Rest day was still spent at Southside. I’d have gone crazy just sitting in the hotel room, but the gym kept me centered and calm. Samuel taped fights almost religiously, and so we all spent most the day holed up in a tiny little room at the back of the gym watching Temple fight. I only hoped he hadn’t switched it up like I was going to.
“How are you feeling?” Em asked me that night. It was the last time I’d speak to her before the fight.
“Good,” I told her honestly. “Confident. There’s kind of a buzz like there is back home. You’d like it here.”
“You probably won’t want to work out after the fight but maybe I could come with you to see the place and meet a few of the guys?” she suggested.
Just the thought of having her there made me smile. “I’d like that.” I said.
How did today’s exam go?” I asked, and I could see her grin as she replied, “Good, I think. There were a couple of questions that I was nervous about but I worked through them when I got home, and I’m happier now with my answers.”
“You all set for tomorrow?” I asked about her morning flight.
“Are you kidding? My bag’s been packed for nearly a week. There’s no way that I’m not going to be on that plane, I promise.”
“Don’t say that. Anything could happen to stop you getting here. Look at all the shit with the weather.”
“Baby,” she said, and I could hear the laughter in her voice, “how many times today have you checked that my flight is still listed?”
I didn’t want to answer her because I knew she’d laugh. I mumbled into the phone.
“Cormac,” she pressed. Which kind of shocked me because she never called me that.
“Fine. Fourteen!” I admitted. She did actually laugh at me. I needed to hear that sound in person.
“I will be on that flight, O’Connell, I promise. The snow is almost completely gone here.”
“How are you getting to Heathrow?” I asked, worrying about her even now.
“Albie offered to drive me to the airport,” she said.
“I made sure there’s a car service at the airport to meet your flight. Earnshaw told me they’ll hold up one of those signs with your name on it. Show them your ID when you get here and they’ll bring you straight to the guys, okay?” Shit, I sounded so fucking nervous.
“O’Connell” she said to me.
“Yeah,” I answered huskily.
“You’ve got this. When you get in that ring tomorrow, know that I’m on my way to you that very minute, and I want you to fight like I’m right in front of you. You’ve been training for this, so show me what my husband is made of.”
Just like that, all the nerves and bullshit fell away, and I knew this fucking fight was mine. Now it was time to show the rest of the world that too.
* * *
Fight day, like every morning here, was bright and clear, and I itched to go for a run. Kieran and the rest of the guys were in Odell’s diner, stuffing down the American version of a full English fried breakfast. When I got back, I knew I was gonna sweet talk Kieran’s ma into cooking me up a full Irish breakfast, soda bread and all.
Tommy questioned why I wasn’t going along. They all knew I couldn’t eat with them but guessed I’d want the company. Kieran knew better. He tossed me his headphones and iPod on the way out and left me watching Leon and his boys sparring. The music drowned out everything, and I let my head get where it needed to be. To a place it most definitely hadn’t been during the exhibition match. Temple’s cocky scowl was burned into my brain, and I knew, based on my last performance and the shit he’d been saying about me lately, he thought had this in the bag.
As I looked around Southside, I realized just how different Temple and I were. Sure, we were from opposite sides of the world, but both of us came from poor families and boxing had elevated us. What made us different was what we did when we got to the top. Temple surrounded himself with his “crew” as he liked to call them.
As far as I could tell, they were yes-men who changed from week to week. Sure he had a longtime trainer, like I had Danny, but the rest of them came and went. He was renowned in his downtime for attending clubs, celebrity parties, and high-profile events, his friendship with a few notorious rappers making him as infamous as the boxing did. There were always at least two models hanging off his arms. Shit, even at the weigh-in, he had half his entourage around him.
I listened to all of them, him included, talk shit about what I was bringing to the table. It was a time-honored boxing tradition to try and break each other mentally before a fight. My temper was usually on a hair trigger, but I’d perfected the art of looking bored shitless at weigh-ins, which usually succeeded in riling up my opponent. I think I might I have even thrown a yawn in midway through Temple’s rant.
I didn’t want any of that shit. Sure, I wanted to be successful to give my girl a better life, so that I could take care of her. But I was the lucky son of a bitch who got to do that by doing what I loved. And I fucking loved the fight. Temple boxed with his head. He was what Danny called a “technical” fighter. His technique was flawless. Combine that with his size and fitness and the guy was a machine.
I ran my fingertips over the tattoo across my chest. “A champion is someone who gets up when they can’t.—Jack Dempsey.” I wasn’t a technical fighter. I was a wild card, always would be. When I got knocked down, when my ribs were bruised and every single part of my body felt fucking broken, I got back up. When the fight was over and all hope of victory was lost, I got back up. Heart is what got me a shot at the world heavyweight title, not fear or anger, but heart. In the end, it’s why I would win. Because when his head told Temple it was all over, my heart would still be telling me to get back up. Losing was done when you listened to your head; winning was done when you listened to your heart.
The longer I watched Leon work his way through sparring partners, the more I imagined in my head how the fight was going to go down. I was fucking hungry for this. Temple had no idea what I was capable of, but he was about to find out. I was ready to hurt and keep hurting until Temple went down and stayed down. Whatever happened tonight, I was coming home with that title, not for Em, not for Danny or any of the boys, but for me.
* * *
“You ready, son?” Danny asked as he sat down on the bench next to me. He lit up a cigarette and inhaled deeply. Southside, like most gyms, was nonsmoking. Apparently that rule didn’t apply to Danny on either side of the Atlantic.
“I’m ready, Danny. I can’t explain why. A few weeks ago, Frank was all I could think about. Now it just feels like this is my time. Like everything that’s happened has made me who I need to be to win this fight.”
“That’s good,” he said. “Winning ain’t about who deserves it, it’s about who fights harder for it. So when you get in that ring tonight, you just remember that we’re right behind you, and you keep fighting until it’s done.” I smiled at him, and he scowled back.
“This fight is mine, Danny. I’ll make you proud of me. I promise.”
“Kid,” he said, standing up and taking another drag of his cigarette, “I’ve always been proud of you. Title or no title, that ain’t gonna change.” He patted me on the back and walked away.
There was a lump in my throat as I thought over what he’d said. When I was a kid and Danny had made us go to church, I couldn’t help feeling resentful that God had given me a shitty mother. It never occurred to me until now that he’d actually blessed me with a pretty amazing father. One who never held me back or pushed me too hard, but one who also never lost faith in me and showed me the way. It was because of him I knew what kind of dad I wanted to be someday.
* * *
There were so many people around that it was like being backstage at a concert. Everyone I passed seemed to want my autograph. When we finally made it to my dressing room, Kieran shut the door behind us, and no fucker was allowed in.
“Shit. This is a bit fancy, ain’t it?” Tommy commented. Tom and Liam enjoyed the TV and leather sofa but the rest of us weren’t interested. They turned the volume on the TV off as they settled in, and I appreciated it. Half the preparation in any fight was getting into the zone. I warmed up, stretched, and shadowboxed.
It was only once Danny started taping up my knuckles that he gave me the pep talk. “This ain’t no exhibition anymore, son, and this guy ain’t going down without a fight. Now you and me, we’ve come a long way this last year, but that don’t change who we are or where we’ve come from. He’s tough, but you’re tougher. He’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders and nowhere to go but down. Well, you’re gonna help him get there real quick.
“This fight ain’t gonna be pretty. But when you’re done, you’ll be the kid from the streets who came from nowhere to become the greatest heavyweight fighter in the world. So you ready to make history, Con?”
“Yes sir,” I replied in all seriousness. I was done with watching Temple keep my title belt warm. This was my time and fuck Temple for not realizing that. When Danny was done with the tape, I stood up and shook out my legs as Kier got the pads ready for me to warm up. I was surprised when the television went off. Tommy and Liam looked restless and more nervous that I was.
“You okay?” I asked them.
“Shit, Con,” Liam answered, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “You’re about to fight for the World Heavyweight title and you’re asking me if I’m okay?”
“Yeah,” I answered, making them chuckle.
“We’re nervous. You tell me you ain’t?” Tommy asked.
I thought about it for a second as I cricked my neck from side to side. “No. I’m not nervous. I don’t think about the title or who’s watching. Once the bell goes, there’s just him and me anyway.”
Tommy rolled his eyes and went back to pacing. A sharp knock sounded at the door, pissing Kieran off. “What do you want?” he said, yanking it open.
“Well, is that any way to talk to a man of God?” an Irish voice replied.
“What are you doing here?” Kieran asked, as he let Farther Pat in the door.
“Didn’t seem right letting you fight without following tradition,” he told us as he gave me a quick hug.
“You flew halfway around the world for confession? What’s the real reason?” I asked with a smile.
“The congregation and I bet five hundred pounds on you, so I’m here protecting our investment,” he answered.
“Very Christian,” Danny chuckled.
Another knock sounded at the door, and one of the managers put his head around it. “Ten minutes, Mr. O’Connell,” he said.
“Well then. We don’t have time for a full confession, but how about a quick prayer?” Father Pat asked, and Danny nodded his permission. We gathered around in a circle, even Danny, and bent our heads.
“Dear Lord, we ask you not for victory, for somehow that seems wrong. But only for Con’s protection and the courage for him to be strong. Strength not to conquer, but just that he fights well. And proves himself a sportsman at the ring of the final bell.”
“Amen,” we all said together, and a contemplative silence fell about the room. There was no whooping and hollering and no talking smack about Temple. The time for talking was done. Now there was only doing what needed to be done.
Kieran held up my green silk robe and helped me slip it on. Shit was a lot fancier when you fought at this level. I’d keep it for Em if I won. She’d get a kick out of that. Her flight would be landing any minute now, but I knew by the time she got her bags and made it here, the fight would be done and dusted.
I bounced from foot to foot to keep limber and because I was so wired that I could barely keep still. Stopping for a moment, I spoke quietly to Danny, out of earshot of the others. “I wish Sunshine could have been with me for this,” I admitted.
“She is here, son. She always will be,” he replied, and I nodded, knowing that he was right.
“In case I forget to say it later, thanks for everything, Danny. I wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t for you.”
“You’re welcome, son,” he replied, squeezing me on the shoulder. “Now, tear this arrogant little fecker apart so we can go home,” he said, making me grin. The venue didn’t allow smoking and had alarms practically every two feet. Not being able to have a cigarette for hours on end was making him twitchy.
I closed my eyes briefly and thought about Em. Right then I knew she’d be looking at her watch and thinking of me too. This was the moment I was going to prove to her and every other fucker in the world that her faith in me wasn’t unfounded.
* * *
The music playing in the stadium stopped. After a brief pause, the opening bars to my introduction music boomed through the speakers, making the floor shake. The door opened for the last time.
The crowd roared as the spotlight caught and followed me to the ring. My heart was racing so fast, it felt like it was going to explode in my chest. But with every beat, I became more and more pumped. With every step, I breathed deeply, sharpening my will to end this, to end Rico Temple.
“Hurricane, we love you!” I heard a woman’s voice scream from the crowd. They didn’t love me. They didn’t fucking know me. There’s only one woman who knew me, who’d love me with or without these gloves, one woman who owned me. The crowd was fickle. They loved a winner, and tonight that meant they would love me.
The rest of the screams were white noise, and the sea of faces was lost behind the flash of bulbs. I reached the ring and walked up the steps, climbing between the ropes with the boys behind me.
Kieran took off my robe as my music ended. After a brief pause, Rico Temple’s stupid-arse song rang in my ears. “I see his shit taste in music hasn’t improved,” shouted Kieran, making me smirk. I did a lap of the ring, ignoring the smoke machines and other stupid shit his entourage had going on. I wasn’t intimidated by his crap, the size of this place, or anything else. Like my girl had once said to me, the only thing I had to fear is fear itself.
Liam and Tommy sat in the front row, an empty seat between them. It didn’t matter that Em couldn’t make it on time. There would always be a seat for her wherever I was fighting. Whatever happened, however the next twelve rounds played out, this fight was for her. I would give the very best of myself, knowing that she’d taught me how. This was my tribute to the woman who’d changed my life. To the woman who’d changed me.