boxer to hollywood

Whoosh! Link's fist grazed Andrzej's chin.

"Wow!" A sigh rose from the audience.

"Link's arms are a bit short. Andrzej is taller and dodges faster," West said regretfully.

Andrzej's manager wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and breathed a sigh of relief.

Only several reporters at the scene remained suspicious. Before the match, they received a call from a concerned audience member, claiming that Link and Andrzej had a secret deal to fix the match. Could Link's missed punch be intentional?

With doubts in their minds, the reporters stared at the boxing ring, trying to find evidence of Link throwing the fight.

On the ring, Link and Andrzej exchanged blows, attacking and defending, hitting each other's vital parts, putting on a spectacular show.

The audience cheered excitedly, shouting and cheering for both of them.

From the first round to the sixth round, they maintained this state, fighting neck and neck, fully demonstrating their superb offensive and defensive boxing skills.

But the reporters sensed something was wrong. With Link's strength and speed, it wouldn't be difficult to knock out the "thin" Andrzej. But after six rounds, there was no KO, only a few times when Andrzej was knocked down onto the ropes or corner posts.

This was clearly not Link's style.

The reporters suspected that the tip-off call was real and that Link and Andrzej were fixing the match.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

On the ring, by the eighth round, both of them were drenched in sweat, their punches often carrying sweat, but the match was still exciting. They threw punches at high speed, frequently hitting each other's head and torso, and often using quick punches, making the fight sound like a drumbeat.

The audience was thrilled, and the cheers rose and fell.

"KO, why no KO?"

"It looks exciting, but with Link's skill, the match shouldn't be like this."

"What is Link doing?"

Even without the mysterious person's tip-off, the promoters, who were regulars at the ring, also sensed something was amiss by the eighth round. The match seemed a bit off.

"Boss, I got news that Link seems to be throwing the fight," the assistant whispered to Greg Cohen. "It's from the reporters. Someone told them that Link and Andrzej might have a private deal."

"Is that so? What does he want to do?"

Greg Cohen stared at Link on the stage, suddenly sneered, and said, "Make money? Humph, he turned down twenty million and went for that little money? He's really not smart. Go contact the media and release the news of Link Baker fixing the match."

"Yes, boss!"

"Wait, what's going on with Franco Duva?"

"Boss, Mr. Franco Duva seems to have had some unpleasant exchanges with Mr. Duva Sr. Mr. Duva Jr. has already returned to New York on American Airlines at noon, leaving only his assistant Simon in Miami."

Greg Cohen heard this and smiled with satisfaction. Everything was going according to his plan.

Compared to the top promotion companies' internal competitive mechanism of "the capable rise, the mediocre fall," the family-style management model implemented by the main event promotion company seemed too outdated.

Lou Duva was cautious and autocratic. With more than a dozen world-class and intercontinental champions like Holyfield, he would never agree to Duva Jr.'s proposal to sign an amateur boxer with a big contract.

Duva Jr.'s trip was destined to be in vain.

Greg Cohen looked at Link on the stage, clenched his fists, and smiled confidently.

"Go, Link, go!"

"Link is the champion!"

"Go, Andrzej, go!"

In the audience, the spectators had been shouting for eight rounds, their voices almost hoarse. But so what? Watching two boxing masters compete live was far more exciting than dancing in a bar or singing in karaoke.

The boxers at the scene also watched the match with wide eyes, observing their every move, the brilliant attacks, defenses, dodges, and counterattacks. It was like watching a live instructional video by two boxing masters.

"No way, Andrzej is so thin, I could take him down with one punch. Link has been playing with him for nine rounds? Did he really take drugs? His punches are so weak," Mario said, propping his face up and watching the match boredly.

"Isn't this exciting? Why do you want them to end it early?"

Reggie watched the match with great interest.

West, sitting next to him, was filming the fight with a handheld camera, planning to take it back for the apprentices at the gym to watch and learn.

"But don't you think it's abnormal? With Link's skill, the match shouldn't be like this. There's something wrong," Mario said.

"There is a problem, but I understand Link," Reggie said, looking at Link with admiration in his eyes.

Mario's eyes widened. He couldn't understand what was there to admire. Was Reggie's admiration misplaced?

"Don't you believe it?" Reggie turned back and smiled. "If you encountered a boxer with great technique on the ring, wouldn't you fight a few more rounds with him to hone your skills?"

Mario looked at his sandbag-sized fists. "No, I would just knock him down with one punch."

Reggie shook his head and sighed. "This is the difference between us and Link. We only think about defeating our opponents quickly and winning the match, but he thinks about what he can gain from the match. This is why he keeps getting stronger because he's not only strong but also diligent, hardworking, and eager to learn. We should all learn from him."

Reggie looked at Link with admiration, his eyes shining.

Mario was about to go crazy. "That's not it at all, okay? He's clearly throwing the fight."

"Shut up! Mario, you can insult me, but please don't insult Link, okay?" Reggie said angrily, clenching his fists.

Mario opened his mouth. For the first time in his twenty-two years of life, he felt that there might be something wrong with this world.

â€"

"West, don't you think there's something wrong with this match? Link is throwing the fight."

Mario found West, an honest old man. Mario believed he wouldn't lie.

"So what?" West asked, holding his handheld video camera.

Mario was stunned and looked at the old man in disbelief. "Link is throwing the fight, and you say so what?!"

"Yes, Link and Andrzej have fought for nine rounds, and Link has had the absolute advantage in eight of them. He could win by points alone. You know, Andrzej's technique is among the best in the amateur boxing world. Link can defeat him without using heavy punches or relying on his strong physique, just with his technique. This shows that Link has no weaknesses in boxing. He's a perfect boxer, and this match proves it."

West stroked his chin stubble with a satisfied smile.

"But he's throwing the fight!" Mario shouted angrily.

"Shut up!!"

"Link didn't deliberately lose to Andrzej, so how can you say he's throwing the fight? Don't say such things again."

West said with a frown, clearly displeased.

Mario returned to his seat dejectedly, propping his face up and looking at the sky, convinced that there was indeed something wrong with this world.

â€"(End of Chapter)â€"