Elijah continued.
“Three older boys cornered him. Leonard fought back. One of them pulled a knife.”
Adrian swallowed.
“What happened?”
“Elijah pointed toward his own left wrist.
“This.”
The scar.
Adrian looked.
“The knife cut him?”
“Yes.”
“And Leonard?”
“He ran.”
Adrian stared.
“Ran?”
“Yes.”
“Wouldn't that make him a coward?”
Elijah looked directly at him.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because surviving is not cowardice.”
Adrian was quiet.
Elijah continued.
“Leonard came back the next morning. He expected me to call him weak.”
“But you didn't.”
“No.”
“What did you say?”
Elijah smiled.
“I said, 'Good. You learned to run.'”
Adrian laughed softly.
“That sounds like you.”
“It was the right answer.”
“What happened after?”
“He trained.”
“How long?”
“Years.”
“And eventually he became a champion.”
Elijah nodded.
“He became a man.”
Adrian looked at him.
“What's the difference?”
Elijah picked up the screwdriver.
“A champion learns how to beat people.”
He tightened a loose screw.
“A man learns when he shouldn't.”
That sentence stayed with Adrian.
More than any combination.
More than any knockout.
Because six weeks remained before the biggest fight of his life.
And suddenly, Adrian began wondering whether he had been preparing for the wrong opponent.
Marcus Reddick
Marcus Reddick was undefeated.
Twenty-three wins.
Seventeen knockouts.
Six feet one.
A southpaw.
Heavy hands.
Patient.
Mean when necessary.
The sports networks had already begun calling the upcoming fight "The Midwest Collision."
Adrian hated the nickname.
Marcus didn't.
At the official press conference, Marcus smiled across the stage.
“Adrian's fast.”
The reporter asked:
“Is that a concern?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because speed gets tired.”
Adrian leaned toward the microphone.
“Power gets predictable.”
Marcus smiled.
“Then we'll see.”
The room applauded.
Afterward, Coach Harris pulled Adrian aside.
“You're thinking too much.”
Adrian frowned.
“I thought you wanted me to think.”
“I want you to think in the ring.”
“What does that mean?”
“Stop trying to prove you're better.”
Adrian sighed.
“I'm fighting.”
“No.”
Harris looked at him.
“You're fighting yourself.”
Adrian said nothing.
Harris continued.
“Every time someone doubts you, you try to punish them.”
“That isn't true.”
“It is.”
Adrian looked away.
Harris lowered his voice.
“You did it to Elijah.”
Adrian froze.
“I wasn't trying to hurt him.”
“No.”
“You said light.”
“You listened.”
“So what's the problem?”
“You spent three rounds trying to prove an old man couldn't touch you.”
Adrian had no answer.
Harris put a hand on his shoulder.
“Marcus will notice.”
Adrian looked at him.
“What do you mean?”
“Marcus wants you angry.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know his trainer.”
Adrian laughed.
“That's it?”
“No.”
Harris looked toward the ring.
“Elijah knows too.”
The Lesson
The next afternoon, Elijah asked Adrian to spar again.
Adrian agreed.
No audience.
No jokes.
No challenge.
Just gloves.
They stood in Ring One.
Elijah raised his guard.
“Show me your best round.”
Adrian hesitated.
“All of it?”
“All of it.”
Adrian attacked.
Jab.
Cross.
Hook.
Body shot.
Elijah defended.
Adrian increased speed.
Elijah moved.
Adrian cut the ring.
Elijah pivoted.
Adrian trapped him against the ropes.
Elijah smiled.
“Good.”
Adrian threw.
Elijah slipped.
Adrian missed.
Elijah stepped behind him.
Adrian turned.
Elijah touched his back.
“Dead.”
Adrian laughed.
“Again.”
They went again.
And again.
After twenty minutes, Adrian was exhausted.
Elijah was breathing hard but steady.
They sat on opposite stools.
Adrian removed his gloves.
“How?”
Elijah drank coffee.
“How what?”
“How do you always know?”
“I don't.”
“Yes, you do.”
Elijah shook his head.
“You think fighting is prediction.”
“Isn't it?”
“No.”
“What is it?”
“Recognition.”
Adrian waited.
“You recognize habits.”
Elijah pointed.
“You drop your left hand after a hard right.”
Adrian looked at his hand.
“You step too wide when you're tired.”
Another point.
“You hold your breath when you get frustrated.”
Adrian smiled.
“That's ridiculous.”
Elijah looked at him.
“Do it.”
Adrian became still.
He realized he had stopped breathing.
Elijah smiled.
“Exactly.”
Adrian shook his head.
“You've been watching me.”
“Everyone should watch themselves.”
Elijah leaned forward.
“Your opponent isn't your biggest threat.”
“Then what is?”
“Your habits.”
The Night Everything Changed
Three weeks before the fight, Adrian's world collapsed.
During a late sparring session, he threw a right hand.
His opponent slipped.
Adrian's fist hit the top of the opponent's shoulder.
Pain exploded through his right hand.
He stepped back.
Coach Harris immediately stopped the session.
“Don't move.”
Adrian looked down.
His hand was swelling.
The doctor came.
X-rays followed.
Fracture.
Not catastrophic.
But enough.
The doctor gave him the answer he dreaded.
“No fighting for at least four weeks.”
Adrian stared at him.
The fight was in twenty-one days.
“No.”
The doctor shook his head.
“You need rest.”
“No.”
“Adrian.”
“I can fight.”
“You can't safely.”
Adrian left the room furious.
He threw his bag into the locker.
“This is over.”
Harris said nothing.
Adrian kicked the bench.
“I'm done.”
Elijah appeared at the doorway.
He had heard everything.
Adrian looked at him.
“Don't.”
Elijah entered.
“You're hurt.”
“I know.”
“You're scared.”
Adrian glared.
“I'm not scared.”
Elijah sat.
“You're terrified.”
Adrian clenched his jaw.
“I trained for this for a year.”
“Yes.”
“I can't lose this opportunity.”
“You might.”
Adrian looked away.
Elijah waited.
Then he said:
“You're finally learning.”
“Learning what?”
“That sometimes the bravest thing a fighter can do is refuse the fight.”
Adrian stared at him.
“That sounds like quitting.”
“No.”
Elijah's voice hardened.
“Quitting is walking away because you don't believe you can win.”
He pointed at Adrian's injured hand.
“This is accepting that winning tonight may cost you tomorrow.”