Chapter 49: Losing to Me Is No Shame 

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"Ha ha, Richard, look at this, just look at this!"

In the boxing gym office, Paul held a stack of newspapers, laughing heartily. "This one, this one, and this one, they all have stories about me. They say I'm the new star in boxing, the next Tyson. Ha ha ha, I'm going to be famous."

"Paul, congratulations, but I think you should stay humble. This is just the third match; there are still a dozen more to go. Save the celebrations for when you win the championship," Richard couldn't help but advise, seeing Paul's over-excited demeanor.

"Hmph, I think you're just jealous, jealous that the media isn't talking about you," Paul said, lifting his chin with a smirk.

Richard shook his head, put on his gloves, and approached the practice punching bag to continue his training.

"Hey Richard, want my autograph?" Paul asked, holding up a pen.

Thud, thud~ thud, thud, thud~

Richard ignored him, focusing intently on the moving bag, practicing his hooks, uppercuts, and jabs. Especially his jabs; he wanted to make them faster and stronger, his signature move.

"Richard, do you know what you're missing? Let me tell you, you're missing the first autograph of future world champion Paul Pilbert. I genuinely feel sorry for you."

Paul leaned against a nearby punching bag, shaking his head in mock pity.

Bang~ bang, bang, bang~

Richard kept bouncing on his feet, continuously hitting the bag, his breathing still steady.

"Not talking? I guess you're just jealous," Paul said, turning his head.

Cough~

Alvin walked in with his hands behind his back. Lately, the old man had stopped gambling and had started running every morning.

"Ha ha, Alvin, did you see today's newspapers? 'New York News,' 'Sports Weekly,' many papers have stories about me. Look! Look!"

Paul ran over with the newspapers, showing them to Alvin.

Alvin glanced at them and nodded. "Not bad."

"Ha ha ha~ Richard, did you hear that? Alvin said I'm not bad, very good."

Paul laughed loudly, patting Alvin's shoulder. "Alvin, you used to focus on Richard and overlook me. I don't blame you; I know you were fooled by Richard's pretty face. So, I practiced boxing in secret, not for anything else but to one day show you that I, Paul Pilbert, am better than Richard!"

Paul pounded his chest, looking up at the ceiling, tears forming at the corners of his eyes, clearly moved by his own words.

Alvin glanced at him and kept walking forward.

"No applause?" Paul looked at Richard, then at Alvin, pouting. "Alvin, do you now know who has the most potential and who deserves the most attention?"

"I know."

Alvin nodded, looking at Richard. "Richard, stop training for a moment. Paul's made significant progress in the last few matches. Let's congratulate him."

Richard smiled gently, clapping his gloved hands together.

The old man also clapped his hands.

"Ha ha, don't be modest. We're all a team. My victory is your victory, our victory. When I become the world champion, you'll be famous too. We'll share the money, drink together, and party with girls. Ha ha ha~"

Paul laughed, throwing punches in the air.

"It's good to have such ambition, Paul. I used to see you slacking and thought you couldn't match Richard. But in these three matches, your skills aren't inferior to his."

"Of course. Alvin, it's great you've come around. I've waited five years for this, five years! Boo hoo~"

Paul hugged Alvin's shoulder, nearly crying from emotion.

Alvin twitched his mouth, slowly walking towards the ring. "Paul, how about a real match with Richard? Show all your strength. I want to see you defeat Richard."

"Richard, do you dare?!"

Paul raised his head, full of fighting spirit.

"Sure!" Richard smiled lightly.

"Ha ha, Richard, losing to me is no shame."

Paul waved his fist, striding into the office.

Richard blinked. Maybe that statement was a bit premature.

"Richard, hit hard, as hard as you can. This guy needs a reality check."

"Alright, leave it to me," Richard chuckled.

"Richard, are you ready?"

Paul called out, equipped and ready.

"Let's go, to the ring!"

Richard slowly walked onto the ring.

"Come on, Richard. Today I'll show you who's the boss of this gym," Paul shouted.

"Ready... box!" Alvin shouted, stepping back to the sidelines.

"Attack!"

Both fighters roared, charging at each other quickly.

Bang, bang, bang, bang! Boom!

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!! Boom!!!!!!!!

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!!! Boom!!!!!!!!!!!!

Half an hour later, Richard slowly stepped off the ring, drenched in sweat, with a few red marks on his face. Beating an opponent like Paul wasn't easy.

On the ring, Paul lay quietly on the floor, his face swollen with a cut under his left ear, oozing blood. His dark face had patches of deep red, slightly swollen, in bad shape.

But he didn't care about his face now. He was contemplating life. Why, why, why couldn't he win?

For three or four years, he'd fought Richard fourteen times, winning the first match but losing the next thirteen. It felt like Richard was his nemesis; no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't beat him.

This situation was truly hopeless, sob sob~

Thud~ thud~

Alvin walked over with medicine.

"Alvin, I lost again," Paul said sadly, his mouth twisted with hurt and disappointment, on the verge of tears.

"Do you know why?"

"I don't know, but it's not because of laziness. I've been training in boxing since I was six, for seventeen years. I've practiced for seventeen years, while he's trained for less than four. I've trained for dozens of times longer. Why can't I beat him?"

Paul pounded the floor.

Alvin smiled, crouching down to apply the medicine.

"Sss~"

"Bear with it. El dug a bullet out of Richard without anesthesia," Alvin said.

Paul twitched his mouth. "He's a freak. You still haven't answered my question."

"Because of talent!" Alvin replied.

"Talent? Isn't my talent as good as his? We Black people are naturally suited for boxing. In terms of talent, we're no worse than him," Paul questioned.

"In terms of boxing talent, Black people are slightly better than White people. But that doesn't include Richard. Richard has exceptional physical qualities, with immense potential hidden in his body.

This potential is like a rich oil field; the deeper you dig, the more potential you find.

You practiced boxing from a young age, which is good, but Richard also practiced martial arts from a young age, more diligently than you. He did this to consciously train himself, to tap into his potential, making himself stronger."

Alvin explained while treating the injury.

"I've heard similar things from a coach at the Chinese martial arts gym. The coach said everyone has great potential within them. By training with him, you can find the key to unlocking this potential and become an expert. Richard has potential, and so do I. Why can't I match him?"

Paul asked.

"This relates to individual consciousness. Consciousness influences actions. Richard experienced many things growing up, lacking a sense of security, so his desire to become stronger is more intense, and his training attitude is more serious and self-disciplined.

After learning boxing, this consciousness turned into boxing awareness. His boxing awareness is strong, and this is the second area where you're outmatched."

"You mean there's a third?"

Paul frowned.

"Yes, the third is what I've always said. Your mind isn't as sharp as his. He and top boxers use their brains in the ring, planning their moves before they step in, while you rely more on physicality.

You won the first three matches because your physical condition was better, stronger, and more skilled. But as you progress, the competition gets tougher, and you meet stronger opponents. What then?"

Alvin asked.

Paul frowned, remaining silent. Facing an opponent with higher talent, greater potential, more determination, and intelligence, how could he break this cycle?

"In Richard's match against Montell, Montell had the edge in skill and strength, yet Richard won. Could you have done that?"

Alvin asked.

Paul clenched his fists, staying silent.

"Keep it up. Among all my disciples, I have the highest expectations for you and want to see you lift the champion's belt the most," Alvin patted his shoulder, standing up.

"Really?"

Paul sat up excitedly, staring at Alvin.

"Yes!"

If Paul could win the champion's belt, Richard surely could too. Then I'd be the coach of two champions. Can Ali match that? He he he~

Seeing the smile on Alvin's face, Paul was thrilled. This was trust; Alvin valued him the most.

"Alvin, don't worry, I will get that champion's belt."

He pounded his chest and ran off to train, his head buried in his routine.

Alvin smiled wryly. The catfish effect is quite useful, he he~