From a swing set across the street from the Arena Building, Nathan Stearns watched the crowd gather for fight night. He said he wasn't nervous, and in fact seemed as calm as the Buddha he wore on a cord around his neck. He'd fought plenty before, but this night was different. This night, his bout with Brian Brooks was the main event. And this night, for the first time in his life, the 23-year-old would be fighting as a professional.
The dream started to feel real about five weeks previously when he'd inked a contract before a training session at Peak Performance training center in Cape Girardeau. His training partners, some of whom would also be fighting on the amateur card of Cage of Honor 78, filmed the moment on cellphones or congratulated him. They'd seen the work he'd put in two or three nights a week for years. Stearns is commonly the last to leave the gym, mopping the mats after everyone else has gone home so that he can squeeze in a few more rounds of bag work.
Of course, the difference between ironclad dedication and willful stubbornness can be difficult to divine.
His mother, Kim, said that while her son's stubbornness is his defining trait, she admires how he's been able to wield it constructively. Stearns wasn't always an easy child to raise, she said. He was at times the subject of bullying and would get into trouble for fighting back. Once, when he was told he couldn't visit a friend's house to see a new litter of puppies, he ran away. Kim had to call the police, who later returned her willful son.
But Stearns' introduction to martial arts --- starting with wrestling --- she said provided a productive outlet for that energy and hardheadedness. She said she's not quite made her peace with the idea of her son fighting for a living, and as a mother might never get there. But she also said she's impressed by Nathan's ability to bootstrap his way to where he is today. Given his determination, she added, she's not surprised he's found a way to make it through the world on more or less his own terms.
And now, those personality traits are part of what compels him to rise most mornings at 2 a.m. and run the three miles from his parents' home, where he lives, to the Emerson Bridge and back before heading to his 4 a.m. shift at Hardees.
It also helped him power through the discomfort that came with his responsibility to sell tickets to the fight. It was the one part of fighting he seemed uneasy about.
"I know it's funny," he said, surveying the Blue Diamond pool hall on a Saturday night for possible fight fans to approach. "I'll fight anyone, but I'm not really comfortable approaching people like strangers."
Time after time, his sales pitch fell flat. That first night, he'd make only one sale, but as the weeks went on, he would sell several hundred dollars' worth; half of which went to him as a fighter.
The night before the fights, the fighters weighed in. Stearns stood out from the crowd, wearing a bright orange costume from his favorite anime, "Dragon Ball Z," from which he said he draws some inspiration.
"I spent like 54 bucks on this (costume)," he said, admitting that such an expense was extravagant given his current finances. "But I thought, hey, you only debut once. Y.O.D.O"
He stepped on the scale and was almost exactly one pound overweight. It was the costume. He peeled it off, made weight, and then apologized loudly while he put the costume back on. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said, hopping into the orange leggings while his opponent watched with an expression somewhere between impatience and confusion. "I'm sorry. This is just gonna happen real quick. It's just gonna happen."
The next night, once the show began, Stearns was back in the orange costume, mingling with the crowd, watching his teammates' bouts, and generally enjoying himself since his fight would be last. When the time came, he began his pre-fight routine with a few minutes of silent meditation and a chapter from "The Art of Peace," a book about wisdom and compassion in martial arts by the founder of Aikido.
Then it was time. Stearns bowed before entering the octagon, as he does before he steps on any mat, even in training. As the crowd cheered, he raised his arms in a gesture he said was meant to help draw in the positive energy of the crowd. Then he and Brooks touched gloves and started circling.
The first round seemed to go according to plan. Stearns knew his opponent would much prefer a grappling match, so he kept his feet, even when Brooks went down. Instead of jumping on top of him, Stearns bounced away. Between rounds, it was obvious Stearns was having a good time. His grin was enormous.
When the fight resumed, with Brooks backed up to the cage, Stearns sent a right fist to Brooks's abdomen, then a knee. Then, taking advantage of the more permissible professional guidelines, he brought two clean elbow shots crashing down on the top of his opponent's head, leaving a pair of bloody gashes. After that, the fight wrapped quickly. Stearns would move in, deliver a flurry of blows and ease back, sometimes glancing at the referee or nodding at Brooks to make sure the lights were still on. The match was clearly his, and even in the heat of the moment, Stearns looked reluctant to dole out unnecessary violence.
And then, in the third round, it was over. The announcer took to the octagon and validated the years of work and blood and sweat, naming Nathan Stearns an undefeated professional.
With the money he earned from the fight, Stearns bought a proper pair of running shoes to resume training.
"This is what I want to do," he said. "And I'm gonna do everything in my power to continue to do that."
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