Head Kick (The Dojo) Page 5

  “Congratulations, Nong!” Mom says as she hugs me under the big “happy graduation” banner hanging in our backyard. It’s a pretty noisy party because most of my family is here.

  “Well done, son!” Dad adds. Kia takes a picture of Mom, Dad, and me together. Dad actually seems proud of me for doing something, but maybe because it’s something that he wanted me to achieve. I wonder if he’ll be as proud when—I mean if—I win my first fight.

  Because of my fight tomorrow night, I have to pass up all the food Mom and others prepared. I’ve weighed in at 140 every morning and I’ve thrown away my junk food stash. I will make weight, I will fight, and I will win, but if I don’t, it doesn’t make me a loser.

  “Thanks for the invite,” Jackson says, and we bump fists. Tyresha stands next to him. I look for May Li so I can stand next to her.

  “Nong, lots of pressure to keep up the winning streak now,” Tyresha says. Both Hector and Jackson won their debut fights. Meghan fights her first amateur bout tomorrow night as well.

  I shrug. “Yeah, I’m not worried about that. I just want to fight a smart fight,” I respond. Jackson, Tyresha, and I talk MMA until May Li comes over. She’s with one of her good friends, Charlotte. Here it is: my worlds colliding. I make introductions, and they seem to mix pretty well for two groups of people that have nothing in common except me.

  “So, May Li, they gave me two free tickets to the fight. Would you like them?” I ask. It’s a calculated risk that she is less likely to reject me in public than in private.

  May Li looks at Charlotte, then back at me, and says, “You won’t get hurt, will you?”

  “Probably, but that’s part of the sport,” I answer. “It’s part of life.” I give her the tickets.

  “Amen,” Jackson says, which for some reason makes Tyresha laugh. The five of us talk about school, graduating, and our plans. May Li and Charlotte are going away to colleges in California. The only thing that Jackson, Tyresha, and I know for sure is we’re going to continue to train for MMA, although Tyresha says she’s thinking about switching dojos. I don’t ask why, but I couldn’t imagine better teachers than Mr. Hodge and Mr. Matsuda.

  “Hey, new fish!” Jackson says when Lue joins our group. Lue’s girlfriend, Cindy, stands by his side. Lue and Tyresha talk about how hard training at the dojo is, while Jackson and I tell stories about when we started. “You listen, you learn. You talk, you get beat, understand?”

  Lue nods his head and asks more questions about the training. Jackson talks about how the training doesn’t build just MMA skills but confidence in yourself as a person too. May Li and Charlotte seem interested and compare their high-pressure school careers with what we went through in the dojo. My separate worlds seem not so different after all.

  Then Ywj shows up. He slaps me on the back, hard. “These your fighter buds, runt?” he asks.

  “Runt?” Jackson asks. I take a deep breath and let it pass. Not now, not yet.

  Tha and Vam come up behind us like two dark clouds. Except for Jackson, who is as tall as Ywj, the three of them tower over us. I introduce my brothers to everyone.

  “This runt thinks he’s a fighter, but all I remember about him is Tha and Vam kicking his scrawny butt all the time,” Ywj says and laughs way too loud. I notice that when he laughs, he sounds and looks just like my dad. “You’re sure MMA isn’t fake like WWE?”

  I look at Jackson and shake my head. “Let it go,” I whisper. It’s best to let these dark clouds pass. After another Nong humiliation story, my brothers head over to the food area.

  “What jerks,” Tyresha says. “Why do you put up with that?”

  “Because I always have,” is my weak answer.

  “My sisters used to tease me by calling me fat, stupid, and ugly,” May Li says.

  “I’d like to meet your sisters sometime,” I say, “so I could tell them how wrong they are.”

  My awkward flattery creates a low buzz and a wave of giggles. But the laughter in our group is soon overwhelmed by the sound of Bao crying. I stare at Ywj, Kia, and Bao. It looks like Bao just knocked over a plate of food. Kia’s cleaning it up while Ywj yells at Bao. “He spilled it, he’ll clean it up. You stupid runt!”

  When Bao hesitates, Ywj pulls his arm hard and sends him to the ground.

  I decide that’s it. Here. Now.

  “Ywj, leave him alone!” I shout from across the yard.

  Ywj looks at me, as does most everyone else. Pretty soon, the noisy party turns quiet as I walk toward my older brother. My mom takes a step toward me, but Dad pulls her back.

  “I told you, runt, this isn’t any of your business.”

  “This isn’t about Bao, it’s about me. I’m going to do something you never did for me.”

  “What?”

  “Make it a fair fight.”

  “Fight? You want to fight me, runt? I don’t think so.” Ywj’s laughing, and so are Tha and Vam. If Jackson could see the hard scowl on my face, he’d be proud. But my back is to my friends and my eyes are on my family. Dad’s got the oddest look I can’t describe on his face.

  I’m so close Ywj is casting a shadow over me in the twilight sun.

  “I’m not going to beat you up at your graduation party,” Ywj says over Bao’s crying.

  “You’re not going to beat me up. You’re not going to touch Bao ever again,” I respond.

  Ywj looks over at Dad for a cue. But Dad doesn’t say anything or get involved. Why should he start now? “Easy,” Ywj finally replies. “I don’t want you to get hurt.” Ywj reminds me of the Ninja Warrior, somebody who talks tough but fights weak or not at all.

  “Come on—Kia, Bao, we’re leaving,” Ywj says. When Bao runs toward me, Ywj grabs his arm and Bao screams in pain. Ywj lets go of Bao when my right foot connects with his head.

  Ywj staggers for a second and then rushes toward me. Like most bullies, he doesn’t know how to fight from in front, just behind. I deliver a solid front kick to his left knee. I keep throwing kicks at his knees and thighs, chopping him down like a tall tree. Soon, he’ll be my size.

  Mom screams for us to stop. So does Kia. For both, it’s too little and way too late.

  “You kick like a girl!” Ywj says, throwing a weak jab. I sidestep it and respond with a right jab, overhand left, and a right hook into his ribs. I think I hear a cracking sound: his ribs or my hand.

  Ywj tries fighting back, but his punches miss. In close, I throw another hard front kick to his left, then right knee. When I throw a kick to his ribs, he grabs my leg. As I tumble toward the grass, I pull him down with me. He falls wildly, while I get position. A full mount.

  “Knock it off!” Tha shouts and starts toward me with Vam by his side.

  “I don’t think so,” Lue says, Jackson by his side. Vam and Tha take a step back.

  Ywj’s trying to get up, but he’s not going anywhere as I sit on his chest. With my right hand, I throw a hard punch to the side of his head. I hear the cracking sound again. As his arms flail, I use elbow strikes, which open cuts above both his eyes. I wonder if there are tears mixing with the blood. I move from mount to side control and quickly get his back. I scissor his lower body with my legs and wrap my arms around his neck and head.

  “Who is the runt now?” I whisper into Ywj’s ear like a lullaby as he drifts off to sleep.

  “Nong, please stop,” I hear a voice say. A female voice. May Li’s voice, so I stop.

  I don’t go with the rest of my family to the hospital, even though I should. In the bathroom, I examine my right hand where at least two, maybe three fingers feel broken. The hand itself is bruised. I swallow some aspirin, wrap up the hand with athletic tape, and head toward my bed. Three things will happen tomorrow. First, I will fight for the first time in a real MMA competition even though I have a broken hand. Second, having stood up for myself—and for Bao—I’ll see if that overdue action breaks our family apart or makes it stronger somehow. Even if my family isn’t stronger, I know I am. Third, I’ll see if Nong
Vang can fight better in reality than Nong “Ninja Warrior” Vang ever did in his imagination.

  NONG VANG REG HANSON

  AGE 18 25

  HEIGHT 5' 4" 5' 7"

  REACH 66" 71"

  RECORD 0–0 7–1

  I concentrate on the ref’s instructions, anything so I don’t focus on the pain in my right hand. Mr. Hodge didn’t ask me why I arrived at the arena with my hands already taped, nor did he ask why I cut to 140 pounds, as much as five pounds less than a featherweight opponent. The only thing he asked was if I remembered the game plan. I said I did, but told him with the reach advantage that Hanson had on me, I’d probably need to close the distance using kicks rather than punches.

  After the instructions, I put out my left glove and Hanson taps it. As I return to my corner, I want to look into the audience to see if May Li and Charlotte are there. But maybe by balancing the scales of the past, I ruined a chance of a future with May Li. I know Mom and Dad are in the audience; I know that Vam and Tha are not. I know that Ywj is still in the hospital and that I will be, after this fight. And I know that I’ll do my best, because nothing’s better than that.

  The bell rings, and I get position in the center of the cage. Hanson tries to shoot right away, but I sidestep and throw a front kick followed by an inside leg kick. Hanson fights back with jabs. I throw a left hook that misses, but a right jab that I land hurts me more than it does him. A roundhouse kick of his connects hard with my shoulder. Knowing my fists need a break, I use every kick I know: inside roundhouse kick to his thigh, front kick to his knee, and a side kick that just misses under his chin. As long as I keep kicking, he can’t focus on the offensive.

  “Thirty seconds, Reg, let’s go!” I hear his coach shout.

  “Jab, Nong, jab!” Mr. Hodge yells.

  I throw a front kick, but Hanson dodges it and hits a perfect sweeping hip throw, then follows me down and gets position behind. I sense the rear naked choke but defend it just as Mr. Matsuda taught me, by pulling down on the elbow and bridging back. I break free just as the bell rings.

  In the corner, Mr. Hodge tells me I need to throw more punches, which will set up better kicks. He’s right, except I can’t tell him that I broke my hand before the fight, so there’s only one way I’m going to win: a head kick.

  When the bell rings for the second round, we circle for a long time, both tentative. I need to close the distance. I hit a strong side kick and push toward him. Up against the cage, I grab a Thai clinch and try to bring up knees, but he’s too tall for me to connect to his jaw. I push away, and with distance between us, I fake a kick and a left. Then I deliver a hard right jab that connects against the little bit of flesh the helmet exposes. Hanson grunts and I wince. My attempt at a sweeping hip throw fails when he muscles me down to the mat. In my closed guard, he starts throwing quick hammer fists.

  “Ten seconds!”

  I pop my hips and try to regain my feet, but he pulls me down again and is back on top when the bell rings.

  “Nong, why aren’t you throwing jabs?” Mr. Hodge asks.

  “I think I broke my hand.”

  “Do you want to quit?”

  “No way, I want to finish this fight.”

  Mr. Hodge wipes the sweat off my face. “Then you need to submit him. Those first two rounds were close, but you’ve got to stop those takedowns. You can do this, Nong, I know it.”

  I put my mouthpiece back in just before the bell rings. Hanson and I touch gloves. After I land a hard roundhouse kick to his knee, he shoots and grabs a double leg. I try to push free, but it’s locked and we’re headed toward the mat. He lands a few punches that sting. The last one goes right to the bridge of my nose. His balance seems off, so I slip out my right leg. I get my shin under his throat and pull down with my hands locked around his neck, but with my injured hand, I can’t maintain the necessary grip to execute the gogoplata. He gets free, and we’re back on our feet.

  “Ten seconds!”

  Hanson backs away, but I rush toward him. He throws a hard shot to the body, leaving his head wide open. I throw a high roundhouse kick that lands hard. It knocks him back into the cage. I try one more, but he deflects it as the bell sounds.

  We touch gloves, stand in the middle of the ring, and await the verdict from the judges. Our heads are down, but in seconds, someone will hold their head high in victory.

  When I hear the announcer speak, my heart is beating faster than it was in the ring. One judge gives the match to me; another gives it to Hanson. And then it comes, harder than a head kick.

  “Your winner by split decision,” the announcer says, “Reg Hanson!” The two of us go through the bout ending rituals. Some people boo the decision, but not me. I know if I would have been at one hundred percent, I would probably have won, but it doesn’t matter. You can’t go back, you can only look forward. As I walk with Mr. Hodge back to the dressing room, I see May Li standing next to Charlotte. When May Li blows me a kiss, I wonder if I’m daydreaming. But this time, it’s real.

  “How are you feeling?” Lue asks. We’re on the porch of my house. Cindy stands on one side, May Li on the other. I’m just home from the hospital. Turns out my hand didn’t break, but I did break two fingers.

  “I’ll be better when I can get back to the dojo.”

  “You sure do love to fight,” May Li says.

  “No, it’s what I do,” I say. “MMA is my symphony.”

  “Well what about your brother?” she asks. This is the first time we’ve talked since my graduation party. Just like with Meghan, I decide to tell her everything, even with the audience.

  I end by saying, “You see, that wasn’t a fight—it was payback.”

  “But it doesn’t change the past,” she says. “It’s not like I can go back and stop my sisters from making fun of me. If you think this makes everything better, Nong, it doesn’t.”

  “This wasn’t just about the past,” I say. “It was about Bao’s future. Somebody had to protect him. Nobody stepped in to protect me. I wasn’t going to let the past repeat itself with Bao.”

  “Why you?” Lue asks.

  “Because I am the Ninja Warrior!” I say, and people laugh. I said the wrong thing, though—I should have said, because I was the Ninja Warrior.

  When I sit down for Saturday dinner with my parents, we talk about my amateur fight. If we don’t talk about the fight with Ywj, then it’s like it never happened. If it never happened, then we don’t need to talk about the reason for the fight. If we don’t talk about the reason, then Mom and Dad don’t have to admit it was wrong to let Ywj bully Tha, who bullied Vam, who all bullied me.

  “How did you know when to try for a submission hold?” Dad asks.

  “All those hours of training at the dojo,” I explain. “And good coaches.”

  Dad keeps asking questions, which is not something he normally does, and he seems really interested in my answers. Mom plays along, but mostly she lets Dad talk. Per usual.

  “So, do you think that’s what you want to do?” Mom says. Dad frowns at her.

  “I can always go to college, maybe part-time, but yes, this is what I want.”

  My parents look at each other, their eyes moving but their mouths dormant. Dad lights up a smoke and leans back in his chair like some king on a throne. “OK,” he says.

  “KO,” I mumble, amazed, and then ask to be excused from the table.

  “Where are you going?” Mom asks.

  “On a date with May Li.”

  “The girl that used to tutor you?” Mom asks.

  “Yeah. I think I still have a lot to learn,” I say with a smile.

  I’m only upstairs a few minutes before Dad calls for me to come back into the kitchen. When I arrive, Kia and Bao stand there. They’ve both been crying.

  “We’re going back to St. Paul,” Kia says and holds Bao closer.

  “Is Ywj going with you?” Mom asks.

  A loud silence overtakes the room. Kia pulls Bao closer to her and shakes he
r head no.

  “I’ll miss you, Uncle Ninja Warrior,” Bao says, racing toward me.

  “If you leave, Mighty Bao, then who will wrestle with me?” I ask everyone.

  “Maybe May Li,” Dad says, laughing. In my dreams, I think, in my dreams.

  I bend down so Bao and I are the same size as he whispers, “Thank you, Uncle Ninja Warrior.” I don’t correct him as I hug him good-bye.

  “No, Lue, do it like this,” I say and then show, as best as I can with two broken fingers, how to escape a rear naked choke. “Do you understand?”

  “I think so,” he answers.

  “Not good enough to think, you have to know it,” I say. I’m speaking to him, but also to other students in the teen class. Since I can’t train, Mr. Hodge and Mr. Matsuda asked me if I could help with their summer classes, when they have more students. “You have to learn all of these holds and counter holds so they become instinct. Do you understand?”

  There’s lots of head nodding from the new fish.

  “Okay, let’s do a takedown drill.” The students pair up and I give them instructions. I yell start, and they begin to practice takedowns and counters to takedown. I circle the students and give some pointers. I talk to most students once, but I focus more on Lue. He’s an athlete. With more training, he could turn pro and become an MMA champion.

  “Nong, over here please,” Mr. Hodge yells.

  I jog over to Mr. Hodge, who stands by his office. “When do you think you’ll be ready to train again?” Mr. Matsuda stands next to him. Both of them have their arms crossed.

  “The doctor said maybe in about six weeks it will be healed, but I can train now.”

  “Not with broken fingers you can’t,” Mr. Matsuda says.

  “Well, this kind of training. Helping other students,” I explain. When I help out with the students, I try to model May Li and how she tutored me. It was as much about building my confidence and fighting my fears as it was about understanding the material.