Jarrett’s timing was perfect. He threw all his bodyweight into his right cross, his waist and shoulders turning into the punch, pivoting the momentum through the ball of his right foot. Chinedu’s guard was no where to be seen and Jarrett’s fist landed cleanly on the left side of his chin.
Jarrett watched as Chinedu’s head was snapped to the left, throwing sweat into the air. He was so preoccupied with whether or not Chinedu had been hurt that he didn’t see the large overhand right looking to connect with his temple. Jarrett’s split second reaction was to slip to his right.
His attempt to slip the punch was futile, Chinedu’s punch connecting with the side of his head. His whole body dropped to the canvas, his head resting against the material, he could smell the sweat. He could hear his coach making the count from outside the ring. He had to
