I throw another left hook and a right hook that connects with Carey’s face, but he swings his arm around me to keep from stumbling back. “Get off me!” I growl over my mouth guard, punching his shoulder with my right glove, but he pushes me across the mat into the corner.
“That’s holding!” Tristan and Miles shout in unison. “He’s holding!” Tris yells again.
Carey punches me several times, hitting my shoulder and neck and jaw, so I go to body shots, hitting his ribs a few times, before the referee pulls us apart.
“Get off, get off.” The ref pushes Carey across the mat and I follow him back to the center of the ring. “You good?” he asks me, and I nod.
I take my stance in front of Carey and square my tense shoulders.
“He’s no champ!” Miles shouts, and Carey smiles over his mouth guard. He takes a swing, but I dodge it.
“There you go,” Tris says, circling the outside of the ring with me. “Keep moving those feet, keep moving, Sam! Move your head.” Carey punches left and I miss it. “Good!”
He dodges my right hook, but I inch closer and throw a hard left hook that smacks the side of his face and resonates through my arm all the way up to my shoulder. Carey stumbles back, but I stay on him.
“Apply that pressure, Sam! Apply the pressure,” Tris shouts at me, and I feel the energy from the crowd behind him buzzing through the arena. But Carey comes back with a fast right hook that connects with my face, and it pauses the world around me for a second. I blink as the arena comes rushing back into my ears, but Carey’s glove connects with my face again.
“Come on, Sam! Watch his right!”
I move my feet and watch him circle me.
“You can’t beat me!” he screams through the blood and sweat pouring down his face.
The bell rings in my ears over my pounding heart.
I don’t believe it! I don’t think anyone thought we’d see twelve rounds tonight…Both fighters look tired…Carey Valentine definitely looks worse off with that cut over his eye, but I don’t think he’s ready to give up yet…Can you blame him? He’s got a lot to prove…So does Sam. A whole career and a much talked about retirement. He is not going to go quietly into the night…Maybe Carey was a little too confident agreeing to this match.
Tristan climbs into my corner and crouches in front of me while Mikey gives me water. “You’ve got to punch and get out of the way, Sam. Just keep moving.”
“What do you think I’ve been trying to do all night?”
“Yeah, well, just keep doing it. Stay focused. This is the last one, okay? This is it. This is your moment. Now you get back up and you take it. Don’t let him steal it from you, you take it! Take it for me and Lucy and your baby. Take it for Joe.”
Sam, Eight Months Earlier
“Sam, what’s eatin’ ya?” Joe asks, watching me hit the speed bag.
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
“You’ve said three words all morning. You’re not fine.” He sips his coffee from a paper cup. “Did I do something?”
I stop hitting the bag and look at him. “No, Joe, you didn’t do anything. I’m sorry. I just have a lot on my mind.”
“So I noticed.” He raises his thick eyebrows and asks, “Are you going to tell me what it is?”
I drop my head and catch my breath for a few seconds. “Lucy’s pregnant.”
His eyes widen a little, but he does his best to hide his shock. “She’s pregnant?”
I bring my gloves up and begin hitting the speed bag again. “Yeah. She found out last week.”
He nods and sips his coffee again. “Well, that’s…a surprise.”
“Yep.” I keep hitting the bag.
“Is it a good surprise?” he asks carefully, and I drop my gloves again.
“Yeah…it is.”
The corners of his mouth turn down and he gives me a concerned look. “But you’re worried.”
“Well, yeah. I mean, I’m happy about it, I really am,” I say, smiling over the worry that’s consumed my every thought I’ve had since I found out. “I’ve always wanted kids with her. But now that it’s happening, I’m just, freaking out a little. I don’t know anything about being a father. I guess I’m just worried that I’ll mess it up somehow.”
He walks over to a chair and sits down. “You remember your first match?”
“My first amateur match?” I ask, sitting next to him.
“Yeah, what was his name? Pritchett something?”
“Danny Pritchett.” I nod over a small frown. “I hated that kid.”
“You were scared of that kid,” he clarifies.
“Yeah.” I laugh. “I was.”
“You were scared of him because he was good. He was really good.”
“Yeah, way to take it easy on me for my first match.”
“I put you up against him, because I knew you were better than he was. You just didn’t know it yet.”
“I won that match.”
“Yeah, and almost every other one after it.” He holds his head back and turns his palms up. “Now look at you.”
“So what are you saying? I was scared for no reason?”
“No, you had good reason. Everyone was scared of that kid.” He laughs. “Just like every parent is afraid of screwing up. It’s normal to have doubts about becoming a father, Sam, but…I think this kid is pretty damn lucky.”
“You do?”
He puts his hand on my shoulder and says, “You’re going to be a great father, Sam.”
I smile and hold my glove out. “Well, I’ve had a pretty great role model.”
He smiles and hits my glove with his fist. “Come on, Rocky, we’ve got work to do.”
* * *
“Protect yourself, Sam! Keep those hands up,” Tristan shouts from beside the ring.
I bring my shoulder up to my ear and block a punch that Carey throws at me.
Look at that defense. I’ll tell you, this is the work of Sam’s longtime trainer—and coach tonight—Tristan Kelley, who worked alongside Joe Maloney for years.
“Good! Good!” Tristan shouts.
Carey punches me again and I fire back with a strong right hook.
“Protect yourself!”
“Finish him, Sam, finish him!” Miles screams.
I throw a left hook and uppercut to his ribs, pushing Carey back against the ropes, but he pivots and gets around me, pushing me against them instead.
“Get off the rope! Get off the rope!”
He punches me hard and the arena goes quiet again.
Come on, Sam, Joe growls in my ear, show him the lion inside you.
I push off the ropes with a loud roar. “Ahhhh,” I yell, hitting Carey hard.
It’s a fight to the finish…Sam Cole is firing away.
“Yeah, baby,” Miles screams. “Show him who the real champ is!”
“Southpaw, Sam, southpaw!” Tristan screams, and I pull my left arm back, releasing it with all the power I’ve got left.
Southpaw uppercut and Valentine goes down!
The mat shakes under my feet and the ref runs over and begins counting over Carey. One…two…three…four…