping my left eye with his left fist and, in that flashbulb-popping instant, the little vision that I have momentarily goes dark. I’m shaking my head and blinking my eyes rapidly in an attempt to steady myself, the amorphous shapes wobbling wildly. “Keep your hands up!” Murphy shouts; and it is not advice…it is a command:  “Keep them up! Keep them up!”  

During the fifth round, I am so dazed that I simply don’t care if I am hit and, while I know that I am being pummeled, I don’t feel the punches or kicks. I’m certainly relieved when Rosemary signals the end of the last round by shouting: “Tiempo! Time!”