Post by Lookout! Boxing on Nov 27, 2022 12:09:10 GMT -6
Samara Weaving
vs Ana Taylor-Joy
Before: O&E in flux and Samara knows she’s under the microscope. “It’s clear I wasn’t the sand fighter we thought and hoped I was. But not even Front Street could complain about my record on the canvas, and I’m going to remind people that
I’m the grade of fighter that Anya keeps losing to!”
Anya the favored fighter here, and taking things in stride: “I don't know what Samara's beef with me is, but I'm a big, strong, skilled bantamweight. She's been listening to too many yes men and believing too many press clippings if she thinks she can step up against me."
Anya wearing a black sports bra with red trim, matching trunks, red gloves and boots, while her hair is in a ponytail. Samara in black bikini, hair loose and wild, black gloves
R1: Samara doing her li’l boom-boom thing, staying low, looking to palm-push, shoulder-bump her way inside and scrub Anya’s ribs. ATJ all over the map—stick and moving one moment—toe to toe the next, looping shots after that. Midway through, girls slugging away midring, trading hooks to chops: Weaving lands a SWEEPING right that has the crowd shouting “OH!” on sudden impact, Sam twisting all the way to her left, pulling the punch around, not even looking at Anya when it crashes home-poor blonde bug-eyed with hurt and driveninto the ropes. Weaving hard-hearted on follow up—getting her head on ATJ’s chest, pump-thrusting her arms back and forth: she’s going deliberately, tenaciously and outrageously to trunk, both mitts. Anya gurgling, sitting numb in the ropes, left arm across Samara’s back as Aussie mops up underneath—ref finally takes a hand after a plugging flurry of blows softens ATJ up proper, Weaving scolded like a school girl as the man holds her arms and wags his finger. Anya given time to recupe, Samara’s chest heaving, eyes blazing as she paces in the neutral corner, anxious to get back on.
R2; Anya tackles up hard, drives Samara into the O&E corner with a ring-rattling crash. ATJ pushes off, SCOURS Weaving with a deluge of clubbing lefts and rights--fists spanking and bouncing off blonde’s cuddly midriff, shoulder, biceps and skull, Samara grimacing, covering up--she’s on her heels, being bullied, stacked up and belted as Anya tucks in. Weaving showing signs of life down the stretch, standing her ground in spots, moving her hands--she’s starting to get right hands underneath and overhand rights around ATJ’s left ear. Both girls starting to show lethal stubby right hands in close, bodies in behind the blows, crowd reacting as chins are lifted by savage-looking pokes. Samara finally able to stack Anya up and push her back by the final moments, landing several hard swinging lefts and rights along the waist.
R3: Mouth on shoulder, bruising bump-and-slug--girls just taking turns nudging each other back, hooking offending tummies, tits and chins, looking for ripping right hands when there’s enough distance. Both laying in, arms crossed against bellies, shoulders used for leverage and bounce, both punching out of the crossed-arm rhythmic little bobs. Anya getting the better of it, backing Samara up fairly consistently, Aussie engaging in stoic battles all around the canvas, but firefights usually end with her giving ground, ATJ advancing.
R4: Samara ups her intensity level, starts to outwork Anya, Visually, these middle rounds virtually identical--girls pushing into each other, writhing for position, smuggling punches into pain-wracked guts or turning tight to chin, bodying up to smother the receipts. It’s ATJ stepping back now however, Weaving turning the tide, starting to ram the fight back down blonde’s throat. Anya with a zesty burst of lefts and rights to the stomach backs Samara off with a groan at the bell, but aussie the more consistent operator in the 4th.
R5: Samara with a good first minute, getting on Anya and scrubbing, but at the minute mark, blonde steps back and detonates a series of POUNDING rights and lefts against Weaving’s breadbasket as ATJ walks into them, shaking Aussie’s knees and forcing the fight’s first “I’m hurt” clinches. Samara bullied into the ropes and mauled, Anya using her shoulders and palms to brace, setting her feet, then hauling in brutal right hands amidships, leaving Weaving pasty-faced by the bell.
R6: Samara surging in, tackling, driving her girl to the ropes, then holding her down, fists constantly digging in trunk and tummy, or clubbing away head and shoulders, Anya sluggish, arms crossed, laying over on one side or the other, just trying to blunt the damage, hoping for exhaustion to take effect--but Aussie just keeps coming. Weaving the bully, beating Joy into a double-up swoon, then palming her upright, job of work to stack blonde up against the ropes, then work her over some more. Anya getting hit on the jaw and temples now as Samara breaks down the defences--blonde shabby, wilting, offering nothing back--she can’t keep her Aussie off. Then there’s the constant tousle rubbing, the shoulder-butts, the elbow-pushes, the body-pressing--it’s non-stop, just one girl going at another with everything she’s got, heaping on, plugging body with those murderous double and triple right hands. ATJ coming apart at the seams, not punching back, head lolling drowsily, torso sliding forward or to the sides--she’s limp, dazed with punishment, but nothing’s holding Weaving back. After the midway point, this thing becomes a dreadful beat-down, Samara able to catch Anya with tawdry hooks on the chops or beefy right hands square amidships, then simply prop her up for more. Finally, inevitably, Joy pools to canvas, mouth pouted open in abject surrender. Stunning KO6 for Samara Weaving.
After: Anya handed a dreadful pounding, made worse by slipshod refereeing that saw her mercilessly fouled and taking WAY too many punches when she was past the point of defending herself. Samara climbing ring ropes, bellowing to the crowd—crowd roaring back—everyone loves to see a savage beat down KO like this. “Why should I be sorry?” astonished Weaving answers a Tractorpull question in postfight. “She knew she couldn’t take me on the inside, she butted me, she worked my kidneys—she did every little cheap thing she could to keep me off. So when she went out on her feet, did I let up? Hell no. She had those punches coming.”
vs Ana Taylor-Joy
(Words: O & E /Results: Lookout!)
Before: O&E in flux and Samara knows she’s under the microscope. “It’s clear I wasn’t the sand fighter we thought and hoped I was. But not even Front Street could complain about my record on the canvas, and I’m going to remind people that
I’m the grade of fighter that Anya keeps losing to!”
Anya the favored fighter here, and taking things in stride: “I don't know what Samara's beef with me is, but I'm a big, strong, skilled bantamweight. She's been listening to too many yes men and believing too many press clippings if she thinks she can step up against me."
Anya wearing a black sports bra with red trim, matching trunks, red gloves and boots, while her hair is in a ponytail. Samara in black bikini, hair loose and wild, black gloves
R1: Samara doing her li’l boom-boom thing, staying low, looking to palm-push, shoulder-bump her way inside and scrub Anya’s ribs. ATJ all over the map—stick and moving one moment—toe to toe the next, looping shots after that. Midway through, girls slugging away midring, trading hooks to chops: Weaving lands a SWEEPING right that has the crowd shouting “OH!” on sudden impact, Sam twisting all the way to her left, pulling the punch around, not even looking at Anya when it crashes home-poor blonde bug-eyed with hurt and driveninto the ropes. Weaving hard-hearted on follow up—getting her head on ATJ’s chest, pump-thrusting her arms back and forth: she’s going deliberately, tenaciously and outrageously to trunk, both mitts. Anya gurgling, sitting numb in the ropes, left arm across Samara’s back as Aussie mops up underneath—ref finally takes a hand after a plugging flurry of blows softens ATJ up proper, Weaving scolded like a school girl as the man holds her arms and wags his finger. Anya given time to recupe, Samara’s chest heaving, eyes blazing as she paces in the neutral corner, anxious to get back on.
R2; Anya tackles up hard, drives Samara into the O&E corner with a ring-rattling crash. ATJ pushes off, SCOURS Weaving with a deluge of clubbing lefts and rights--fists spanking and bouncing off blonde’s cuddly midriff, shoulder, biceps and skull, Samara grimacing, covering up--she’s on her heels, being bullied, stacked up and belted as Anya tucks in. Weaving showing signs of life down the stretch, standing her ground in spots, moving her hands--she’s starting to get right hands underneath and overhand rights around ATJ’s left ear. Both girls starting to show lethal stubby right hands in close, bodies in behind the blows, crowd reacting as chins are lifted by savage-looking pokes. Samara finally able to stack Anya up and push her back by the final moments, landing several hard swinging lefts and rights along the waist.
R3: Mouth on shoulder, bruising bump-and-slug--girls just taking turns nudging each other back, hooking offending tummies, tits and chins, looking for ripping right hands when there’s enough distance. Both laying in, arms crossed against bellies, shoulders used for leverage and bounce, both punching out of the crossed-arm rhythmic little bobs. Anya getting the better of it, backing Samara up fairly consistently, Aussie engaging in stoic battles all around the canvas, but firefights usually end with her giving ground, ATJ advancing.
R4: Samara ups her intensity level, starts to outwork Anya, Visually, these middle rounds virtually identical--girls pushing into each other, writhing for position, smuggling punches into pain-wracked guts or turning tight to chin, bodying up to smother the receipts. It’s ATJ stepping back now however, Weaving turning the tide, starting to ram the fight back down blonde’s throat. Anya with a zesty burst of lefts and rights to the stomach backs Samara off with a groan at the bell, but aussie the more consistent operator in the 4th.
R5: Samara with a good first minute, getting on Anya and scrubbing, but at the minute mark, blonde steps back and detonates a series of POUNDING rights and lefts against Weaving’s breadbasket as ATJ walks into them, shaking Aussie’s knees and forcing the fight’s first “I’m hurt” clinches. Samara bullied into the ropes and mauled, Anya using her shoulders and palms to brace, setting her feet, then hauling in brutal right hands amidships, leaving Weaving pasty-faced by the bell.
R6: Samara surging in, tackling, driving her girl to the ropes, then holding her down, fists constantly digging in trunk and tummy, or clubbing away head and shoulders, Anya sluggish, arms crossed, laying over on one side or the other, just trying to blunt the damage, hoping for exhaustion to take effect--but Aussie just keeps coming. Weaving the bully, beating Joy into a double-up swoon, then palming her upright, job of work to stack blonde up against the ropes, then work her over some more. Anya getting hit on the jaw and temples now as Samara breaks down the defences--blonde shabby, wilting, offering nothing back--she can’t keep her Aussie off. Then there’s the constant tousle rubbing, the shoulder-butts, the elbow-pushes, the body-pressing--it’s non-stop, just one girl going at another with everything she’s got, heaping on, plugging body with those murderous double and triple right hands. ATJ coming apart at the seams, not punching back, head lolling drowsily, torso sliding forward or to the sides--she’s limp, dazed with punishment, but nothing’s holding Weaving back. After the midway point, this thing becomes a dreadful beat-down, Samara able to catch Anya with tawdry hooks on the chops or beefy right hands square amidships, then simply prop her up for more. Finally, inevitably, Joy pools to canvas, mouth pouted open in abject surrender. Stunning KO6 for Samara Weaving.
After: Anya handed a dreadful pounding, made worse by slipshod refereeing that saw her mercilessly fouled and taking WAY too many punches when she was past the point of defending herself. Samara climbing ring ropes, bellowing to the crowd—crowd roaring back—everyone loves to see a savage beat down KO like this. “Why should I be sorry?” astonished Weaving answers a Tractorpull question in postfight. “She knew she couldn’t take me on the inside, she butted me, she worked my kidneys—she did every little cheap thing she could to keep me off. So when she went out on her feet, did I let up? Hell no. She had those punches coming.”
