Chapter 76: Got into a Fight

Thud, thud ~ thud, thud ~

On the boxing ring, Richard was wearing boxing gloves, doing offense and defense training. He held his hands up on either side of his head, adopting a strictly defensive posture.

Opposite him, Mayweather was relentlessly throwing punches, his fists like cannonballs, fiercely pounding Richard's defensive stance with speed, precision, and power. 

Whenever Richard's defense showed the slightest gap, Mayweather's fists would immediately surge forward, launching a series of continuous attacks. However, Richard's defense was solid. His arms were strong, his footwork nimble, and his reaction speed fast, making it difficult for Mayweather to break through his defenses quickly.

After sparring for over half an hour, enduring hundreds of attacks, Richard's arms had grown numb from the hits, and his abdomen had taken a few blows. He stepped back a few paces, shaking out his arms.

"Mayweather, it's my turn to attack now."

"So soon?" 

Mayweather wiped the sweat off his face and paused, "Go easy on me. Your punches are getting heavier."

"Got it, I'll be gentle!"

"Damn it!"

Mayweather swung his fist, taking the first shot.

"Haha, you're not playing by the rules!"

Richard raised his left hand to block and launched a fierce attack with his right.

Thud, thud ~ thud, thud ~

The two of them were at it again, fighting with great intensity.

"Stop staring! Get moving!"

From below the ring, Alvin shouted at six teenagers, "A thousand hits each, keep count. If you slack off on even this, just quit boxing."

"Got it!"

The six apprentices responded in unison and started hitting the punching bags.

"Coach Alvin, how long does it take to become as good as Richard?" 

Newcomer Jim Morales asked.

Alvin raised an eyebrow. That was a tough question to answer. Becoming as skilled as Richard required years of relentless training, along with talent, intelligence, determination, and a robust physical constitution. For someone like Jim, who grew up in a wealthy family, achieving that level would be very difficult.

"Don't rush. Train consistently. Richard and Mayweather both started training around the age of ten, practicing every day. If you want to be as good as them, you need to train daily and persistently. You'll catch up to them someday."

Alvin said.

"I understand."

Jim nodded seriously and began hitting the punching bag with a thud, thud ~ 

"Jim, mind your rhythm. Your legs and feet need to work with your punches. Keep your body from being too stiff, like when you jump rope."

Alvin reminded him.

Jim awkwardly started moving his feet, his actions a bit clumsy.

Alvin observed but said nothing more. Coordination of hands and feet took time and needed continuous practice and adjustments based on individual progress.

"Ugh~, morning Alvin!"

Paul walked into the gym, yawning.

"Why are you so late today?"

Alvin frowned.

"There was a company party last night, and they invited me. I couldn't say no."

Paul spread his hands, looking helpless.

"Hold on!"

Alvin stepped closer and took a sniff, "Did you drink?"

"No, no!"

Paul quickly stepped back, fanning the air with his hand.

"You think my nose is fake?"

Alvin said, his face darkening.

"Heh, last night at the party, I had a few whiskeys."

"A few? With such a strong smell, lingering even after a night, how much did you actually drink?"

Alvin demanded.

"Ten or so drinks!"

Paul scratched the back of his head, lowering it. The party last night was lively, with over ten fellow boxers and a bunch of girls serving drinks. He ended up drinking dozens of glasses.

"Hmph, I've said before, you can drink but not binge. You're athletes; drinking too much is highly damaging to your cardiovascular system. If you want to get killed in the ring one day, go ahead and drink more."

"Alvin, I was wrong!"

Paul said, head down.

Alvin stared at him for a minute, making Paul increasingly uneasy.

"Alvin, I know I was wrong. I won't drink excessively again."

Paul said.

Alvin sighed, "Go run two laps around the park's outer track. Come back and train after you're done."

"Okay!"

Paul walked out, crestfallen. The park was huge; running two laps would exhaust him.

"You six, listen up. When training for boxing, talent and physical strength aren't the most important. What's crucial is diligence and persistence."

"Take Paul, for example. His talent and physical condition were the best, even better than Richard's. But he often slacks off and doesn't train properly. Now, he's falling further behind Richard..."

Paul almost cried hearing this. Missing just one morning, how did he become the negative example? It was too disheartening.

---

After a few more days of training, the first round of the WBC Championship Tournament began. Richard and his team went to Chicago, each participating in a match.

Richard's opponent was a veteran in his thirties. After a grueling eight-round battle, Richard KO'd his opponent, successfully winning his seventh match of the first round.

His professional record now stood at 7 wins, all victories, 5 by KO, and he ranked 362 in his weight class.

Mayweather also won his match, extending his unbeaten streak to 16 wins, bringing him closer to the championship belt.

Paul, however, was less fortunate. He faced British star Vance Adams, enduring twelve rounds before ultimately losing by decision, marking his first career defeat.

The media didn't harshly criticize Paul for this loss. Firstly, Vance Adams was exceptionally strong, having once contended for the championship belt against Lennox Lewis. Secondly, Paul had changed his coaching team, and the new team was still finding its rhythm.

The media believed that both sides needed an adjustment period and remained optimistic about Paul's future.

But after returning to New York, Paul became very downcast, spending all his time in the gym, constantly training.

"Paul, don't be too discouraged. In boxing, losing is normal. Ali, Lewis, Tyson, Holyfield—who hasn't lost? You still have five more matches in the first round. If you perform well, you still have a chance to make it to the semi-finals."

Richard tried to comfort him.

Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud!

Paul didn't respond, just kept hitting the mitts.

"Don't bother comforting him. Losing makes one more clear-headed, allowing them to see their own shortcomings. This defeat might help Paul become more focused and avoid mistakes in the future."

Alvin said.

Richard shrugged, "I think it wasn't Paul's fault this time. His coach made a mistake. Seeing that the opponent was a veteran, he told Paul to go all out from the start. But the opponent's defense was solid, and Paul wasted a lot of energy, leading to his poor performance in the later rounds."

"That's his own problem too. If I told you to go all out and win in two rounds, would you do it?"

Alvin asked.

Richard chuckled lightly, "Probably not. When to win depends on the opponent's ability and performance, not the coach's orders."

"Exactly. A boxer can't just blindly follow orders. They need to have a plan in their own mind. Otherwise, what's the difference between them and a robot?"

"True!"

In the afternoon, Richard left the gym and went to Manhattan to watch a Calvin Klein fashion show, in which Bündchen was participating.

After the show, Richard got into a fight backstage.

It started when a flashy guy tried to invite Bündchen to a party, and she declined. Feeling humiliated, he made some rude comments. Richard didn't hold back, tossing the guy out, leaving him in a sorry state.

"Richard, don't do that again. I've dealt with people like that many times. I can handle it, or I can turn to my agent or the company. You don't need to get involved."

In the car, Bündchen frowned.

"So what if I do? You think I'm scared? I don't care if he's a millionaire, multimillionaire, or billionaire. I'll treat them the same way. Sweetheart, if anything like this happens again and you can't handle it, leave it to me."

Richard said as he drove.

"That's not what I mean. I just think it wasn't that serious. You didn't need to hit him."

"I thought it was necessary. You're my girlfriend. If someone disrespects you in front of me, and I don't react, am I still a man? And I'm a boxer. If I can't protect you, what's the point of boxing?"

Richard said, annoyed.

Bündchen didn't reply, just quietly watched him.

"What? Are you mad?"

Richard touched her cheek. "I'm telling you, I didn't do anything wrong today. Even if you're mad, it won't change anything. I'll still react the same way next time."

"Stop the car!"

Bündchen suddenly shouted.

"What? There's no parking spot here."

"Just stop the car!"

Bündchen shouted again.

"Alright, alright!"

Richard pulled over to the side of the road. "What's—" before he could finish, Bündchen lunged at him, hugging his neck and kissing him passionately.

"What's going on?"

Richard held her shoulders, puzzled.

Bündchen, blushing, breathlessly said, "Nothing, I just felt like kissing you. Is that okay?"

"Haha, of course!"

Richard wrapped his arms around her waist, returning her kiss.

Knock,

 knock, knock~

After a while, a traffic cop tapped on the window. Richard let go of her, took a ticket through the window.

"Look, twenty dollars gone just like that."

Richard said, holding the ticket.

"Haha, I'm happy and willing to do it. Sweetheart, let's go home quickly."

Bündchen shook his shoulders, laughing.

"OK, let's go home and have some fun!"

"Ugh, you perv!"

Richard laughed heartily, driving off towards Manhattan.