Live By the Game Plan, Die By the Game Plan

Coach called—screaming at the top of his lungs, actually—for a takedown. 

The openings were a crack, at best, and he lost more of his nerve with every passing second. Coach charged him with optimism between rounds, reviewing all the bullet points of their game plan: close the distance, avoid strikes on the way in, slam the opponent to the mat, and smash this dude’s imprint into the canvas. 

Early in the middle frame, he discovered the opening he was searching for—or so he thought. 

He changed levels; therein, everything became peaceful: the crowd’s noise muffled, the tension in his muscles relaxed, and he disappeared into his own world. As he began recovering his senses, coach had his fighter’s head cradled in his giant palm and shared his romantic hope of embracing victory had ended, punctuated by a flying knee. 

Prompted from Six Sentence Story Word Prompt at:

Prompted from Fandango’s One Word Challenge at:

Prompted from Your Daily Word Prompt at:

Prompted from Word of the Day Challenge at:

Prompted from Three Things Challenge at:


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