Search found 1 match for BasicEducation

EuroBash 2021 - England Vs Italy

Adele was banging her head into the side of her locker. She had been doing this for the past five minutes. A curious thing to do minutes before she had to make the walk to the ring. Some sort of Italian pre-match ritual? She'd boxed dozens of opponents from countries far and wide. She'd bled more times than she could count and never flinched once. What could be brewing in the newcomer's mind? Anxiety? Regret? Doubt?

"Bringforget...Bringforget?" A spelling mistake. The ultimate mark of shame. Irredeemable. Adele pulled her phone back up and glanced at her tweet for the thirteenth time this past two minutes. "So stupid. Stupido. Billion-dollar companies and they can't install spellchecks."

Two days in and her name was still at the top of #BasicEducation.

Okay, enough of this. She had to focus. Adele stood up and took a deep breath, letting the air flow free from her lungs in a steady stream of calm. Her shoulders relaxed and her posture straightened. Then the memory came back and she punched her locker one last time. She shut her phone off and threw it into her locker with a slam before she started strapping her gloves on.

Her nerves were higher than she was expecting. This wasn't how she was expecting to make her debut. Not in this context. She would be okay with the prospect of losing normally. It had happened before and likely would again before Adele was done. Losing here, to this woman, was not a thought she was willing to entertain much longer. For the first time, it wasn't even a matter of pride. It was something that the Italian had to do to be right in her mind. To look herself in the mirror and not have Nicky looking back at her reflection. Her family was going to be watching tonight. They didn't say that but she knew. She had to expect it.

Papa was right. She should have stayed off social media.

Adele turned her eyes to the screen up in the room's corner as her opponent entered to little pomp and fanfare. She hadn't seen the woman until this moment. The Italian would have laughed with how close her expectations met reality, seeing the Brit head to toe in her national colors. Adele was following a similar trend, but she thought the cape was a little much. At a closer glance, however, the Italian could see toned etchings along her arms and over her bare stomach. Her form was right and her eyes were focused. Nicky walked like a fighter and that alone put a knot in Adele's stomach.

A knock at the door snapped her out of her daze. It was time to go. The plucky Anzioan took another breath of air. The nerves were good in hindsight. It meant she wouldn't do anything stupid. She wouldn't embarrass herself further and she would make sure her proud crybaby got the fight she deserved. She stepped through the doorway and strode down the hall.

Theme of Italy:

Adele Montessori:

Adele marched out with her music at her back and the roar of a massive crowd on all sides. Like with her opponent, the audience seemed evenly split on their opinions as they praised and booed her name. Japanese audiences probably didn't care for the international squabbling they had on Twitter as much as Europeans might have, but plenty of them had seemed to select their favorites for the night. There were two camps as far as Adele was concerned: those that preferred skill, sportsmanship, and grace; and those that preferred dumb blondes. Tonight's performance could swing either way.

Adele walked the steel steps into the ring and stepped through the ropes. She raised a glove high into the air and welcomed the applause, but her face didn't speak of gratitude. Her eyes had almost immediately found her British adversary and hadn't shifted once. She said nothing from her corner. Her eyes only cast a thinly-veiled shadow masquerading malevolence towards the petite blonde on the opposite end of the ring. Adele bounced up and down on the spot, loosening herself up and waiting to be called to the center while she thought of what she would say when she got up there.