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#1 Ranked Flyweight Lizzy Field understood the theory behind tonight's match. She'd studied footage of her opponent and sparred about a million rounds with her school's best grapplers. She understood the way her opponent, Jet Pope, liked to circle to the left while gauging the distance and the limp left jab she used to clog the air like static. By all accounts Jet was short and patient during the standup, preferring to save her energy for frantic scrambles and grappling exchanges. Jet had a heavy right hand but that was the only punch she threw worth worrying over. Lizzy should have ample time to establish the range, get her feet under her, and pick this shortstack apart with her signature kicks before Jet ever got comfortable enough to reach out and grapple.

Should have.

What the accomplished, undefeated senior didn't expect was for the 3rd year University of North Carolina prospect to come out of her corner like her hair was on fire. She didn't expect Jet's 'limp' left jab to make her eyes water when eat two of them, and she certainly didn't expect the shorter, younger fighter to time Lizzy's round kick and detonate that bomb of a right hand directly on her jaw less than 30 seconds into the match. No, those nasty little surprises were unplanned and undesired, and as Lizzy stumbled backwards into the cold metal fence behind her, she wondered if *she* was going to be the first knockout victim tonight. The punch wobbled her and she knew immediately that she was in danger. She kept just enough of her wits about her to be annoyed. She was the striker here, the one with the Tae Kwon Do background and the highlight KOs. That's how tonight was supposed to go.

But supposed to didn't mean much when her legs were wobbly and the ref circled warily. All she could do was survive and give the referee a reason to let her keep fighting. So with one knee on the floor she pitched forward. A desperate dive, but that would have to be enough. There were no style points to be found if you got starched in the first round.

Survival was the only option left.

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#1 Ranked Flyweight Lizzy Field understood the theory behind tonight's match. She'd studied footage of her opponent and sparred about a million rounds with her school's best grapplers. She understood the way her opponent, Jet Pope, liked to circle to the left while gauging the distance and the limp left jab she used to clog the air like static. By all accounts Jet was short and patient during the standup, preferring to save her energy for frantic scrambles and grappling exchanges. Jet had a heavy right hand but that was the only punch she threw worth worrying over. Lizzy should have ample time to establish the range, get her feet under her, and pick this shortstack apart with her signature kicks before Jet ever got comfortable enough to reach out and grapple.

Should have.

What the accomplished, undefeated senior didn't expect was for the 3rd year University of North Carolina prospect to come out of her corner like her hair was on fire. She didn't expect Jet's 'limp' left jab to make her eyes water when eat two of them, and she certainly didn't expect the shorter, younger fighter to time Lizzy's round kick and detonate that bomb of a right hand directly on her jaw less than 30 seconds into the match. No, those nasty little surprises were unplanned and undesired, and as Lizzy stumbled backwards into the cold metal fence behind her, she wondered if *she* was going to be the first knockout victim tonight. The punch wobbled her and she knew immediately that she was in danger. She kept just enough of her wits about her to be annoyed. She was the striker here, the one with the Tae Kwon Do background and the highlight KOs. That's how tonight was supposed to go.

But supposed to didn't mean much when her legs were wobbly and the ref circled warily. All she could do was survive and give the referee a reason to let her keep fighting. So with one knee on the floor she pitched forward. A desperate dive, but that would have to be enough. There were no style points to be found if you got starched in the first round.

Survival was the only option left.