Natalie Portman versus Cheryl Cole
Aug 28, 2022 11:51:01 GMT -6
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Post by Lookout! Boxing on Aug 28, 2022 11:51:01 GMT -6
Natalie Portman vs. Cheryl Cole
(Hawkeye International vs. Lioness Club
Natalie: 41 yo, 5’3” 95-54-2 with 60 KOs vs Cheryl: 39 yo, 5’3”, 47-15 with 47 KOs
Results: Lookout. Story: Hawkeye
NATALIE PORTMAN
CHERYL COLE
BEFORE: Both veteran brunettes looking for validation against the other as part of outstanding 2022 performances thus far. Cheryl’s on a six-match winning streak against competition not quite reaching the level of the Hall of Famer. The British beauty has pummeled all comers, including repping the LCA well in wins at the Lioness 10th American anniversary and at Worlds Collide. Already in the Top Ten, Cole can really push the issue of receiving a title tilt if she can best the current champ’s stablemate.
“I hear the whispers. Who has she beat?” Cheryl admits in front of the pre-match presser. “Fact is. They’ll probably say it after I beat Portman to a pulp as far as she’s removed from her glory days. Still, I’m kicking the ass of the people put in front of me and I’ll do it in this too.”
After some time off early in the year to finish some Thor shooting, the FCBA’s only Harvard graduate has strung three Ws together, the last being her most impressive with a 5th round KO of up-n-comer Cree Cicchino. Cole presents a very different challenge than the rookie. In many ways, Cheryl’s an anglicized mirror image of Natalie and Portman’s excited for the Top Ten tester.
“Does she have my track record? No,” Nat informs the media pre-fight. “Has she earned her spot near the top of the table and will she make me work for a win? Of course. I’m not taking this match because it’s easy. If I’m proving I have one more title run left in me, I have to lay out fighters like Cree and Cheryl. And I will.”
Cheryl going dead red with her gear tonight, showing off her athletic frame in a red bikini set, pads and gloves the same scarlet hue.
Natalie sporting the Consortium’s iconic black and gold, the flyweight icon sporting a tight goldenrod yellow tanktop and black boy-cut trunks. Pads and gloves in the dark shade as well.
R1: Risking perfect records for 2022’s calendar, both brunettes are cautious out of the gate, veterans feeling for each other with carefully placed jabs and staunch defenses. Natalie’s more active on the ‘O’, searching for openings as she pik-peks her left into Cole’s chest. Portman’s bring her ‘sweet scientist’ reputation to bear, using angles to find flanks and belly to batter. Nat’s discovering Cheryl stubborn though. She’s having to work hard for limited results and Cole’s not without responses, the Brit’s left also working ‘The Mighty’ Natalie’s movie-bulked frame. The more leather thrown the more comfortable each long-timer becomes, the strikes becoming more fluid as the round progresses. Still, this is more chess match than brutal Cicchino barroom brawl and few can match Natalie when it’s so focused. Cheryl starts lagging and Nat’s adding follow-up rights to her arsenal late, snapping the Brit’s head with a couple crosses to the jaw Cole shrugs off with a grimace. But their points on the Yank’s ledger and Nat takes the initial stanza in a close one.
R2: More of the same to start the second, though Cheryl’s turning up the heat on her more acclaimed counterpart. Neither fighter is throwing wildly, but Cole seems to have detected a pattern. Her jabs are better timed this round, Cheryl touching leather to chin and beak on a regular basis with pesky jabs. Natalie’s frustrated if not flustered. Her movement slows as she tries to change things up and go toe to toe. Suits the Brit. Cole’s breaking through, taking chest with blistering efficiency against an overeager Portman. When the Ivy Leaguer’s head and defenses lower, Cheryl snaps the American’s noggin with a potent uppercut to the chin, drawing tonight’s first ‘oooh’ from the crowd. Nat tries to cut any momentum, retreating when she can. Looking a bit buzzed, Nat’s getting grabby and she slows Cheryl’s consolidation like only a veteran can, the ref constantly breaking the duo apart, finally admonishing Portman. Nat mostly ignores the official and when Cheryl loses her concentration in the slightest, Portman’s there to land a heavy-handed combo before the bell. It’s not enough to steal the 2nd, but it closes the gap on Cole’s point haul to a close 10-9.
R3: There’s more than a little anger in Cheryl’s features as she’s off her chair quickly, making a beeline for Portman. Natalie wheels around the ring, making Cole chase if she wants to take out her annoyance on the Harvard grad. There’s less caution in the Brit’s stride and she hums a couple hefty rights to Natalie’s ribs with Portman’s guard raised. When the Hall of Famer responds, reflexively lowering a chickenwing to cover her ribcage, Cheryl’s headhunting, loading up a right, using the award winner’s beauty mark mole as a bullseye on her left cheek. But a quick dip-n-dodge produces a swing and miss and leaves Cheryl off-balance for Nat’s southpaw reprisal. And it’s got some juice. Portman’s left cross thunks into the Brit’s jaw, spinning her body to catch up with her braincase. Cheryl’s walking in fencepost holes as she staggers away from the feisty Portman. Dinner bell rung for Natalie. As Cheryl regains her poise, it’s put to immediate test, Nat taking jugg greedily with both fists, pounding Cole into a corner. And Nat takes more. Lifting her potshots to eye-level, the tempest-tossed Englishwoman is battered to cheek and chin. Cole’s looking a bit tipsy by the end, but she survives to the bell. The ref wedges between and Cole adds a shove to get Nat off. Bad blood is brewing as Natalie takes the third wide.
R4: Perhaps bad blood is what the boisterous Brit needed. She looks a new woman after a stern Lioness talking-to. Cole sets upon a wide-eyed Portman before Nat gets more than a couple steps out of her corner. Caught off-guard is not a good look for the cerebral Natalie and Cheryl lights up her foe from the get-go. Cole pounds Natalie back into the corner with blasts to the bosom. The Brit stuffs her forehead into Portman’s clavicle and swabs gut-churning combos into Nat’s taut tummy. No amount of crunches can counter this tummy-taking. Portman tries to clinch but Cheryl’s stooped stance makes it difficult. Meanwhile, Cole is abusing abs and Natalie is gurgling and groaning. A suddenly worried Mishy screams at her longtime teammate to get out of the corner, but Cole isn’t allowing it. She continues to ravage abs, leaving Portman bruised and breathless. Finally, Nat seeps out of the trap along the ropes and gets on her hunched horse, though her movement is stunted by a roiling abdomen. Cheryl’s a big game hunter now, lifting her sights to the pained mug of the Ivy Leaguer. Cole eats a few jabs on her approach but gobbles up Natalie with a couple noggin-twisting right overhands that leave Natalie dancing like she’s had a few too many. A weary Cole consolidates late, her arms heavy from lashing Portman around the ring. It’s a wide win for Cheryl, a few late connections from Nat keeping it out of shutout territory.
R5: Both pretty pugilists are slow out of their corners, each spent for very different reasons. Natalie remains slumped if moving slightly better, her midriff mottled with bruises. Cheryl appears arm-weary, her guns down near her sides. She lifts as she closes but the aggression ratio is dialed down, Natalie and Cheryl seemingly happy to give their bodies some recovery time, as well as the crowd’s lungs. As the clock ticks to the last minute, the dark-haired warriors are each looking more themselves, ready with a flashing jab to test for weakness. Cole takes chest and Natalie chin, but most blows are glancing, and each seems satisfied to build her energy stores for the back half of what’s becoming a titanic tilt. No surprise when the round comes back a draw.
R6: Like toward the end of the previous round, both wily vets seem reenergized for statement-making. Cheryl’s aggression is a sight. She’s completely confident in her space now and is lathering Portman early. Natalie’s absorbing as best she can, but she’s accumulating impacts too fast, and her legs give a shimmy. The crowd picks up on the tremor and their tenor changes. Cole has Natalie stationary and it’s working against the American. Cheryl’s picking her shots carefully and, unfortunately for the Consortium, accurately, with plenty of oomph behind them. The Brit’s more than ready to pile on and ups her rate, throwing defense to the wind to break Portman down. And it’s working. Until it doesn’t. Nat times a counter left to Cole’s jaw and cue a nasty head swivel. Cheryl chases after her clouted cranium with a wobbly frame and Natalie turns predator in an instant. She bullies Cole into the ropes and plunders the Englishwoman, opening up with flexing biceps that send heavy leather to Cheryl’s face. Cole is collapsing into a shell, eventually sitting on the middle rope, when Natalie PLOWS a right uppercut into her foe’s chin. The wicked whiplash is evidence of Cole’s light switch being flipped to the ‘off’ position. COLE KEELS TO HER SIDE…EATING CANVAS. Cheryl spreads to a face down starfish as Portman hustles to neutral, thumping her gloves together, refusing to celebrate early. But there’s no worry here. Cole twitches out the ten-count. And that’s it. NATALIE PORTMAN WINS VIA KO6!
AFTER: As Cheryl is administered a healthy dose of smelling salts, Nat has her gloves removed and shares high-fives with Mishy and Dove. She takes a half-step through the ropes then shakes her head. NAH. SHE WANTS SOME!
Nat pushes through the attendants and presses a wobbly Cheryl tight to the loser’s corner. A sniffling Cole presses at Portman’s hips as Natalie climbs to the bottom strands on either side of the corner, but there’s no denying the Ivy Leaguer. Portmanfeeds her dappled abdomen to the Englishwoman.
“You wanted my abs so bad,” Natalie grunts, doused in perspiration. “Have a taste!”
Portman applies a classic Consortium belly rub, the victor scrubbing and smothering with her taut midriff until Cheryl’s face slides down Portman’s frame, Cheryl ending in a semi-conscious pool. On her haunches, she leans heavily into the corner.
Natalie seeks out the nearest lens.
“I know Dove needs to clear out more of the division before I get a shot, so Dove, you’re looking at your biggest fan and then your biggest threat.”
(Hawkeye International vs. Lioness Club
Natalie: 41 yo, 5’3” 95-54-2 with 60 KOs vs Cheryl: 39 yo, 5’3”, 47-15 with 47 KOs
Results: Lookout. Story: Hawkeye
NATALIE PORTMAN
CHERYL COLE
BEFORE: Both veteran brunettes looking for validation against the other as part of outstanding 2022 performances thus far. Cheryl’s on a six-match winning streak against competition not quite reaching the level of the Hall of Famer. The British beauty has pummeled all comers, including repping the LCA well in wins at the Lioness 10th American anniversary and at Worlds Collide. Already in the Top Ten, Cole can really push the issue of receiving a title tilt if she can best the current champ’s stablemate.
“I hear the whispers. Who has she beat?” Cheryl admits in front of the pre-match presser. “Fact is. They’ll probably say it after I beat Portman to a pulp as far as she’s removed from her glory days. Still, I’m kicking the ass of the people put in front of me and I’ll do it in this too.”
After some time off early in the year to finish some Thor shooting, the FCBA’s only Harvard graduate has strung three Ws together, the last being her most impressive with a 5th round KO of up-n-comer Cree Cicchino. Cole presents a very different challenge than the rookie. In many ways, Cheryl’s an anglicized mirror image of Natalie and Portman’s excited for the Top Ten tester.
“Does she have my track record? No,” Nat informs the media pre-fight. “Has she earned her spot near the top of the table and will she make me work for a win? Of course. I’m not taking this match because it’s easy. If I’m proving I have one more title run left in me, I have to lay out fighters like Cree and Cheryl. And I will.”
Cheryl going dead red with her gear tonight, showing off her athletic frame in a red bikini set, pads and gloves the same scarlet hue.
Natalie sporting the Consortium’s iconic black and gold, the flyweight icon sporting a tight goldenrod yellow tanktop and black boy-cut trunks. Pads and gloves in the dark shade as well.
R1: Risking perfect records for 2022’s calendar, both brunettes are cautious out of the gate, veterans feeling for each other with carefully placed jabs and staunch defenses. Natalie’s more active on the ‘O’, searching for openings as she pik-peks her left into Cole’s chest. Portman’s bring her ‘sweet scientist’ reputation to bear, using angles to find flanks and belly to batter. Nat’s discovering Cheryl stubborn though. She’s having to work hard for limited results and Cole’s not without responses, the Brit’s left also working ‘The Mighty’ Natalie’s movie-bulked frame. The more leather thrown the more comfortable each long-timer becomes, the strikes becoming more fluid as the round progresses. Still, this is more chess match than brutal Cicchino barroom brawl and few can match Natalie when it’s so focused. Cheryl starts lagging and Nat’s adding follow-up rights to her arsenal late, snapping the Brit’s head with a couple crosses to the jaw Cole shrugs off with a grimace. But their points on the Yank’s ledger and Nat takes the initial stanza in a close one.
R2: More of the same to start the second, though Cheryl’s turning up the heat on her more acclaimed counterpart. Neither fighter is throwing wildly, but Cole seems to have detected a pattern. Her jabs are better timed this round, Cheryl touching leather to chin and beak on a regular basis with pesky jabs. Natalie’s frustrated if not flustered. Her movement slows as she tries to change things up and go toe to toe. Suits the Brit. Cole’s breaking through, taking chest with blistering efficiency against an overeager Portman. When the Ivy Leaguer’s head and defenses lower, Cheryl snaps the American’s noggin with a potent uppercut to the chin, drawing tonight’s first ‘oooh’ from the crowd. Nat tries to cut any momentum, retreating when she can. Looking a bit buzzed, Nat’s getting grabby and she slows Cheryl’s consolidation like only a veteran can, the ref constantly breaking the duo apart, finally admonishing Portman. Nat mostly ignores the official and when Cheryl loses her concentration in the slightest, Portman’s there to land a heavy-handed combo before the bell. It’s not enough to steal the 2nd, but it closes the gap on Cole’s point haul to a close 10-9.
R3: There’s more than a little anger in Cheryl’s features as she’s off her chair quickly, making a beeline for Portman. Natalie wheels around the ring, making Cole chase if she wants to take out her annoyance on the Harvard grad. There’s less caution in the Brit’s stride and she hums a couple hefty rights to Natalie’s ribs with Portman’s guard raised. When the Hall of Famer responds, reflexively lowering a chickenwing to cover her ribcage, Cheryl’s headhunting, loading up a right, using the award winner’s beauty mark mole as a bullseye on her left cheek. But a quick dip-n-dodge produces a swing and miss and leaves Cheryl off-balance for Nat’s southpaw reprisal. And it’s got some juice. Portman’s left cross thunks into the Brit’s jaw, spinning her body to catch up with her braincase. Cheryl’s walking in fencepost holes as she staggers away from the feisty Portman. Dinner bell rung for Natalie. As Cheryl regains her poise, it’s put to immediate test, Nat taking jugg greedily with both fists, pounding Cole into a corner. And Nat takes more. Lifting her potshots to eye-level, the tempest-tossed Englishwoman is battered to cheek and chin. Cole’s looking a bit tipsy by the end, but she survives to the bell. The ref wedges between and Cole adds a shove to get Nat off. Bad blood is brewing as Natalie takes the third wide.
R4: Perhaps bad blood is what the boisterous Brit needed. She looks a new woman after a stern Lioness talking-to. Cole sets upon a wide-eyed Portman before Nat gets more than a couple steps out of her corner. Caught off-guard is not a good look for the cerebral Natalie and Cheryl lights up her foe from the get-go. Cole pounds Natalie back into the corner with blasts to the bosom. The Brit stuffs her forehead into Portman’s clavicle and swabs gut-churning combos into Nat’s taut tummy. No amount of crunches can counter this tummy-taking. Portman tries to clinch but Cheryl’s stooped stance makes it difficult. Meanwhile, Cole is abusing abs and Natalie is gurgling and groaning. A suddenly worried Mishy screams at her longtime teammate to get out of the corner, but Cole isn’t allowing it. She continues to ravage abs, leaving Portman bruised and breathless. Finally, Nat seeps out of the trap along the ropes and gets on her hunched horse, though her movement is stunted by a roiling abdomen. Cheryl’s a big game hunter now, lifting her sights to the pained mug of the Ivy Leaguer. Cole eats a few jabs on her approach but gobbles up Natalie with a couple noggin-twisting right overhands that leave Natalie dancing like she’s had a few too many. A weary Cole consolidates late, her arms heavy from lashing Portman around the ring. It’s a wide win for Cheryl, a few late connections from Nat keeping it out of shutout territory.
R5: Both pretty pugilists are slow out of their corners, each spent for very different reasons. Natalie remains slumped if moving slightly better, her midriff mottled with bruises. Cheryl appears arm-weary, her guns down near her sides. She lifts as she closes but the aggression ratio is dialed down, Natalie and Cheryl seemingly happy to give their bodies some recovery time, as well as the crowd’s lungs. As the clock ticks to the last minute, the dark-haired warriors are each looking more themselves, ready with a flashing jab to test for weakness. Cole takes chest and Natalie chin, but most blows are glancing, and each seems satisfied to build her energy stores for the back half of what’s becoming a titanic tilt. No surprise when the round comes back a draw.
R6: Like toward the end of the previous round, both wily vets seem reenergized for statement-making. Cheryl’s aggression is a sight. She’s completely confident in her space now and is lathering Portman early. Natalie’s absorbing as best she can, but she’s accumulating impacts too fast, and her legs give a shimmy. The crowd picks up on the tremor and their tenor changes. Cole has Natalie stationary and it’s working against the American. Cheryl’s picking her shots carefully and, unfortunately for the Consortium, accurately, with plenty of oomph behind them. The Brit’s more than ready to pile on and ups her rate, throwing defense to the wind to break Portman down. And it’s working. Until it doesn’t. Nat times a counter left to Cole’s jaw and cue a nasty head swivel. Cheryl chases after her clouted cranium with a wobbly frame and Natalie turns predator in an instant. She bullies Cole into the ropes and plunders the Englishwoman, opening up with flexing biceps that send heavy leather to Cheryl’s face. Cole is collapsing into a shell, eventually sitting on the middle rope, when Natalie PLOWS a right uppercut into her foe’s chin. The wicked whiplash is evidence of Cole’s light switch being flipped to the ‘off’ position. COLE KEELS TO HER SIDE…EATING CANVAS. Cheryl spreads to a face down starfish as Portman hustles to neutral, thumping her gloves together, refusing to celebrate early. But there’s no worry here. Cole twitches out the ten-count. And that’s it. NATALIE PORTMAN WINS VIA KO6!
AFTER: As Cheryl is administered a healthy dose of smelling salts, Nat has her gloves removed and shares high-fives with Mishy and Dove. She takes a half-step through the ropes then shakes her head. NAH. SHE WANTS SOME!
Nat pushes through the attendants and presses a wobbly Cheryl tight to the loser’s corner. A sniffling Cole presses at Portman’s hips as Natalie climbs to the bottom strands on either side of the corner, but there’s no denying the Ivy Leaguer. Portmanfeeds her dappled abdomen to the Englishwoman.
“You wanted my abs so bad,” Natalie grunts, doused in perspiration. “Have a taste!”
Portman applies a classic Consortium belly rub, the victor scrubbing and smothering with her taut midriff until Cheryl’s face slides down Portman’s frame, Cheryl ending in a semi-conscious pool. On her haunches, she leans heavily into the corner.
Natalie seeks out the nearest lens.
“I know Dove needs to clear out more of the division before I get a shot, so Dove, you’re looking at your biggest fan and then your biggest threat.”
