PARTIAL REPORT

Posted by Simguy on 1/3/2004, 8:47 am.

Before: Ask 10 people if Shannon’s washed up, you’ll get 10 different answers the general consensus is that she’s still a risky proposal if you’re trying to showcase yourself for a title fight. “I wanted Shannon because she’s stronger than Kristanna,” says a fiercely determined Brooke. “I’ll admit, this is all about the Krushers and their overprotected, overrated so-called middleweight ‘champion’, Kristanna Loken. She’s basking in the sun, but when u was ready to fight her, Janet wouldn’t take my calls. They made me jump through hoops, wore me down with gatekeepers and took the fight when I was at my weakest and Loken STILL just barely beat me, Kris is a total joke, and I’m determined to expose her in the ring: Shannon’s just my calling card.” Shannon in elegant black bikini, hair up--Brooke in crimson bikini, twist tie halter top, toe side bottoms, hair darker, longer than we’ve seen it recently.

During R1: Flat footed, power jabbing midring, big 6 foot gals setting down and pounding away with long, thumping leather--Shannon getting the better of it as she steps Brooke back under a steady bombardment upper chest and face. Second minute, Brooke’s back to the ropes--Shannon a little ponderous, but smooth--she doubles up the jab, shifts her hips, eases in close and puts a gliding right cross clean across Brooke’s chin, just turning into the short clout, stepping back out in good order. Shields wobbly butt--leaning forward to clinch--she slides all the way down Tweed’s torso, finally stumbling to all fours! Shivering chin music has big brunette thunderstruck--Brookey up at 8, but dazzled/ Tweed walks in, bodies up big-girl, clans up tummy with a slow, steady pounding--keeping the let shoulder in Brooke’s chest, cupping Brooke’s elbows and pushing up on her, swatting at rib, flank and belly to the bell.

R2: Back to midring, that flat footed gun-platform jabbing, big girls just reach in heavy left hands, straight and long, lacing thump to body, chest and head. Slow rotation clockwise, girls eyes lcked as they shuffle and poke. Towards the end, some clinching as they fall in--both faces shiny, lumping up some under educated, howitzer stick. Shannon taking the opportunity to club away at Brooke’s fleshy tits and chest with brawny little scrub on the inside--Shields glum as she takes, then ties up.

R3: Patient, big woman stuff by both girls, both having their moments. Tweed manages to work in close behind her jab and grease Brooke’s chin another tight right cross, shaking Shields’ powerful legs, drawing a woozy clinch from the brunette. Brooke lands a bludgeoning right hand thick to paunch on blonde, putting Shannon wobbly butt and forcing her to tie up hurt for a break. Getting swampy in there--clinching for women this big and strong just another weapon--both woman to be able to walk the other back, wear her down with beefy-armed grappling..

R4: Shannon’s  got those old-cougar cutes. Little bit of footwork now--just potshot ting a lead right hand and hopping to the left, fading a little, catching Brooke the pull-counter right hand. Tweed will suddenly step in and claw lefts and rights at Brooke’s flanks, shoulders and ears--deceptively quick squall of punching before either clinching or stepping to the side. Shields unhurt, but perplexed--blonde able to body up and muscle brunette back to the ropes in the confusion, embarrassing Brooke with beef.

R5: Shannon jabbing, then edging in--she has a knack of turning on that sneaky right hand from close range, turning Brooke’s head. Shields taking the shot better, but busting up a bit--she’s been hit and hit hard tonight. Brooke concentrating on the older woman’s midsection and stamina this round--pulling hat right hand flat amidships, tieing up, walking her to the ropes. By the bell, Tweed’s moth breathing, starting to look frazzled.

R6: Brooke’s reeling Shannon in. Tweed still jabbing with authority, but bringing it back low in a tell-tale sign of fatigue--Shields marching forward when they trade stick on the outside, negotiating blonde to the corners. Tweed doing a lot more clinching, pulling on Brooke’s arms, trying to slow her up--Brooke using her shoulders and torso-strength to nudge and budge, struggling for room. Brooke’s taking big, swinging hacks at Shannon’s stomach and Tweed can’t do anything about it--blonde grimacing, standing at the ropes, looking more and more shopworn as Brooke lands in thick 2s and 3s downstairs.

R7: Brooke busts open Shannon’s lower lip with jabs, really spanking back blonde head, driving Tweed ropeside, Brooke swinging wide right hands to the body, thump-bouncing ‘em off the torso then doubling up into a Foremanesque uppercut. Shannon labouring, leaning back, crumpling forward as brunette systematically demolishes the defences. Brooke really softening up Shannon’s muscular arms--pounding away side to side, Shields just twisting left and right, bashing her fist off bicep and bringing her hands back to her chest to reload, Brooke warned for riding her forearm across Shannon’s upper back to push her down--Tweed breathing hard, taking her time on one knee before rising.

R8: Brooke in complete charge--Shannon’s 40-something legs not holding canvas anymore--brunette can just leg-drive her any which way she wants. Shields still working behind the jab, cruelly pounding Shannon senseless before bodying up--Tweed’s nose bleeding, eyes swelling, upper chest red and blotchy from the consistent from beat. Shields conserving her energy--nothing wild, but it’s heavy--just a grinding stand-’er-up-and-beat-her-down attack. Both girls with crossed arms--Tweed woozy, stooping forward, Brooke alert, twisting on her hips, pulling clouting blows in, working at a steady pace. Crowd groans in sympathy as Brooke tucks a short, digging right in under Shannon’s left breast, shocking the heart--blonde groans, falls into Brooke’s embrace and toes up around brunette waist.

R9: Typeical sequence--Brooke beating Shannon at the ropes, Tweed’s arms crossed against her chest and body, eyes unfocused, body tilted forward. Shields twists to the right, pounds a short, shocking left off Tweed’s face with spank, poses to the right for a second, then twists back the other way, bouncing her right odd Shannon’s left shoulder. Back and forth--Brooke just slamming away at the dregs--Tweed swaying hurt on the spot, not answering back, just soaking up ike an old batttleshuip being used for target practice. Bell to bell Brooke--brunette lathering up in a healthy sweat--no trace of remorse at the brutal, numbing shellack she’s putting on Tweed.

R10: Shannon Tweed’s fans biting their knuckles, shaking their heads, this kind of things tough to watch. Give Tweed credit: she’s soaking up shattering wallops flat off her face, obviously ruined, but refusing to go down. She’s not taking the body work as well--legs shaking on impact, she’s more quick to clinch, resting her cheek wet against Brooke’s shoulder as the ref tugs for the break. Brooke heartless, marching on Shannon, walking her down--Tweed sullen, defeated but too proud to quit. At the bell--hard glare from Brooke, then she raises her hands, turns away to strut, Tweed spitting out her mouthpiece, shuffling away battered and desolate--comes back UD10 Brooke Shields.

Before: Shannon sees her lead fade away much like her youth--Brooke surviving a crashing opening-round knockdown and some spirited fare from the aging lioness before finally imposing her strength in a bruising Middleweight classic. Shields not content--she underscores the boxing beat down weeks later with a devastating, one-sided triumph I a bear hug contest (also simulated--Brooke wins in 6 min 30n seconds) with Shannon at creamy Hollywood party. Brooke on a misison: seek, destroy, take no prisoners.

Reposted by Archer 9/28/10.