The arrival of Teddy, Oliver, and a few others added a significant strain to their expenses. Bill had to shell out a hefty ten thousand dollars just to secure hotel accommodations for the expanding crew. Once settled in, Jimmy reached out to reserve a training venue, but that decision left them with only three thousand dollars available for spending. This amount would serve as pocket money, divided and sent out to each of them for essentials.
As Tyson gripped the four hundred dollars assigned to him, he felt an unfamiliar urge to hoard it. Though the amount was meager, it reminded him of the precarious balance they had struck between training hard and managing resources. At least this financial tension motivated everyone to abandon any ideas of leisurely exploring Atlantic City. Instead, they were focused, channeling their energy into rigorous training alongside Tyson.
The following morning, the group rose before dawn, all fired up to tackle the day ahead. Tyson was the first to hit the gym, sprinting to fulfill his goal of a five-kilometer run on the treadmill. After a solid breakfast at the hotel, the team met up with Jimmy, who successfully found a suitable training venue for their needs: the W · Z Boxing Club.
This boxing club, perched on the second floor of a lively bar, has an expansive layout of around 4,000 square feet. However, due to budget constraints, they could only afford to rent half of the space. The interior was adorned with memorabilia from past boxing legends, and the smell of sweat and determination lingered in the air, setting the perfect atmosphere for their intense training sessions.
Tyson, committed to maximizing their training potential, ensured they invested wisely in necessary equipment. When they arrived at the gym that day, it was blessedly empty, allowing Tyson to assign tasks without distractions. They had a singular focus for this training—developing their explosive assault capabilities, crucial for any fighter who wanted to dictate the course of a bout.
Tyson explained his philosophy clearly: to feel confident while boxing, one must be able to control the pace. Speed and agility could make the difference between victory and defeat, especially in a sport where footwork dictated the flow of the match. Tyson introduced a unique kind of training, using resistance bands to enhance their explosive strength and footwork synchronization.
Teddy efficiently split the five sparring partners into groups, two wielding resistance bands while three handled focus pads. Tyson's challenge involved moving rapidly, resisting the bands' pull while striking the pads and dodging the other sparring partners.
This method, though complex, was aimed at creating a boxer who could adapt to any form of combat. The drills were designed to test stamina and precision, pushing each individual to their limits. Once everything was set up, the entire group dove headfirst into training.
Tyson, known for his relentless drive, quickly adjusted to the rigorous demands. After two rounds, he began to find a rhythm, expertly blending offense and defense. But as the training wore on, slowing became inevitable; bodily fatigue crept in.
Half an hour into their grueling routine, Tyson felt the burn. Despite his physically hardened state, he found himself panting—his usual fervor dimmed. He paused to catch his breath, hands resting on his knees as sweat poured from him, forming a small puddle at his feet. This was no leisurely stroll; he was pushing himself in every single calorie-torching workout moment.
Just then, five boxers entered the club, shirtless and radiating confidence, eager to claim their own space in the ring. They were visibly a tight-knit crew, their camaraderie evident as they exchanged loud banter. One of the taller guys, with a buzz cut and a confident demeanor, shot a glance towards Tyson's group. "What's up with that kid? Is he actually working out? Looks pretty slow if you ask me," he laughed, turning to his friend beside him.
Another boxer chimed in, "Looks more like a wild boar caught in a trap!" The sound of their laughter reverberated throughout the club, an audacious challenge hanging in the air.
Meanwhile, Tyson was unbothered by the mockery, keeping his focus firmly on his training. Perhaps they could have been an annoyance, but he wrapped his mind around the grind, letting their comments fuel his resolve instead. The five club boxers lost interest quickly and started their warm-up routines nearby.
Tyson was aware that the nature of their training required frequent breaks. He instituted a pattern of resting for about fifteen minutes every thirty minutes of hard training to allow for optimal recovery. It didn't take long for the club's coach, a seasoned man in his sixties who had seen countless fighters come and go, to appear. His presence alone made an impact, giving the club an aura of serious competition.
"Time to tighten it up, boys!" the coach barked at his crew. The atmosphere shifted slightly as the boxers powered through their individual practices. The room was filled with the sound of fists hitting bags and grunts, echoes of commitment that Tyson admired.
As the coach guided the boxers through some drills, they transitioned to sparring. Anthony—the tall boxer who had previously laughed at Tyson—spoke up. "Hey! I need a good spar. Can one of them come over? I see you got plenty of fighters here," he said, gesturing to Tyson's crew.
Tyson paused, looking at him with determination in his eyes. "Sorry, man. We have our own training plan. Can't help you," he responded, feeling perhaps too tired to deal with what seemed an unnecessary interruption.
Anthony's expression darkened. No one enjoyed being dismissed, especially on their own turf. "What are you even doing? Those clumsy moves don't look all that effective to me," he jabbed, a hint of disdain creeping into his tone.
It was an obvious provocation, and Tyson's patience began to wear thin. He stood, dripping with sweat yet radiating confidence. "What we're doing is our business. Why don't you go focus on yourself? We're in the middle of something here," Tyson declared firmly, his presence alone commanding respect.
The tension between them thickened for a moment, but Tyson's fierce determination, alongside the quietly intimidating figures of Teddy and Oliver stepping in to support him, made Anthony reconsider. He took two steps back, clearly intimidated now, and retreated without uttering another word.
Once the confrontation faded, the group resumed training, the subtle background chatter of the other boxers providing a rhythm to their work. Tyson felt refueled by the encounter, aware that distractions would always exist but that his focus needed to remain unwavering.
With every drop of sweat, every challenge met, and more rounds completed, Tyson was reminded why they were undertaking this journey. He pushed through the fatigue; he harnessed every ounce of energy. As he trained, he visualized not just their immediate goals but also the bright, hard-won future he was fighting for—a future he was determined to seize in the world of boxing.
The sun hung high in the sky, casting its rays into the gym. Tyson understood that this was just another day on the path to greatness, and he was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.