Creative Writing Excercise #1

Okay so I promised myself I'd start writing so here i go!   

I'm getting these exercises from a book, aptly named, "The 3AM Epiphany" 

And here we gooo....
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Exercise #1

Adrenaline is flowing. Heart beats are slowly increasing as  the music comes to a close.   The crowd is cheering and booing, laughing, and yelling. The entrance way is set the lights are flashing, strobes are going on and off and the smoke machine is bellowing out plumes of artificial fog out from behind a curtain waiting for a body to  "Spartan, get ready!" someone yells.   Suddenly, it all disappears. None of it matters. There is no longer any crowd noise, the lights seem like but a flicker, the plume of smoke bellowing out now a mere obstacle to cut through on the way to glory. The music hits: an orchestra's string section playing in epic proportions, suddenly the percussion kicks and the chorus sings.  'Next Stop Everything" is what it's called and that's just what is waiting in the squared circle. Excitement, joy, pain, agony, thrills, nerves, all only a couple of hundred feet away. The curtain parts and there are the masses.  People young and old crowd the pavilion. Some boo, some cheer, some chant.  Posters and signs and t-shirts for their favorite warrior run rampant in the venue, but none of that matters. Through the smoke, under the arch and the beaming lights, slowly across the strobe I enter the arena and make way to the ring. There an opponent waits, lingers, prowls, no stalks and sizes up the competition all for the adulation of the crowd, like roman gladiators two men square of in a ring for the sheer thumbs up or thumbs down. There is no prize, there is no money, there is no fame but there is plenty of glory.  In the ring the gladiators square up *DING DING DING * The match starts. They jockey for position. Slams, bodies, elbows, kicks, and chairs all fly across the ring all with malicious intentions. 10 minutes later and a 1-2-3 and it's all over. The crowd cheers, the crowd boos: The warriors are both satisfied. In a world where both boos and cheers are signs of a job well done the warriors know that they have succeeded, the win a hollow one, as the true victory came for both men. They make their way to the back. Back to the now dim entrance, to whisps of smoke where there once was a wall, through the curtain into the dressing area and get set to do it all again.