Capítulo 137: ### Chapter 137: A Threat from Prison
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"
In the recreational yard of Carson City Prison in Nevada, Mike Tyson swung his fists and cursed loudly.
"What's wrong, Mike? Did your woman cheat on you?"
Hector, a fellow black inmate, teased.
"Fuck you!"
Tyson gave him the finger.
"Haha, seems like it's true."
"Get lost!"
Tyson waved his fists and then lay down on a bench, covering his head.
"Did you manage to borrow the money for the bet?"
Hector asked.
"No!"
Tyson replied, frustrated.
"No way, you're Mike Tyson, the boxing champion. You couldn't borrow ten thousand dollars?"
Hector said disdainfully.
"Humph, that Roy Jones is so stingy. I used to buy him drinks and publicly supported him in the newspapers. Now, when I ask to borrow some money, he says he doesn't have any. What a miser."
Tyson said with a dark face.
"Are you still going to bet?"
"No money, no bet," Tyson waved his hand dismissively.
"Who do you think will win? I want to place a bet."
"Roy Jones will win. That guy is stingy, but he's good. I've fought him before."
"Could you not beat him?"
Hector asked curiously.
"Nonsense. He's a light heavyweight. How could he compare to me, a heavyweight? One punch from me would knock him out. No way he could beat me," Tyson shook his head.
"Can he beat Richard Brad?"
"Hey, what are you guys talking about?"
A few other inmates gathered around.
"Next month in Las Vegas, Richard Brad is fighting Roy Jones. I'm looking to place a bet to earn some cigarette money. I'm asking the champ for advice. Are you guys in?"
Hector asked, holding a magazine.
"Haha, perfect timing. We were just thinking of asking Mike. Who do you think is better, champ?"
"Roy Jones. He's one of us, a black man with better physicality. He underestimated his opponent last time. This time, he's determined not to lose," Tyson analyzed.
"I don't think so. Last match, Richard dominated Roy from the start, which shows Richard is stronger,"
said a young white man with an eagle tattoo.
"Yes, I think Richard is better too. Look at the odds in the papers. The odds favor Richard winning, meaning the bookmakers also believe in him."
"Bullshit!"
Tyson was furious. Being criticized in his field by amateurs was too much. He needed to teach them a lesson.
"You guys don't understand boxing. Last time, Richard pretended to be injured and entered the ring hurt. Roy Jones, already stronger than Richard, saw his opponent injured and didn't take him seriously, which led to his defeat. Richard attacked fiercely, catching Roy off guard. Once Roy lost the advantage, he couldn't defend himself. Richard's taunts only aggravated Roy, leading him into Richard's traps,"
Tyson shook his head. Talking about Richard, he suddenly felt the guy was quite cunning. Avoiding those traps was almost impossible for anyone.
"But after Richard taunted him, Roy missed his punch while Richard's counterpunch landed. Experts in the papers believe Richard's strength and speed match Roy's,"
Hector said, holding a boxing fan magazine.
"Roy was dazed and furious, reducing his strength by half. Even without that, his speed and power had no advantage. Being KO'd was expected,"
Tyson sat up and said.
"Hey, you just said Roy was strong, now you say he has no advantage?"
The white man with the eagle tattoo teased.
"Hmph, I wasn't finished. In terms of physicality and stamina, Richard can't match Roy. Look at Richard's matches; he rarely goes beyond 10 rounds. Only once did he reach the 12th round, against Vasily. He was exhausted at the end, almost unable to stand. This shows his lack of stamina. Roy's matches often go past 10 rounds, proving his superior stamina and endurance. Last time, Roy learned his lesson and won't rush. This match will last long, and the longer it goes, the better Roy's chances," Tyson analyzed thoroughly.
"What if Richard goes for a quick win?"
Hector asked, stroking his chin.
"Impossible!"
Tyson said confidently.
"Why not?"
Everyone looked at him.
Tyson chuckled, "Knowing Don King, Richard and Roy won't end the match early. It's like me. Before King became my manager, my matches lasted one round at most. Once he became my manager, he manipulated my fights, making them longer. I'll bet my Bentley Continental T that if the match ends within three rounds, you can each drive it for a month."
"I prefer your yellow Lamborghini Diablo GTR,"
the white man with the eagle tattoo said.
"No problem!"
Tyson generously waved his hand. His garage had over twenty luxury cars, some never driven.
"Alright, we'll bet on Roy Jones winning. His odds are better, so if he wins, we'll earn more,"
Hector grinned, showing his white teeth.
"Haha, trust me, you can't go wrong,"
Tyson laughed.
"But just to be safe, I have a suggestion,"
the tattooed man stroked his chin and smiled.
"What suggestion?"
"Richard Brad is coming to Las Vegas for training soon. Randall, you're getting out soon. You could give him a little warning,"
the tattooed man patted the shoulder of a strong black man beside him.
"Is that necessary?"
The black man, Randall, frowned.
"One thousand dollars. Deal?"
the tattooed man smiled.
"Hey, you guys better not do that. The match must be fair. Threatening Richard makes the fight meaningless,"
Tyson said sternly.
"Hehe, just kidding!"
the tattooed man spread his hands and smiled.
"You better be joking, or it'll end badly for you."
"Got it, got it!"
Ding, ding, ding, ding~
Recreation time was over. The inmates slowly left, leaving the yard with only sunlight and gym equipment.
Estado de energía semanal
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