MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

Damon arrived pretty quickly at the motel, maybe he was too happy to notice the distance.

The taxi ride had flown by in a blur, and before he knew it, he was standing outside the motel, paying the fare.

As he handed over the money, he couldn't help but think back to that kid, Matthew.

The little boy's words of admiration had left a warm feeling in his chest, and he couldn't help but smile as he remembered the encounter.

It felt good to have someone tell you you're great, even if it was a child.

But somehow, it felt even more meaningful coming from a kid.

Maybe it was because children were always honest, or maybe it was because they looked up to you with such wide eyes and innocent faces.

But as he walked towards the motel room, he also felt a sense of obligation creeping in.

He couldn't let that kid down, not now that he had been told he was someone's hero.

He couldn't let Mr. Steele down, not after all the faith he had placed in him or the investment he would make.

He couldn't let his mother down, not after all they had been through together.

And last but not least, he couldn't let himself down.

The pressure was mounting, and Damon could feel the weight of expectation settling on his shoulders.

His own expectations.

He took a deep breath, trying to shake off the feeling of responsibility.

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He loved what he was doing, and he didn't want to look at it as an obligation or a burden.

He wanted to enjoy the journey, to savor the moments of victory, and learn from the moments of defeat.

He was about to open the door, but paused on the handle.

His mind suddenly flashed back to Mr. Steele's question, "Why do you fight?" He had tried to answer, saying that he wanted to provide for his family, but Mr. Steele hadn't accepted that answer.

Now, standing outside his motel room, Damon felt like he had finally found the truth.

He thought about the rush of adrenaline he felt when he stepped into the cage, the roar of the crowd, the thrill of victory. He thought about the sweat, the blood, the tears.

He thought about the pain, the exhaustion, the elation. And in that moment, he knew. He liked the fight. He loved the fight.

A slow smile spread across his face as he realized the truth.

It wasn't just about providing for his family, or making a name for himself. It was about the fight itself.

Understanding the beauty and enjoyment within a fight.

He entered the motel room, and was immediately attacked by the scent of good food.

His stomach growled in anticipation as he closed the door behind him.

He looked around the room, and his eyes landed on his mom who was cooking on the stove they had purchased last time.

"Mom, I'm back!" Damon called out, a wide smile still plastered on his face.

Aoife looked up from the stove, and the moment she saw Damon's bright smile, she knew.

Mothers always knew when something was up with their children.

"I knew you could do it!" she exclaimed, a warm smile spreading across her face. She lowered the temperature on the stove and walked towards Damon, holding out her hands.

"What?" Damon was confused, unsure what she was referring to.

"Do you think I forgot? You told me that this is the fight you've been waiting for," she said, her eyes sparkling with pride. Damon's expression changed from confusion to surprise.

Damon looked at his mom, and saw the sincerity in her eyes. She was genuinely proud of him, and it felt amazing.

"Wait, you want to hear about my fight?" Damon asked, still in disbelief. Aoife nodded enthusiastically, her hands still holding his.

"Yes, I do! I want to know everything. What was it like?" Her voice was filled with excitement, and Damon couldn't help but feel a sense of joy.

Damon looked at his mom's eyes, searching for any sign of insincerity.

But all he saw was genuine curiosity, a desire to know more about her son's life.

And so he did, Damon began, painting an image for his mother, who listened intently.

He told her about every round, every punch, every kick, and every moment of doubt.

His mother listened, her eyes sparkling with excitement, as she moved between the stove and the table, checking on the food and nodding along to Damon's story.

As Damon spoke, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders.

He had never shared his fighting experiences with anyone before, not like this.

Joey had gone to LA, and he didn't have friends to talk to about his fights.

He had always kept his emotions and thoughts locked away, but now, with his mother, he felt like he could finally open up.

His mother asked questions, "What was going through your mind in the second round?" or "How did you feel when the judges announced your win?"

Damon rolled his eyes, a playful smile spreading across his face. "Well, mom, you're starting to sound like a reporter now," he teased, chuckling at his mom's enthusiastic questioning.

Aoife laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, you're going to be talking to them in the future, so I'm prepping you," she joked, winking at her son.

"You know, so you don't stutter," she added, her voice filled with mock seriousness.

Damon laughed, feeling a sense of comfort and familiarity with his mom's playful banter. "Okay, mom," he said, standing up from the table.

He stretched his arms above his head, feeling a sense of relaxation wash over him. "I need a shower," he announced, making his way towards the bathroom. "I'll be right back," he called out, disappearing into the bathroom.

Aoife nodded, watching her son disappear into the bathroom.

She then looked at the door, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Didn't you say you always shower at that place?" she mumbled to herself, her brow furrowed in confusion.

She shook her head and went back into cooking.

As she finished cooking, Aoife leaned against the wall, her eyes gazing out the window.

She thought about what she did today, and a small sigh escaped her lips.

She had always been hesitant to talk about fights, to discuss the details of Damon's fights.

The memories of her own past, the trauma she had endured, still lingered.

But today was different. Today, she had felt a sense of joy, of connection with her son.

She wanted to share such moments with Damon, to be a part of his life, to show him that she cared.

Her trauma was a small sacrifice, she told herself, if it meant she could be there for her son.

She knew Damon was growing, maturing, and soon he would be making his own way in the world.

Who knew when he would find a beautiful girl, and they would run off to who knows where?

She liked the idea of Damon starting her own life, so she wanted to enjoy the moments they had now.