The Boxing System: I Became the King of the Ring

Tommy sat on the bench with his hands wrapped tight. Gloves rested heavy on his knees like weights. The gym was stuffy and the pressure from the occupants felt overwhelming.

His stomach churned as the smell hit him. Old leather, fresh tape, and nerves from twenty different fighters.

Javier sat beside him, hand on his back. The steady patting should have helped but didn’t.

Voices bounced off the walls from every direction. None of them were friendly.

Tommy’s mind raced through memories. Every 5 AM wake-up call. Every time he’d pictured himself in a real ring. Every punch he’d thrown at bags while dreaming of this exact moment.

Now he was here and wanted to puke.

"He’s had seventeen fights," Tommy said, voice barely working. "I’ve only had one."

"You’ve been training just as hard," Javier said. "You earned this spot."

Tommy stared at his gloves like they were foreign objects. "Don’t let them stop it unless I’m really hurt."

"I got you," Javier said. "Just do what Miguel taught us."

Danny squatted in front of him, speaking low. "Tommy, listen up. Keep your hands high. Kevin’s quick but he’s not perfect. Nobody is."

Voices rained down from the bleachers above.