Chapter 021 I Will Save the Boxing World_2

It's not that you lack investment insight, rather it's that you haven't done thorough research. You don't know the true value of the three companies, nor do you realize how much potential we have and what value we can create in the future.

If your company's professional evaluation only sees a future for me as a Boxer like Holyfield, then don't bother signing me. My value certainly doesn't end there."

"Only a Boxer like Holyfield? Only?"

Mario's eyes widened in disbelief as he looked at Link. If it weren't for being frightened by Link's cold gaze just now, he would have wanted to grab Link by the collar and shake him fiercely, asking if he knew who Holyfield was.

Evander Holyfield, following Tyson, was the most successful Heavyweight Boxer in both honor and business, a four-time WBA Heavyweight champion, three-time IBF Heavyweight champion, and three-time WBC Heavyweight champion, making him the second Boxer after Ali to win the World Heavyweight title three times.

Being Holyfield is the dream of all Boxers, but in Link's mouth, is it merely "only"?

"Someone is crazy! Someone is truly insane!"

Mario muttered softly as he looked up at the ceiling of the train.

Franco Duvall looked at Link with a strange expression, feeling that this young man might have let the extensive media hype get to his head after defeating a dozen opponents, to the point where he didn't even regard Holyfield highly.

He still smiled politely and asked in a even more courteous tone, "Link, can you let me know what your career plan is, or what you think is the most valuable thing about you?"

"Of course!"

Link smiled, curling his lip. Merely claiming that he would be better than Holyfield in the future was boasting, something that could make others scoff disdainfully, and that was not his intention at all.

He pointed at the fruit basket on the table, saying, "Since the early last century, Boxing began its commercialization, and the Heavyweight class has always been the most profitable. However, in recent years, it hasn't been lucrative, especially in the North American market.

Due to the lack of a Heavyweight Boxer to anchor the events, smaller Boxers like Mayweather, Roy Jones, De La Hoyle, and Pacquiao have started splitting the market that formerly belonged to the Heavyweights.

Why is that? Because in North America, you can't find someone to replace George Foreman, Tyson, Holyfield, and others who can continue to draw in the audience and pay for the Boxing matches.

If someone now could unify the four major organizations in the Heavyweight class and reclaim the Heavyweight market and audience, would you be willing to sign them for 100 million US Dollars?

I think you definitely wouldn't miss this opportunity.

With such a person, your company could make tens or hundreds of billions in the future, what's 100 million US Dollars compared to that? And I am just such a person."

Before Franco Duvall could speak, he raised his palm, politely stopping the other man from talking, "Since the forties and fifties, most Boxers active in the ring have been people of color like Ali, Tyson, Holyfield, Mayweather, and Roy Jones.

But my arrival will break that pattern. My goal is to unify all the world titles and Golden Belts of the five major ranks from the four big organizations. How can Holyfield compare to me?"

Link looked intensely at Franco Duvall, "The Boxing world is about to undergo earth-shattering changes, and I am the man who will change it.

100 million US Dollars! Mr. Duvall, this is the friendly price I'm offering considering I appreciate your sincerity and respect for old Mr. Duvall. Is it too much?"

Franco Duvall dabbed the sweat on his forehead with a patterned handkerchief.

If saying that he didn't regard Holyfield highly was like floating on air, then claiming he was about to reclaim the Heavyweight market and bring change to the North American Boxing scene was like a thunderbolt from the blue, making his scalp numb.

Even Ali, Tyson, and Holyfield wouldn't dare say such a thing, how could an amateur Boxer like him?

But after giving Link's words some thought, despite the boasting, it wasn't without possibility.

The North American Boxing scene is experiencing a gap, especially in the most lucrative Heavyweight class. With Tyson, Holyfield, and those champions aging, the new Heavyweight champions generally lack strength. Even if they can dominate domestically, they quickly revert to their true form when confronted with international opponents, offering little investment and training value.

If someone really could emerge capable of unifying the four major organization's Heavyweight Golden Belts, this person would undoubtedly have immense commercial value.

If that person is a good-looking light-skinned Boxer, then their commercial value would be immeasurable.

100 million US Dollars really isn't much.

But is that person Link?

Link is just a newcomer less than ten days into his career, a newborn baby even. Even though he is very strong, who can ensure he remains so?

The difference between promotional companies and the folks on Wall Street is that they invest in specific 'people'."

When the investment involved "people," the variables were too great, and so were the risks.

Making investment decisions often required tremendous courage.

"From ancient times, those who dared to take risks were often the ones who got the biggest piece of the cake.

Mr. Duvall, although what I just said might sound crazy, I'm going to prove with my fists that my words are not just boasting."

"And you, you're facing a choice, continue being a spectator, marveling or regretting my achievements in the future, or bet early, become my partner, and we'll share the cake together. The choice is in your hands."

Link picked up a citrus fruit and handed it to Franco Duvall.

Franco Duvall looked at the citrus in his hand, stayed silent without speaking, but furrowed his brows.

Mario dumbly watched Link. He could barely keep up with what he was saying before, but Link's later words sounded like the ramblings of a madman, making his head spin.

What he couldn't understand was why Mr. Franco Duvall, a well-known figure in the promotion industry, upon hearing Link's crazy talk, did not slap him but instead listened very seriously?!

He didn't know if he was the one who was abnormal or if the world had gone mad.

The train arrived at Miami station, and Link woke up West, who had fallen asleep again, gathered their luggage, and prepared to get off.

"Mr. Link Baker, your statement is very interesting; we will seriously consider your proposal. Good luck in the finals!"

Franco Duvall said, extending his hand.

"Great!"

Link said, smiling as he shook hands.

----

"Link is here!"

As Link and his party appeared at the train station, dozens of media reporters, having heard the news, surged toward him. Among them were Miami Business TV, "Miami Forum News," "American Express," and "Beach Illustrated."

Media and fans alike were groups that needed constant maintenance and serious engagement.

Link's goal was to become a boxing superstar, a boxer with tremendous commercial potential, which meant frequent interactions with the media.

Although they were sometimes annoying and lacked integrity, if handled properly, the positive impact they brought definitely outweighed the trouble they caused.

Link stayed in the plaza in front of Miami station for over ten minutes, answering more than twenty questions about the competition and his personal life, fully satisfying the curiosity and writing needs of the reporters before they graciously let him go.

"Hey, Link, over here!"

Across the street from the station plaza, Fat James rode a small motorcycle, waving excitedly at him.

Link said goodbye to West and the others, crossed the traffic, and walked to the other side of the street. He looked at the small motorcycle under James's buttocks, a Honda Rebel, and pointed with his index finger, "I return from the battlefield laden with honors, and you greet me with this little thing?"

"What's wrong? What else should I use to pick you up if not this? Are you afraid it won't fit? No worries, I'll scoot forward a bit."

James said, shifting his bottom forward. The little motorcycle creaked alarmingly under his weight, looking pitiable.

Link covered his forehead. He had just been discussing business worth hundreds of millions of dollars on the train, thinking he was a big shot, only to ride a small motorcycle home after getting off, feeling like he was dreaming.

Well, since there's no sports car available, he might as well settle for this without complaining.

He stretched his long legs, squeezed onto the back of the small motorcycle, which promptly sank downwards with a creak.

James started the engine, and the small motorcycle roared and belched black smoke as it joined the busy traffic flow.

The photographers quickly raised their cameras, aiming at Link on the small motorcycle and pressing the shutter a few times.

Click! Click!