Stewart had begun to grasp the extent of Tyson's talent. This was a gifted young boxer, and after just a month of training, his prowess was becoming evident in every aspect of the sport.
Stewart had never anticipated Tyson's remarkable abilities. Much of his current performance could be attributed to the mysterious memories he held. With a month of adaptation behind him, Tyson's technical skills had quickly caught up to Stewart's expectations.
"Alright, that's all for today's training," Stewart announced as he dismissed the group of teenagers.
"Coach, why am I the only one staying behind?" Tyson inquired, puzzled by the unusual attention.
Unlike previous sessions, Stewart hadn't tailored any special training for Tyson. After a brief moment of contemplation, Stewart said, "I see something exceptional in you. My skills can only take you so far. I want to transfer you to a legendary coach who can help you unlock your full potential."
Tyson fell silent, reflecting on Stewart's words. Given the timeline of events he had envisioned, this conversation should have happened two months down the line. Tyson's rapid progress had clearly altered the course of his training.
Seeing that Tyson was deep in thought, Stewart decided to give him a moment. After a few minutes, Tyson re-engaged, excitement igniting his tone. "So, when do we leave?"
Stewart replied, "Tomorrow morning at 9:30. I'll come to fetch you."
"Sounds good."
After dinner, Tyson returned to his dormitory. He noticed that his friend Bach seemed far more cheerful than before; any prior tension surrounding Tyson had dissipated completely. Not only had Bach's demeanor improved, but he had also gained noticeable muscle from the rigorous training.
"Hey, Mike!" Bach greeted, using the name that had become familiar over the past month.
"Let's go grab dinner, brother," Tyson replied with a smile.
The next morning at nine, Stewart arrived to pick up Tyson.
"Ready to go?" Stewart asked.
Tyson shrugged, "Absolutely. Let's do this."
Stewart led Tyson to his car, an impressively pristine Ford model.
"Nice ride," Tyson commented, genuinely impressed.
With a proud smile, Stewart recounted how he had come across it, recalling the various other vehicles he had considered before settling on this one.
"You definitely have an eye for style," Tyson complimented, feeling the camaraderie between them deepen.
"Well, coming from you, that means a lot," Stewart replied warmly. "When you first arrived, you were quite the handful."
Tyson grinned, well aware of the transformation he had undergone.
"Alright, let's get inside. We have to be there before ten," Stewart instructed.
They set off, and Stewart asked, "Have you ever heard of Cus D'Amato?"
Tyson's heart raced at the mention of the legendary coach known for guiding Mike Tyson to greatness. D'Amato had transformed fighters into champions, famously mentoring the likes of Floyd Patterson, who became the youngest heavyweight champion in history under his guidance.
"Yeah, I've heard of him. He's quite the figure," Tyson replied, feeling a mixture of nerves and excitement.
Stewart nodded. "He truly is. A legend in our sport."
After a while, they arrived in Catskills, New York, and Stewart effortlessly navigated to a local police station.
"Alright, time to hop out. We're here," Stewart announced.
Tyson eyed the building, a bit bewildered. "The police station?"
Stewart chuckled, "Don't worry, it's upstairs."
Leading the way, they entered a narrow alley beside the station where a rusty staircase led to the second floor. The metal groaned underfoot, and Tyson joked, "I hope this thing holds us both!"
Stewart reassured him, "Trust me, it's solid. You're going to love it up there."
After climbing the stairs, they pushed through a heavy iron door and entered a generously sized training space. Dimly lit but filled with history, it felt like the perfect place for aspiring champions. Posters adorned the walls, showcasing local talent from years past.
"Hello, my friend!" came a powerful voice, pulling Tyson's attention.
They were met by an elder man in his seventies, short and stout, with a shaved head—a classic boxing coach visage. Despite his age, D'Amato radiated strength and vigor.
Stewart approached him warmly, embracing the elder with genuine respect. "Mr. D'Amato, it's a privilege to see you again."
D'Amato looked Tyson up and down. "Is this the young talent you spoke of?"
"Yes, sir! He's living proof that raw talent exists," Stewart replied, pride evident in his voice.
"Let's see what you've got, kid. How about a spar with your coach?" D'Amato suggested.
"Absolutely!" Tyson agreed without hesitation.
In the center of the training area stood a boxing ring, the centerpiece of their focused effort. A young trainer handed them gloves, and Tyson introduced himself confidently.
"Mike Tyson, pleased to meet you."
"Teddy Atlas, nice to meet you, Tyson."
With gloves on, Tyson and Stewart stepped into the ring for a practice bout as D'Amato observed closely.
Tyson launched combinations with power that caught Stewart off guard. The first round saw Tyson relentlessly pursuing his coach with a barrage of punches. In round two, Stewart mounted a counter-attack, matching Tyson's energy, but his defenses eventually faltered as Tyson landed a direct shot to his nose, prompting blood.
The sparring session ended prematurely, and Teddy handed Tyson a towel.
"Apologies, sir. Guess we didn't quite manage three rounds this time," Stewart remarked, evident regret washing over him.
"You both did very well," D'Amato replied, shifting his gaze to Tyson. "This one will be a champion—a heavyweight champion."
Stewart beamed with pride, excitement pulsing in him as he slapped Tyson on the back. "I knew you had it in you!"
D'Amato checked the time, "It's lunchtime. Care to join me for a meal prepared for you?"
Without a second thought, Stewart replied, "Absolutely! We'd be honored."
Although their time with D'Amato had been brief, Tyson detected a warmth behind the coach's tough exterior. The atmosphere lightened as they drove to D'Amato's expansive home, located along the scenic Hudson River.
D'Amato's residence was a stunning white Victorian structure, surrounded by towering maple trees and blooming roses that filled the air with fragrance—a sight Tyson never thought he would witness.
As they sat together under the trees, savoring lunch prepared by D'Amato's charming girlfriend, Camille, the conversation flowed freely.
"Tyson, you are truly exceptional. You stand out from anyone else I've encountered," D'Amato praised, his words igniting ambition in Tyson's heart.
With a confident smile, D'Amato continued, "With the right training, I have no doubt you'll become the youngest heavyweight champion in boxing history."