PART 1: Originally posted by Simguy in 10/29.2005, 9:40 am.

Before: Hard feelings going in—McAdams on record as saying Alba’s the only top 10 name Rachel knows she can beat right now: auburn-haired temptress won’t back down from those inflammatory statements. “I think it’s been blown out of proportion,” Rachel says in prefight, “but, yes, I think Jessica’s vulnerable. Jess knows she’s quit in fights and that’s the only reason I think I can take her right away, I’m not saying I’m a better boxer or anything—I know I have a lot to learn—but I also know I’d never give up the way Alba has under pressure.”

Alba stung, serious at the podium. “Rachel McAdams has come right out and called me a quitter,” Jessica says, eyes flashing. “Well, we’ll just see about that. When I’m beating her, and I mean beating her bad, she’s going to eat those words. I’m going to punish Rachel like I’ve never punished another woman in the ring before.”

Into The Blue bikini for Alba (baby blue top, thin rainbow striped bottoms) white gloves, slick low ponytail—Auburn curls for McAdams a la Redeye, navy lace bra and panties, silver/grey gloves.

During R1: McAdams comparatively stiff, dukes up rigid, strong stance: Alba much looser, loping around the ring, more fluid, more apt to drop her hands outside. Jess using the ring, testing McAdams’ footwork, plying her tummy with jabs and melting away from receipts. Defensively, Alba supple, sleek, spinning off the ropes to sidestep Rachel and turn her flanks. Not much damage done, but it’s a clear boxing shutout for Jessica: she touches, doesn’t get touched in the first.

R2: Similar loping, loose-limbed look from Jessica, but she sets down a biting counter-hook inside McAdams’ jab early, ringing Rachel up to the chin and putting her on her heels. No follow up—Alba going back to the belly jab, just locating Rachel, fixing her position, controlling and dictating to her, McAdams sturdy, shakes off that strapping wallop and keeps coming forward, but she’s getting outmaneuvered. McAdams corner calm, but insistent during the break: “Rache, I need you to cut off the ring, Ok? You have to be pumping that jab, don’t let her potshot you like that, and listen: go to this girl’s body. We don’t want Jessica to have legs in the second half, do you hear me?”

R3: Alba very smooth, relaxed, oozing poise. She steps right, feints, slides an oily hesitation right across Rachel’s mouth, startling brunette. Alba lifting the jab off her hip and busting McAdams in the face, then stooping to stick her hard in that flat, pale tummy. Alba so sinewy, bending into her punches—greasy right hands setting up licking, stroking hooks downstairs as her torso leans back and forth. Delicious caressing action on a lot of Jessi’s punches, especially that hook to the ribcage as Rachel’s leaning forward behind her guard: in slo mo, it looks like Jessica’s just sliding her hand across Rachel’s flank. McAdams on board late with some stout lefts and rights to Alba’s hips and flanks—Jess riding out, then stepping away, easily disengaging whenever she pleases.

R4: Hard right hand lead rings Rachel up: Jessica dips left shoulder, rip-licks a vicious hook to waist, snapping fist back to her chest with a scowl as she rotates left. McAdams gutshot and hurt. Pivoting to stay square and Alba ROASTS her another blistering lead right hand on the mouth—DOWN GOES RACHEL! McAdams dropped to her heinie in shock—Jessica stepping into her and trampling her, blaming momentum from that oily right—Rache takes a wobbly 8.

And Jessica Alba unleashes.

It’s unrelenting, it’s savage, it’s beautiful. Beating slides along the ropes from corner to corner as poor Rachel McAdams is licked and lashed RAW—Jessica flat footed and supple in front of her, tearing away, face scowling, lips pursed, Alba’s sinewy torsi dips side to side, her loose-limbed punches cuffing and stroking Rachel’s ears/jawlines. Dip n’rip left hooks scorch Rachel’s ribs, buckle her knees—rangy right hands drawn sidearm into the body wrench agonized groaned from shaky-legged brunette. McAdams’ left across her body, right at her cheek, trying to stay compact—she’s riding it out sturdy, shipping horrendous shellack, but she won’t go down again. Bell: Jessica glorying in the sight of her reeling, teetering foe: McAdams badly beaten, swaying on her feet, eyelashes fluttering—but refusing to quit when asked by the ref. Huge 10-7 round, Alba.

R5: McAdams ramshackle, mouth open, eyes half closed and swelling—she’s walking on her heel, assuming rickety stances, reacting late on punches. And look at Alba backing off and carrying this girl! Rachel Mac obviously ready to go, but Jessi goes back to that nibbling little belly jab—working sinuously in and out, winning little grunts from McAdams each time left hand spanks flat against worn out tummy. Jessica scowling as she prowls to her right outside, looking over shabby defences—poor Rachel just turning, just trying to keep her girl in front of her.

McAdams/Alba con. (too much spiteful punching for one post).

Originally posted by Simguy on 10/29/2005, 9:41 am.

R6: Alba torturing her foe, playing with her. Lithe, limber boxing—Jessica slicing in and out, bending low, collecting jabs and long right hands to the body—Rachel ashen faced, glaring back with “how-could-you” eyes as Alba takes what she wants. Jessica brawny in spots—stepping-to Rachel and working her with dip-and-rip uppercuts from both mitts inside—supple lashing doled out to the breadbasket and lungs as McAdams is beaten against the ropes. Rachel destitute, ragdoll—Alba able to shove and palm to her heart’s content, just molding McAdams like clay. Breezy punching shut out Jessica: she stalks away while staring over her shoulder at auburn remnants—McAdams staggering back to her corner tingly-legged.

R7: STOP THE FIGHT! Jessica ups the temp again and it’s the fourth round revisited. Poor Rachel can’t fight back, can’t clinch, can’t get her back off the ropes—she is viciously assaulted this round by an unrelenting, pitiless Jessica Alba. Alba twisting and torquing into slashing lefts and rights, snapping the mitts off Rachel tidy, always set to punch. Alba using her palms, extended elbows and forearms to constantly touch and prop her foe before strapping her, shifting weight from one foot to the other with exquisite, lithe leverage. Right uppercuts off the right foot pick Rachel’s drowsy face up time and again. Wince-making hooks snappy off the front foot lick-lick in under the elbows, dropping Rachel to her hands and knees for another 8. On and on and on—the limber-limbed lather drums away on Rachel. Bell: McAdams,  blubbering, out on her feet, but when the ref asks, she shakes her disheveled head in a murmured “No.” Rachel battered, but refusing to quit in a torturous seventh.

R8: Rachel trudging forward, working her arms like a robot and tanning Alba’s flanks: Jess willing to stand her ground, let Rache get off for the opportunity to punch-with and maybe hurt McAdams in exchanges. Alba using her left shoulder in Rachel’s chest to steer her, pivoting around it—clouting McAdams whiplash punches up and down. Jessica dipping that left shoulder, then ripping her left hook or uppercut—punch just biting into pale ribs or tummy, licking across chin over and over again—each punch leaving McAdams just a little more worse for wear. Rache laying in, staying close, but not moving her hands: she’s paralyzed by punches, stupid from punishment, curvy legs and proud backside holding her up when many girls would have pooled at Alba’s feet by now. Bell: Jessica standing haughty, forcing harsh eye contact—she makes Rachel walk around to get to her corner.

R9: Jessica edging in with her shoulder, working snappy off the front foot when she wants to, easing out and stepping around her jab when that pleases her: Rachel has no say in the matter. Alba walking to her right with that sexy frown constantly looking Rachel over, assessing what needs more work: McAdams turning rickety, just trying to hold herself together. Ringing hesitation right hand clouts Rachel’s head aside at the midway point, unhinges her knees—Jess steps aside as McAdams reels forward, pitching face first into the ropes and hanging on to prevent the knockdown. Alba steps in to mop up a lanky, strapping beat down to the bell—turning over either ankle as she hauls savage leather onto a withered and beaten opponent, Shutout Alba—McAdams in tatters as she stumbles along the ropes to her corner.

R10: Jessica indulging early—edging in shoulder to shoulder and trading body shot hooks: McAdams drowsy, fighting on instinct, but working dutifully to Alba’s golden brown ribs, Down the stretch, Alba turns on the jets—easing onto her right foot to pull savage, clouting hooks across Rachel’s chin—pounding the mouthpiece off McAdams’ teeth and RACHEL GOES DOWN! hands and knees, Rachel, panting breaths—she struggles up and reels against the ropes with fluttering eyelashes as Alba paces, frowning, in the neutral corner. Ragged 8, Rache, and on comes Jessica. Thick, strapping punches—Jess pushing in with her shoulder to Rachel’s chest, then easing onto the right foot to get those ringing hooks and McAdams is GUZZLIMG leather. Punch after punch sick off Rachel’s chin, smashing her head back and around and MCADAMS GOES DOWN! Rachel flowing forward, sprawling on her belly as Alba jumps aside—Jessica smiling, laughing as she saunters away—BUT RACHEL BEATS THE COUNT! McAdams’ own corner screaming at her to stay down, but her body’s determined to keep resisting, even if she’s clearly out of it. Alba happy to wade back in, pour on abuse in the waning moments—Rachel tilting forward and almost certainly headed to the canvas when she’s saved by the final bell. Come back 10-0 rout. UD10 WIDE, Jessica Alba.

After: Alba hard hearted, lifting her mitts and strutting, she just handed out the beating of the year to a tough, determined, but savagely outclassed Rachel McAdams this evening. Rachel battered unrecognizable, getting penlights and smelling salts from concerned officials—what a drubbing. When she recovers her senses, Rachel breaks down, shuddering with sobs as a robe is placed across her shoulders. Slow mo replays drawn groans from the crowd—too many gorgeous, slinging powershots landed to recount—its glorious, even majestic supremacy showed by Jessica Alba tonight.

“I promised Rachel a beating,” Jessica beams in postfight, “and I delivered! Too many girls have run their mouths at my expense this year and this was for all of them. Jessica Alba is the best in the business, baby, just ask Rachel!”

SIX shutout rounds. FOUR knockdowns. Beatings in the fourth and 7^th that could stand on their own as the most savage of the year. Spicy right hands and hooks that shook and hurt Rachel all through the night and most incredibly: McAdams landing punches in only FOUR minutes of the entire thirty. Jessica Alba may have pissed away the summer, but she ROARS back in the fall with this sumptuous performance.

Reposted by Archer 4/24/09.