“You got tail on the brain! I can see in your eyes you’re hiding something from me. Running round the streets like a damn dog in heat when you should be focused on your training! You know that Creed’s the world heavyweight champion, right? And all you can think about is some chick...”
“Who you talking about? Can’t you see me working here? You saw me grinding in that meat locker.”
“Listen to me! That ain’t how we do things. You forget about this chick and you train! This fight could land you a hundred and fifty thousand dollars! Apollo Creed is a great fighter. He’s got the power, the agility, the experience...”
“Calm down Mickey! One thing at a time, huh? What chick are you talking about? I ain’t seeing nobody, I'm training for the fight. Why you gotta be so stubborn?”
“Me, stubborn?! I agreed to train you, to be your manager! Now we gotta make up for lost time. You been wastin’ your talent for a long time. You listen you me and you could light up that ring. Make the crowd love you. You could be a legend!”
Heavyweight champion Apollo Creed had announced he would be holding a fight to celebrate the bicentenary of the USA. Unfortunately, his rival had suffered a wrist injury and no-one was available to challenge him. No-one, that is, except this guy they called Rocky, who was willing to throw his hat in the ring for a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Rocky worked as muscle for a loan shark, and trained at a small gym in a working-class neighbourhood in Philadelphia. All the local fans knew him. Rocky trained hard for long hours, but it had taken time for Rocky to convince his coach to train him. Mickey was hard-headed, an old-school kind of fighter. Right now Rocky wasn’t training enough; there was something on his mind – a woman, no doubt. A good coach could tell straightaway when there was something lagging; Mickey could feel it in his punches, hear it in his breathing. Rocky didn’t want to lie, but it was true that there was a woman.
“Mickey, I gotta tell you something...” he went on.
“I knew you was hiding something!” growled Mickey.
“I ain’t hiding nothing, I just wanted to tell you man to man. I’m sorta...seeing...”
“Seeing?!”
“Yeah, dating this woman. She works part-time down at the pet store, J&M Tropical Fish. I like her. I like her a lot, actually.”
“This chick got a name?” asked Mickey.
“Her name’s Adrian. She says she’s behind me for the training, and the big fight.”
“Well, I look forward to meeting this Adrian. I'll bet she’s a real catch. Alright, now that you’ve cleared your conscience let’s get back to training. Maybe she can join the team.”
“Sure thing, Mickey,” Rocky went on proudly.
The boxing gym had become Rocky’s place of worship, where he and the other fighters hammered out their prayers. There were posters on all the walls announcing his upcoming heavyweight bout with Apollo Creed. Rocky had no chance of beating him, but therein was the spirit and glory of the sport. The gym’s four rings were already occupied, filling the hall with the sound of gloves against bags and pads, the grunting and panting, the squeak of their shoes. Here was where boxers were at home, and Rocky loved it here. He could forget himself in this place, and when he got going Mickey had trouble holding him back. “Softly now, preserve your strength!” he repeated. Rocky admired Muhammad Ali, AKA Cassius Clay, who had won the gold medal at the Olympics in Rome. You had to wear your opponent down. It wasn’t about who hit harder, but who hit better and could land them just right. “Keep moving in circles, and keep your guard up!” Mickey barked at his student.
Alan Alfredo Geday
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