Intergender, Interracial Boxing

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White Collar Fight Clubs - hosting both Boxing and MMA bouts are a lot more prevalent than you might think. In towns and cities across all nations, one such place may exist very close to your own residence. A place where normal people can go and train and yes, fight for money, honour and prestige. If you haven't found your local fight club yet, perhaps you're not looking hard enough.

In the town of Middlewoodford, one such club inaugurated its' first middleweight Boxing champion last Saturday in an epic fight between a man and a woman. Not only was it an intergender fight, but it was also, in fact, an interracial fight between a white man and a black woman.

Fighting out of the red corner was Lee Armstrong. He stood 5'10 and weighed in right on the middleweight limit of 160lbs. He was 27 years old and had been Boxing since he was 12 and competing since he was 16. He boasted an impressive, undefeated record of 25-0 with 21 of his wins coming by knockout. Full of confidence, he was almost everyone's betting favourite to win the vacant title having come through the 16-person tournament with ease to reach the finals.

He walked to the ring to the renowned tune of "You're the Best" by Joe Esposito. His short blond hair was neatly styled and his steely blue eyes conveyed his focus. Disrobing to his baggy red shorts and laced up Boxing boots, his lean, chiselled physique further emphasized his dedication to training and the formidable challenge facing his opponent.

Fighting out of the blue corner was Tamisha Jackson. An attractive black woman that had recently celebrated her 40th birthday. She stood 5'9 and matched her opponent's weight of 160lbs. She had only been Boxing for 3 years but was undefeated with a record of 8-0 with 6 knockouts to her name.
She came to the ring to the music of 'Survivor' by Destiny's Child. She was built similarly to the Tennis player, Serena Williams, with clear muscle definition on her arms and upper body but it was her thighs and glutes – her full, round and proud buttocks that made people's eyes pop. She made her way to the ring without a robe surrounded by her all-female corner crew. Dressed all in black, including her gloves and boots, her ample E-cup breasts were encased in a tight sports bra that showcased a provocative amount of cleavage. She also wore high-cut, lycra shorts with a 4-inch wide, 8 inch long gladiatrix-style piece of black cloth with gold trim covering the front and rear of her skimpy shorts. With the side waist band of her shorts thinning to a mere half-inch, her attire really accentuated the imposing thickness and muscularity of her thighs. Her look was complete with tall, shiny boots that almost came up to her knees.

With so many women expressing an interest in the tournament, it had been set up with all male and all female sides of the draw, with the final match giving women what they wanted – equal opportunity and ultimately pitting the best woman and the best male against each other. In getting to final match, Tamisha represented all women. A mantle she was both nervous and proud to carry. Many believed it to be a foregone conclusion, however, that the men's side would produce the eventual champion. Especially when that man was local hero Lee Armstrong.

A crowd of a few hundred enthusiastic spectators crammed the club to more than its full capacity of seats with multiple extra rows lining the back, those at the very back stretching their necks for a glimpse of the action. Many men were bitter about a woman being willing and able to fight men and were cheering boisterously for their man, Armstrong. Meanwhile there was a strong contingent of women present, all showing their passionate support and cheering hard for their vested female interest, Ms. Jackson.

The fighters met in the centre of the ring for an intense stare-down. The confidence of the one-inch taller male was met with unflinching sternness from the slightly shorter female, her braided hair tied up in a lofty knot and her full, thick lips set to complete the defiant look. Armstrong had wide, angular shoulders, a defined six-pack plated core and extremely ripped upper body. Jackson was not quite as lean and ripped but still in incredible shape for both a woman and for her age. Her shoulders were almost as broad as her opponent's with capped deltoids and peaky biceps. Symmetrical, washboard abs were also clearly visible but it was her legs that made up the difference with several inches of extra thickness.

Armstrong looked relaxed, bobbing and light on his feet as the bell for round 1 of 10 finally sounded. The black female met the caucasian male in the centre for the first exchange of fists as the crowd exploded with wild cheers. Both attacked with quick fire 1-2 combinations, red and black gloves slicing and dicing but not finding their targets.

Tamisha looked the more tense and stiff as her boots were flat-footed on the canvas while Lee was up on his toes, looking loose and slick. Many of the jeering men were hoping to see the female quickly and violently knocked unconscious.

"GO ON MY SON!" ... "KNOCK HER OUT!" ... "SEE HER OFF, LAD!" Came screams from men at ringside.

Tamisha stubbornly stood her ground as Lee varied his punches, his feints drawing tense flinches. The speed difference was clear as the younger man's quick jabs forced her to cover up, his red gloves bruising her guarding forearms with aggressive hooks. The older woman looked to counter his advances but found nothing but air with her check hooks.

Armstrong continued to dominate, his confidence growing and growing. He stood in front of her with his hands down and chin in the air, baiting her to attack and then looking to counter. She was forced back to the ropes as he pressed home his advantage with more hard shots to his cowering opponent's arms.

"GET IN THERE, MASH HER UP!" Men's yells continued to be heard, clearly baying for blood at the woman's expense.

It looked to everyone to be a mismatch with many of the women wearing worried, silenced looks apart from a few rabid women still crazily cheering Tamisha on with their own fists in the air. But she could not seem to get into the fight.

Lee was having fun now, letting her off the ropes, baiting her, making her miss. More feints drew comical flinches as she covered up.

Lee attacked again, but so did Tamisha and in a sudden wild exchange that no one saw coming, she cracked him on the jaw with a crisp left hook, snapping his head to the side followed by a right cross, duffing his head to the other side. His legs buckled and he staggered to remain upright. The women EXPLODED into wild, maniacal cheering as it was now Tamisha hunting him down and pouring on the pressure having visibly hurt her opponent. She had him against the ropes, covering up and cowering as she attacked with an onslaught of explosive shots, upstairs and down, digging mean hooks to the body. Armstrong looked dazed and overwhelmed and could do little but continue to cover up and clear the cobwebs as best he could while absorbing the powerful punches of his opponent. Men were raucously yelling for him to fight back as the bell to end the first round sounded.
The short, skinny, grey-haired, sixty-something year old referee stepped between the two larger fighters to separate them as Jackson looked keen to keep going with her onslaught, but was guided back to her corner.

Both fighters were breathing heavily from a roller coaster of an opening round. They both took to their chairs and were doused in icy water to re-sharpen their senses. Lee's corner tended to a mouse already forming under his left eye and dabbed some blood from the corner of his mouth. His clear, pale complexion otherwise showing little sign of damage from his Boxing career to date. Tamisha's corner worked on slowing her breathing having expended a lot of energy in the final seconds of the round. The high cheek-boned ebony goddess was a vision of power as she took slow deep breaths in through her nose and out through the thick, pursed lips of her mouth.

The bell for round two sounded and Armstrong seemed to have recovered. His fleet feet were back under him, but Tamisha had established her presence and taken - not earned, but taken - the younger man's respect. He had to be weary of her power.

The 40 year old female looked to establish her own jab now, clearly more confident as she stalked forward. She leaned in and out, her eyes wide and looking for openings. Her heaving chest and cleavage leaving no doubt in her opponent's shocked mind that he was in a competitive fight with a woman.
Lee reset himself. He knew he was younger, fitter, faster, more experienced and a member of the stronger sex... He could still see nothing but an easy victory. He went back to using his agility and speed, evading her jabs as she plodded forward. He picked his opportunities and countered well, connecting with a few stinging jabs of his own before the less eventful round was out.

Rounds 3, 4 and 5 saw more of the same. A competitive amount of volume from both Boxers, but it was Armstrong with the better technique and landing the scoring shots. Nothing devastating, but he was beginning to put her back into a shell with his speed, reflex and superior Boxing skill.

Round 6 was Armstrong's best of the fight so far. His wiry legs sprang him in and out while Jackson's thick tree trunks remained planted and slow, leaving her a hittable target. He bopped her head back multiple times, electing a trickle of blood from her nose before the round was out.

The crowd were beginning to show their frustration with the men peeved that their boy hadn't finished her already and the women that Tamisha was soundly being out-boxed, slowly but surely falling way behind on the judges' scorecards.
Tamisha's all-female corner crew gave her some vigorous words of encouragement between rounds and the strong minded, muscular woman came out in the seventh with a renewed sense of determination. She pressed forward, throwing more volume and had her younger opponent on the retreat, still mindful of her power. Her punches mostly finding nothing but air, however. She aggressively lunged forward with the back piece of her gladiatrix-style shorts flapping high, showing a generous amount of her full, round rump in her thong-back shorts underneath.

In Tamisha's desperation to land a telling blow, she was becoming more complacent and opening herself to potential counters. Wise to this, Lee bided his time, baiting her with his hands down once again. She wound up and telegraphed a big lunging right hook and Lee took his opportunity to counter with an uppercut to the chin, stunning her before fluidly creating the space for a big overhand right that socked her on the jaw. She staggered back several paces before losing her balance and dropping to her big butt with her legs outspread wide.
Armstrong immediately raised his arms on connecting with the big overhand punch, but was quickly disappointed it had not knocked her out. She sat with a look of shock more than anything, her mouth open and eyes wide, blinking some focus back before clambering defiantly back to her feet as the referee went about his count. "3... 4... 5..."

The crowd was wild once again with the women cheering her resilience and the men sensing she was ready to be put to the sword.

The ref gave her the standing eight-count before allowing the match to continue. Armstrong swarmed in looking to finish her. Jackson proudly fought back and they exchanged again, but she was clearly still ropey and it was Armstrong that got the better of it, mashing her cheek with a left cross and connecting with another uppercut that straightened her up before she found herself backed up against the ropes.

She bravely toughed out the final seconds of the round with her back against the ropes with the bare chested man once again getting the better of the final exchange, snapping her head back with a neat, quick-fire one-two combination to cap off a dominant round for himself.

Tamisha slowly made her way back to her corner having lost another round and taken more punishment. She took a gulp of water and the ice-pack her corner-woman placed on her neck brought the stark realisation into her head that perhaps she was not good enough. She had been 100% confident of winning, but perhaps ultimately unrealistic. Her opponent was too quick, too good and too young. Then she remembered the lyrics to her walk-out song and how empowering they were to her and all women.

"I'm a survivor
I'm not gon' give up
I'm not gon' stop
I'm gon' work harder"

She looked down at her gloves and her gladiatrix shorts and domineering boots. She noted the big python-like muscles of her quads that used to leave the boys in her wake back in her sprinting days and at the squat rack every time hit the gym.
She was a proud, powerful woman and she would never be defeated in spirit. If this young white boy was truly better than her, he would have to earn it because she was always going to keep on fighting.

"He's gotta earn it. I'm gonna make him earn it!!" She spoke defiantly, rising to her feet.

"Yeah girl, you make him earn it!" Her corner echoed. They knew how strong minded and self motivated she was, even if she had to be reminded sometimes.
If she couldn't beat him on skill or speed, she would test his heart and toughness and whether it matched up to hers'. She was going to make this an ugly, bloody, dogfight.

Tamisha defiantly stepped into range, biting down on her mouthpiece and jabbed. Armstrong weaved her jab and fired off another quick one two that landed, but she stepped forward and took his punches to finally get off one of her own. She crunched the centre of his face with her jab and continued to stand her ground. She was now willing to take two or three to give one. She was constantly coming forward, walking onto his punches and getting bloodied up – her nose and mouth trickling blood – but the tough woman kept coming. Armstrong dug in some hard shots to the body but still she looked to hunt him down, returning fire, attacking him with body shots as well. Both fighters were now tiring, but it was still the male being more active and looking sharper. Towards the end of the round, Armstrong got off another nice flurry that had Jackson rocked again, backing her into the corner. She fought back and they tangled into a clinch.

The women in the crowd roared their approval as she set her thick, powerful legs and roughnecked the male around so that his back was against the ropes. With her heaving breasts pressing against him, she worked in some close-range body shots, driving the air from his lungs. Now he was breathing almost as hard as she was and she sent him back to his corner with blood also flowing from his nose.

Jackson went back to her corner with a renewed sense of confidence.

"C'mon girl. You've taken his best shots. Now show him what YOU got!!" Her corner woman encouraged.

Tamisha strutted back out, keen to do just that. She knew it would be another gruelling round. She was tired and hurting, but her proud, stubborn mind reassured her that her body would have to fail long before her spirit ever would.
She took another jab to land one of her own, defiantly verbalising the lyrics of her favourite song aloud as she boxed. "I'm NOT gon' give up ... I'm gon' work HARDER!" She grunted as she slugged her opponent back and continued to stalk him.

It frustrated Lee that his female opponent was motivating herself with the lyrics to such a silly, girly song. It frustrated him that his punches were not having more of an effect and that he hadn't finished her already.

It was the ninth and penultimate round. Armstrong measured his opponent, circling her as she occupied the centre of the ring. He feinted with a left and closed the distance with another overhand right, but this time it was Tamisha that countered beautifully, evading low and scoring with a thumping left to the body that she put her full weight behind.

The young man couldn't help but wear a grimace as the debilitating effects of her body shot took hold. He brought his glove down, favouring the right side of his body as he instinctively retreated away, clearly in pain.

A high-pitched scream of approval unanimously sounded from the females in attendance once again as Jackson wasted no time in chasing her wounded man down, winding up and swinging ruthlessly with all she had left. A wild left hook whiffed a mere inch from his chin before he was backed up against the ropes. He covered up as the aggressive ebony woman fired more hard shots, having rendered him a stationary target. Big looping haymakers duffed his tired arms from his face before a quick fire jab snapped his head back. Jackson took a deep breath and heaved another blow to the body, followed by a left cross that snapped her man's head aside. She was really pouring it on now. Her punches laboured from the exhausting fight, but still packing enough power to inflict serious damage.

Another battering body blow took the life from caucasian male's legs and he found himself involuntarily dropping to a knee. The referee halted Jackson's fierce onslaught and began to count out the downed male as Armstrong took in deep gulps of air while planted on one knee.

The ref hadn't reached a three-count before situational awareness kicked in and a deep sense of shame and humiliation overcame the male Boxer's senses. How could he have allowed himself to be rendered down and hurt by a woman? Publicly, no less. He had never been dropped in any of his previous 25 bouts. His mortifying embarrassment was heightened as he looked over at the vision of power that was his opponent, obediently standing in her corner with her thick legs in a wide, strong stance. Her menacing black gloves rested on her shapely feminine hips and her healthy ebony skin glowed with a sheen of hard-earned perspiration.

Armstrong took in a final gulp of oxygen and elevated himself defiantly back to his feet to beat the ref's count. The testosterone fuelled mentality had well and truly kicked in and drove him to a new level of aggression as his ears picked up several jeers and cheers from the still-screaming crowd.

"IT'S ONLY A WOMAN - WHAT ARE YOU PLAYING AT, BOY?" One angry man was heard to yell.

"C'MON GIIIIRLLLL, HE'S FINISHED, YOU GOT THIS!!" A woman then screeched.

The referee cleared Lee to continue as the male Boxer bit down on his mouthpiece and like a soldier, marched towards his enemy. The two combatants met in the centre of ring once again and engaged in another wild exchange as their gloves violently flew from various angles, but neither landed a significant punch before the bell sounded.

Tamisha raised her arms and drank in the applause of her fans, having made her presence known once again. She proudly strutted back to her corner with her head held high.

Both middleweights came out for the tenth and final round with one clear intention - to knock out their opponent. Jackson knew she needed a knockout to win, having lost seven rounds in a row since the first. Armstrong needed it too - not to win - he knew he could win if it came down to a points decision, but he needed it to restore his pride after being humiliatingly put down and literally reduced to his knees in the previous round. The only way he could win, was to put her down and out for good.

The two battle-weary Boxers wore the scars of battle so far, with the mouse under Armstrong's left eye swelling shut his vision. His mouth was dripping blood and his torso displayed the blotchy red welt's of his opponent's punishing body shots. Jackson's wide nostrils continued to leak thin lines of blood also.

Lee Armstrong measured his opponent as she stubbornly plodded forward, her feet still flat and looking for power punches. His plan was to counter her first attack and with a swift burst of man-power, he'd finish her. He was serious this time. No more messing around. He should've done it a long time ago, he told himself.

Like a tank, Jackson pressed forward, she hadn't taken a backwards step for many rounds now. Armstrong was also salty that she could defiantly take the centre of the ring and be the aggressor. By now, he was able to read her and time her techniques, though and knew exactly when to counter. Both fighters were fatigued, however, and knew that they had to be smart with what little explosive energy they had left.

Jackson was coy in throwing the first punch. She had also gleaned knowledge of her opponent's style and respected his speed and boxing ability.

Finally the aggressive female jabbed and stepped forward with an uppercut that Armstrong evaded. It wasn't the moment he was waiting for. He dropped his gloves and socked her with a swift jab down the centre, bopping her sore face before cycling to her power side and inviting her to throw a big right hook. She took the bait and Lee wasted no time with his counter, a check hook to the jaw and a big overhand. His initial hook landed with crisp precision, stunning and rocking her senses. His big overhand right also found its target and ploughed into jaw. Her thick meaty legs quivered but to Armstrong's dismay, held up and she did not go down. She fought back with a wild, uncoordinated hook, but Armstrong easily dodged it kept up his onslaught. The wobbly woman bravely absorbed more punches as she found herself on the ropes, toughing out his ever-lasting combination of punches with her defensive guard up. Finally Armstrong backed away, smart enough not to completely punch himself out, which he sensed he was close to doing.

He reversed a little, took a deep breath and came forward again, keen to keep up his advantage but upon throwing his next punch, she caught and clipped him this time and now it was Armstrong that was rocked. He reeled and zig zagged backwards as the not-much-less punch drunk female chased him down.
Armstrong, like a cornered and wounded animal, instinctively set his feet and bit down on his mouthpiece, fighting back once more and firing a right cross that connected beautifully on his oncoming opponent, blood and perspiration flew from the woman's face as her legs finally looked to give out. She staggered forwards and wrapped her muscly arms around him to maintain a vertical base. The male was keen to break away, but didn't have the energy. Both of their bodies entwined and tussled with the little energy each had left.

The referee separated them and the slugfest continued. Armstrong now looking the more fatigued and less active as his female opponent now pressed her advantage, openly swinging away with reckless abandon as he tried to retreat along the ropes, but she kept on him; left, right, left, right, left to the body, right uppercut, left, right. Her punches growing ever more lethargic and laboured, but she continued to swarm him in the pocket, not letting up. Bloodying and bludgeoning him, his nose and mouth streaming blood as more punches spread the crimson fluid, masking his face. Finally, standing off to his side, she connected with a cruel, short shot to the centre of his face, sounding a loud shout of effort in his ear as it impacted, crunching the cartilage and breaking his nose. The young man crumbled to the floor as he could take no more of the older woman's punishment. He writhed in agony, fought his semi-conscious senses and physically depleted lungs for enough air to clamber back to his feet before the ref could count him out. He rolled on his back before staggering back to his feet, steadying himself and telling the ref in no uncertain terms not to call the fight.

The ref granted him his wish and let the fight continue with less than half a minute remaining in the final round.

Tamisha stepped forward and offered a touch of gloves out of respect prior to the final push where both fighters would leave everything they had in the ring.

Lee Armstrong, extended his gloves to meet her sporting touch, but at the last minute swung a cheap shot, clubbing her unprotected face. A loud "OOOOWWWWWWWW" erupted from the crowd as Tamisha was once again staggered backwards. Armstrong followed up with lefts and rights, but clearly did not have enough left to finish the job and now Tamisha was fighting back once again as the slugfest ensued. She clipped him with another hook, slicing past his meagre punches and connected with series of follow-up punches, bopping his head and backing him against the ropes once more. The caucasian male's arms were almost too heavy to lift as he pawed her face with a pitiful punch that did not deter her in the slightest. The ebony powerhouse cornered her man and set her thick powerful legs in a wide stance before winding up and ploughing a big right cross into his jaw. She screamed aloud as she exerted all the energy she had left into one final looping right hook, catching the unsteady and exhausted male once again with the final punch that ended the fight and knocked him unconscious. His head violently slammed by its shuddering force that also sent his gum-shield flying through the air, multiple rows back into the crowd along with a spray of blood from his beaten face.

Armstrong's stiffened body twisted to the side and collapsed front-first into the ropes before humiliatingly being thrusted out into the ring, crashing down, out like a light on his back.

The victorious female took one look at the supine male and immediately registered the fact that her mental tenacity and physical power had prevailed. She stepped over his unconscious body, one shiny boot either side of his hips body and threw her arms into the air before the deliriously ecstatic crowd of cheering females and dejected, slack jawed males.

The superior black female held the pose as her corner-women rushed in to congratulate her and strap the title belt around her waist. With her impressive muscles pumped and heaving, she looked every bit a victorious gladiatrix and triumphant champion. The inferior and still unconscious beaten male was pulled from the ring and stretchered away as Tamisha Jackson was announced the proud winner.

Women of all ages, shapes and sizes spilled out of the club that evening bragging of Tamisha's hard-fought but undeniable victory.

One thing was clear; mixed fighting was here to stay in the town of Middlewoodford.

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