Olivia Holt versus Natalie Portman (Flyweight Title)
Jun 26, 2020 23:40:05 GMT -6
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Post by Lookout! Boxing on Jun 26, 2020 23:40:05 GMT -6
Olivia Holt vs
Natalie Portman ( Flyweight Title)
Before: “Clash of Generations” vying with “End of an Era” for most overused trope among the chattering classes. Portman’s presence here more a symptom of how chaotic the flyweight division is right now, as elite contenders keep seeking each other out, but also keep tearing each other down: Roberts beats Avril, but loses to Fox, who loses to Hale, who’s bouncing back off a loss to Collins… String a couple wins together with a HOF pedigree, and you’re the #1 contender. Olivia the heavy favorite, but nobody’s talking about her. It’s all about how Natalie had her first FCBA bout 2 months after Holt was born. Or how she entered the Hall of Fame 2 ½ years before Olivia’s first fight. It might as well be “Natalie Portman vs the Calender” for all the attention being paid to the Champion.
Black bikinis and loose chin-length hair for both Challenger and Champion tonight. Portman sporting aa bandeau top while Holt has he signature high-waisted bottoms, black gloves all around.
R1: Olivia hopping-to, pounds an overhand right against Natalie’s head, straightens that baby out and drifts a tidy across Nat’s mouth. Portman on her heels, covering up, bending at the waist, Holt misses over top, momentarily swinging herself off balance and giving Natalie room to escape. Olivia’s hopping pursuit relentless, teeth bared, right hand back ready to loop destruction onto Natalie, she’s hard pressed as she’s clubbed and raked along the ropes. Portman gritting her teeth, staying compact, answering back in spots: challenger riding out wide punches, then digging amidships, finishing up on jug to keep Holt from pinning her ears back. Roaring round of all-out punching has crowd delirious, Olivia effectively chastising Natalie all around the ring.
R2: Natalie blowing hard after a furious first, bops outside, goes to work with surgical cruelty with her jab. Olivia turning, sullen as Portman tap-tap-taps that left eye her penetrating stick, banging patiently away like a crow on roadkill. Classic Natalie: relentless, coldblooded, systematic facials—she’s heartlessly busting up Olivia, pounding that eye puffy in a bell to bell second.
R3: Natalie: Jab/right hand quick up top, digs hooks while leaning her cheek in close to Olivia’s gloves for extra leverage, blonde getting rocked, eases a step back, looking to hook-out-the-crouch. Second minute, Portman jumps in and beats her to a clanging left on the chin; puts slicing right on top and another batting left on eye to PUT HOLT DOWN! Quaking 8 for Oliva, ON COMES NATALIE! Brutal lathering beatdown chases Holt along the ropes, Portman’s fists bouncing and clubbing off head and shoulders. In the corner: Natalie getting up into Olivia’s ribcage, first boozy clinches from a stunned champion as she grabs Nat up behind the elbows, Rest of the way—relentless waves of Portman break on a hurting Holt, blonde just clinching breathlessly, trying to stem the tide as Natalie romps 10-8 to the finish line.
R4: Signs of life from Olivia, she crowds Natalie and swarms the classiest of classy brunettes on the inside. Holt smart enough to realize she can’t compete out in spaced—she gets right on Portman’s chest, makes her fight in a phone booth. Olivia pinning Natalie to ropes, rough-rubbing her head across the challenger’s face, under her chin, digging to breadbasket, then palming up and pushing—good mauling roughhouse to scuff Natalie up this round.
R5: Natalie gambles, luring Olivia forward with a hangdog "I'm-hurt-to-the-body" expression, then launching a whistling right hand to solar plexus to renew hostilities. The hottest, most intense, most unforgiving two-way of the fight erupts: no quarter asked or given - girls panting, whimpering as both lean forward, release hands downstairs. Licking lather brings crowd to it's feet - nothing like the small women when they get to swapping at full speed and PORTMAN WOBBLES TO ONE KNEE! Natalie pasty-faced, mouth open, eyelashes blinking in astonishment - Olivia glaring down, breathing hard, chest heaving: complex moment as girls silently renegotiate everything between them in a few heartbeats. Portman rises, wincing, but determined: rest of the way a brutal, scraping toe-to-toe - both girls jamming in withering right hands to the body, mopping up hooks tits and chin to the bell.
R6: Natalie with a sleek lead right clean on the button, buzzes Olivia’s legs, cleans up with a pair of rigid hook on the ribs as blonde covers up. Portman stepping to jabbing range, spearing Holt’s face, hooking off the left foot—meanspirited little tucking lefts in behind right elbow. Olivia busting up nicely, but still pressing—she’s getting spots inside, hustle-punching the older woman’s midsection, forcing Natalie to bail and regroup at times.
R7: Natalie back to the jab - peppering, poking, stinging - she establishes order midring, has Olivia flinching, covering up, blocking rather than brawling. Judicious right hands from Portman, straight from the shoulder - penetrating Holt's guard and punching her flush in the mouth, or between the eyes. Nice doubled-up hook from Nat - taking Olivia body to head, leaving her blonde frowning in complaint at the bite. Portman shoeshining Holt to get her stooped forward, and then pulling HARD hooks across blonde’s face ear-to-ear. Just sidestepping footwork from Nat - she's boxing from angles, always in range to punch, just turning Olivia and touching her for points in the seventh.
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R8: Olivia finally putting consistent, quality minutes together. Geometry of the ring changing, Holt in constant contact with Portman now, grinding and rubbing her when not clubbing away on her. Natalie walked to the ropes and smeared along them, backed into corners, touched to the body, clouted to the chin, can’t disengage: Olivia’s getting her way I there. Outworking Portman, chugging two-gun to her belly. Natalie looking frustrated with the constant weight of Olivia’s face on her chest or snuggled against her neck, but keeps her feet, nobody out of this fight yet!
R9: Portman fights a Nat Portman round—getting range at midring, right hand at her cheek as she steps and pops a stinging stick left side of Olivia’s; face, Champ’s left eye closing, nose bleeding—during these minutes all she can do is turn on the spot, stare at the incoming and try to block as challenger bangs away. Coldhearted glare Nat to Holt at the bell as girls passed by shoulder-to-shoulder: Portman looking for signs of quit, not finding any despite the second-half domination.
R10: Corner crew not sugar-coating it, Olivia can’t retain without the KO. Batting gloves here we go, Holt chopping the right hand, moving her hips through her hooks--Portman fading back, hitting the ropes, covering up and leaning forward: she’s a tired fighter. Olivia battered, but still punching hard--she tap-taps a stabilizing left/right up top then POUNDS a shivering straight arm left off Natalie’s flank, earning a drowsy groan from the brunette. Holt pushing on Portman’s shoulders, hooking her savagely to the waist, sweeping a clouting overhand right to the ear, Nothing coming back, Nat just bending forward and back, sluggishly rolling punches. Midway through, a glorious right hook in the ribs buckles Natalie’s legs AND SENDS HER TO THE CANVAS! Olivia stepping over her to get to the neutral corner, crowd on its feet bringing the house down, drowning out the ref’s count. Holt turns around to face her fans, raising her gloves over her head, drinking it all in, the crowd somehow manages to get EVEN LOUDER, this is the biggest comeback of her career, ref taps her on the shoulder, she shrugs him off, she gets grabbed by the shoulder, turns around to give him a piece of her mind, eats a right hand that slams her back into the turnbuckle BECAUSE PORTMAN BEAT THE COUNT! Natalie goes after the body with pumping, rising two-fisted action, leaving Olivia slumped up against the ringpost, hands limp along the ropes. Portman squares away and POUNDING straight lefts and rights in criss-cross patterns through the guard--it's flyweight face-punching at it's most furious. Holt helpless in the ropes, paralyzed, now totally at the mercy of Natalie Portman, AND THE REF CALLS FOR THE BELL! Ref jumps in to interupt the torrent of Portman leather it’s a TKO10 and a history-making ELEVENTH Flyweight title for Natalie Portman!
After: Olivia sinking to a seat in the corner, sobbing into her gloves. Natalie grabbing onto the ropes as soon as the ref lets her hand go, chest heaving utterly spent. HISC girls over the rails and storming the ring en masse, Priya and Naomi on perimeter duty keeping Tractorpull away from Natalie’s moment. Mila scooping up the Paramount title belt to wrap around Portman’s waist, Black Swan guiding the White Swan over to preform the traditional HISC tummy-up. Mishy, sporting an HISC track suit and wet hair from her fight earlier tonight pulling Olivia’s gloves away from her face as Mila guides Natalie in for the humiliation! Holt’s been an HISC boogeyman for more than two years now, and all of their flyweights are enjoying this tummy-up!
As Mila props Natalie up with a shoulder for a walk around to the standing crowd, Mishy begins to lower the zipper on her tracksuit, preparing to indulge in a private breast-smother. Priya’s claiming the Reebok title belt, to join Naomi who’s already displaying the Maxim belt on the other side of the ring, allowing Demi Rose to deke in and under the ropes to interrupt. Rose sporting an O&E tracksuit after her bout earlier tonight, not fully zipped after Sydney Sweeney’s tender attentions during their JMD bout is not about to let their flagship fly get put under by “a has-been looking for a freebie” Williams rising, gets right into Demi’s face, and now we’ve got a combined five JMD titles bumping chests and it’s all just background noise as Natalie belongs to the ages now!
Natalie Portman ( Flyweight Title)
Before: “Clash of Generations” vying with “End of an Era” for most overused trope among the chattering classes. Portman’s presence here more a symptom of how chaotic the flyweight division is right now, as elite contenders keep seeking each other out, but also keep tearing each other down: Roberts beats Avril, but loses to Fox, who loses to Hale, who’s bouncing back off a loss to Collins… String a couple wins together with a HOF pedigree, and you’re the #1 contender. Olivia the heavy favorite, but nobody’s talking about her. It’s all about how Natalie had her first FCBA bout 2 months after Holt was born. Or how she entered the Hall of Fame 2 ½ years before Olivia’s first fight. It might as well be “Natalie Portman vs the Calender” for all the attention being paid to the Champion.
Black bikinis and loose chin-length hair for both Challenger and Champion tonight. Portman sporting aa bandeau top while Holt has he signature high-waisted bottoms, black gloves all around.
R1: Olivia hopping-to, pounds an overhand right against Natalie’s head, straightens that baby out and drifts a tidy across Nat’s mouth. Portman on her heels, covering up, bending at the waist, Holt misses over top, momentarily swinging herself off balance and giving Natalie room to escape. Olivia’s hopping pursuit relentless, teeth bared, right hand back ready to loop destruction onto Natalie, she’s hard pressed as she’s clubbed and raked along the ropes. Portman gritting her teeth, staying compact, answering back in spots: challenger riding out wide punches, then digging amidships, finishing up on jug to keep Holt from pinning her ears back. Roaring round of all-out punching has crowd delirious, Olivia effectively chastising Natalie all around the ring.
R2: Natalie blowing hard after a furious first, bops outside, goes to work with surgical cruelty with her jab. Olivia turning, sullen as Portman tap-tap-taps that left eye her penetrating stick, banging patiently away like a crow on roadkill. Classic Natalie: relentless, coldblooded, systematic facials—she’s heartlessly busting up Olivia, pounding that eye puffy in a bell to bell second.
R3: Natalie: Jab/right hand quick up top, digs hooks while leaning her cheek in close to Olivia’s gloves for extra leverage, blonde getting rocked, eases a step back, looking to hook-out-the-crouch. Second minute, Portman jumps in and beats her to a clanging left on the chin; puts slicing right on top and another batting left on eye to PUT HOLT DOWN! Quaking 8 for Oliva, ON COMES NATALIE! Brutal lathering beatdown chases Holt along the ropes, Portman’s fists bouncing and clubbing off head and shoulders. In the corner: Natalie getting up into Olivia’s ribcage, first boozy clinches from a stunned champion as she grabs Nat up behind the elbows, Rest of the way—relentless waves of Portman break on a hurting Holt, blonde just clinching breathlessly, trying to stem the tide as Natalie romps 10-8 to the finish line.
R4: Signs of life from Olivia, she crowds Natalie and swarms the classiest of classy brunettes on the inside. Holt smart enough to realize she can’t compete out in spaced—she gets right on Portman’s chest, makes her fight in a phone booth. Olivia pinning Natalie to ropes, rough-rubbing her head across the challenger’s face, under her chin, digging to breadbasket, then palming up and pushing—good mauling roughhouse to scuff Natalie up this round.
R5: Natalie gambles, luring Olivia forward with a hangdog "I'm-hurt-to-the-body" expression, then launching a whistling right hand to solar plexus to renew hostilities. The hottest, most intense, most unforgiving two-way of the fight erupts: no quarter asked or given - girls panting, whimpering as both lean forward, release hands downstairs. Licking lather brings crowd to it's feet - nothing like the small women when they get to swapping at full speed and PORTMAN WOBBLES TO ONE KNEE! Natalie pasty-faced, mouth open, eyelashes blinking in astonishment - Olivia glaring down, breathing hard, chest heaving: complex moment as girls silently renegotiate everything between them in a few heartbeats. Portman rises, wincing, but determined: rest of the way a brutal, scraping toe-to-toe - both girls jamming in withering right hands to the body, mopping up hooks tits and chin to the bell.
R6: Natalie with a sleek lead right clean on the button, buzzes Olivia’s legs, cleans up with a pair of rigid hook on the ribs as blonde covers up. Portman stepping to jabbing range, spearing Holt’s face, hooking off the left foot—meanspirited little tucking lefts in behind right elbow. Olivia busting up nicely, but still pressing—she’s getting spots inside, hustle-punching the older woman’s midsection, forcing Natalie to bail and regroup at times.
R7: Natalie back to the jab - peppering, poking, stinging - she establishes order midring, has Olivia flinching, covering up, blocking rather than brawling. Judicious right hands from Portman, straight from the shoulder - penetrating Holt's guard and punching her flush in the mouth, or between the eyes. Nice doubled-up hook from Nat - taking Olivia body to head, leaving her blonde frowning in complaint at the bite. Portman shoeshining Holt to get her stooped forward, and then pulling HARD hooks across blonde’s face ear-to-ear. Just sidestepping footwork from Nat - she's boxing from angles, always in range to punch, just turning Olivia and touching her for points in the seventh.
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R8: Olivia finally putting consistent, quality minutes together. Geometry of the ring changing, Holt in constant contact with Portman now, grinding and rubbing her when not clubbing away on her. Natalie walked to the ropes and smeared along them, backed into corners, touched to the body, clouted to the chin, can’t disengage: Olivia’s getting her way I there. Outworking Portman, chugging two-gun to her belly. Natalie looking frustrated with the constant weight of Olivia’s face on her chest or snuggled against her neck, but keeps her feet, nobody out of this fight yet!
R9: Portman fights a Nat Portman round—getting range at midring, right hand at her cheek as she steps and pops a stinging stick left side of Olivia’s; face, Champ’s left eye closing, nose bleeding—during these minutes all she can do is turn on the spot, stare at the incoming and try to block as challenger bangs away. Coldhearted glare Nat to Holt at the bell as girls passed by shoulder-to-shoulder: Portman looking for signs of quit, not finding any despite the second-half domination.
R10: Corner crew not sugar-coating it, Olivia can’t retain without the KO. Batting gloves here we go, Holt chopping the right hand, moving her hips through her hooks--Portman fading back, hitting the ropes, covering up and leaning forward: she’s a tired fighter. Olivia battered, but still punching hard--she tap-taps a stabilizing left/right up top then POUNDS a shivering straight arm left off Natalie’s flank, earning a drowsy groan from the brunette. Holt pushing on Portman’s shoulders, hooking her savagely to the waist, sweeping a clouting overhand right to the ear, Nothing coming back, Nat just bending forward and back, sluggishly rolling punches. Midway through, a glorious right hook in the ribs buckles Natalie’s legs AND SENDS HER TO THE CANVAS! Olivia stepping over her to get to the neutral corner, crowd on its feet bringing the house down, drowning out the ref’s count. Holt turns around to face her fans, raising her gloves over her head, drinking it all in, the crowd somehow manages to get EVEN LOUDER, this is the biggest comeback of her career, ref taps her on the shoulder, she shrugs him off, she gets grabbed by the shoulder, turns around to give him a piece of her mind, eats a right hand that slams her back into the turnbuckle BECAUSE PORTMAN BEAT THE COUNT! Natalie goes after the body with pumping, rising two-fisted action, leaving Olivia slumped up against the ringpost, hands limp along the ropes. Portman squares away and POUNDING straight lefts and rights in criss-cross patterns through the guard--it's flyweight face-punching at it's most furious. Holt helpless in the ropes, paralyzed, now totally at the mercy of Natalie Portman, AND THE REF CALLS FOR THE BELL! Ref jumps in to interupt the torrent of Portman leather it’s a TKO10 and a history-making ELEVENTH Flyweight title for Natalie Portman!
After: Olivia sinking to a seat in the corner, sobbing into her gloves. Natalie grabbing onto the ropes as soon as the ref lets her hand go, chest heaving utterly spent. HISC girls over the rails and storming the ring en masse, Priya and Naomi on perimeter duty keeping Tractorpull away from Natalie’s moment. Mila scooping up the Paramount title belt to wrap around Portman’s waist, Black Swan guiding the White Swan over to preform the traditional HISC tummy-up. Mishy, sporting an HISC track suit and wet hair from her fight earlier tonight pulling Olivia’s gloves away from her face as Mila guides Natalie in for the humiliation! Holt’s been an HISC boogeyman for more than two years now, and all of their flyweights are enjoying this tummy-up!
As Mila props Natalie up with a shoulder for a walk around to the standing crowd, Mishy begins to lower the zipper on her tracksuit, preparing to indulge in a private breast-smother. Priya’s claiming the Reebok title belt, to join Naomi who’s already displaying the Maxim belt on the other side of the ring, allowing Demi Rose to deke in and under the ropes to interrupt. Rose sporting an O&E tracksuit after her bout earlier tonight, not fully zipped after Sydney Sweeney’s tender attentions during their JMD bout is not about to let their flagship fly get put under by “a has-been looking for a freebie” Williams rising, gets right into Demi’s face, and now we’ve got a combined five JMD titles bumping chests and it’s all just background noise as Natalie belongs to the ages now!
