บท 128: ## Chapter 128: New Year
Boom! Boom!
It's morning in the Bronx, at the Alvin Boxing Gym on Youth Park Street.
In the ring, two tall and muscular men, dressed in workout shirts and wearing boxing gloves, are engaged in an intense training session. Sweat is pouring off them as they exchange punches vigorously.
An old man with gray hair stands ringside with his hands behind his back, watching the training with satisfaction. He occasionally nods and smiles approvingly.
"Hey, Alvin, Happy New Year!"
A young black man, Mayweather, enters the gym wearing a blue down jacket and jeans, holding coffee and pizza. He eats as he walks in.
"Happy New Year!" Alvin nods, his face showing a kind smile.
"Can I bring this in? I'm almost done," Mayweather asks, holding the pizza.
"Haha, it's fine. Back when Paul and Richard were younger, there were more rules in the gym because they lacked self-discipline. But now, those rules aren't necessary anymore," Alvin says with a laugh.
"True, Richard has become a champion, and Paul has the potential to be one. Alvin, congratulations on training two champions," Mayweather says.
"Hahaha, thank you!" Alvin laughs heartily. Mayweather's words have hit a sweet spot.
Ever since Richard won the championship belt last year, Alvin has felt a sense of fulfillment in life. He had been a champion himself and had now trained a champion – a champion known for both fame and skill. This feeling was incredible.
Now Paul is also showing promise, and the gym has undergone several renovations, becoming more well-equipped. Alvin feels like he's experiencing a second spring in his life, and it feels great.
"Hey, Mayweather, you're here. Happy New Year!" Richard, leaning on the ropes after training, greets him.
"Richard, Happy New Year! How come you guys are training on the first day of the year? I thought I'd come over to hang out," Mayweather says, finishing his pizza and walking up to the ring.
"I also wanted to hang out, but Paul said that hard work should start on the first day of the new year to set a good tone for 1999, so I joined him," Richard replies with a smile.
"Haha, Paul, Happy New Year! I hope you can win the championship belt this year," Mayweather says.
"Thanks, Mayweather. Aren't you training? Winning the belt is cool, but you can't slack off, or someone will take it from you," Paul says, grinning.
"Haha, don't worry. No one's taking my belt," Mayweather replies confidently, waving his fist.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
After a brief rest, the training resumes. Richard and Paul continue their sparring, while Mayweather watches for a while before taking off his down jacket to join in.
Soon, some of the younger trainees, including Jim, arrive at the gym. With a few new recruits, the number of apprentices has grown to thirteen. Some are skipping rope, some are lifting weights, and others are hitting the punching bags. The gym is buzzing with activity.
"Haha, not bad!" Alvin says, looking around with satisfaction.
"Haha, it's lively. Everyone's here today. Looks like I came to the right place," another man enters the gym. He's wearing a black jacket and has dyed blond hair. He's tall and lean, looking around with a grin.
"Norman, what are you doing here? This is unexpected. A guy like you should be partying, not in a gym," Mayweather says, glancing at the newcomer.
"Parties are boring. The gym is more exciting. Ah, this feels great!" Norman says, stretching his arms.
"Norman, why are you here? We're all training," Jim says, wiping sweat from his brow as he leans on a punching bag.
"I'm here to train too. It's better to get fit before going out. Richard's advice makes sense," Norman replies, taking off his jacket and putting on a pair of boxing gloves. He looks around the training area; all the punching bags are occupied, and he can't handle Richard and Paul's specialized punching pads. He walks over to Jim.
"Hey, let's train together!" Norman says, throwing a few punches at the bag.
"Norman, you were kicked out. You're not supposed to train here," Jim reminds him.
"Shh, don't mention that!" Norman glances at Alvin, who is paying no attention to him. He grins, "See? Alvin didn't kick me out. That's tacit approval. After all, I've contributed to this gym."
"Haha, right. Did you bring any weed today? Can you share some?" Jim asks with a sly grin.
Norman hesitates for a moment and throws a punch at Jim. "Hey, kid, stop being so sneaky. You think you can trap me? You've got a lot to learn."
"I'm not lying. I really want to smoke," Jim says, blocking the punch with a smile.
"You're trying to trick me. You're as crafty as Richard," Norman snorts.
"That's called strategy," Jim laughs and swings a punch. "Norman, we fought last year, and I lost. How about a rematch?"
Norman looks at him and decisively declines. Jim has grown a lot over the past six months. He's taller and has gained noticeable muscle definition, with clear muscle lines on his arms.
Norman compares himself and sighs. Maybe he should have stuck with training. Sighing, Norman buries himself in his training.
Around 4 PM, the training ends. The group takes showers, changes clothes, and heads to Johnson's Bar for some New Year's entertainment. Richard, Paul, Norman, and even Alvin join them.
"Hey, Richard, it's been a while since you played 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.' How about a performance?" Old Johnson calls out from behind the counter.
"Aren't you afraid I'll drive away your customers?" Richard replies with a laugh.
"Richard, I'd love to hear it too. Your 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star' isn't that bad," Paul chimes in.
"Haha, yes, Richard. Play something for us!" About thirty regulars in the bar cheer him on.
"Haha, if everyone wants to hear it, I'll give it a go," Richard says, rubbing his fingers and walking up to the small stage.
"Richard can play the piano?" Norman asks curiously.
"Haha, the best piano player in the Bronx," Paul laughs.
"Yes, I've heard about his piano skills in the North," Mayweather says, sipping his drink.
Ting! Ting! Tong! Ting! Tong! Tong!
The piano begins to play "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star," a tune familiar to everyone.
"Oh, finally hearing this again! It feels like last summer," someone in the bar shouts.
"Haha, it's still so wonderful."
"Richard, you're amazing!" The crowd cheers.
Ting! Ting! Tong! Ting! Tong! Tong!
Richard plays with even more enthusiasm, closing his eyes and swaying his head, looking like a seasoned artist, full of flair.
"Is this it?" Norman asks, puzzled. "People cheer for this? I could play better with my toes."
"You don't understand. They're cheering for the sentiment," Paul says with a laugh. He then shouts, "Richard, play another one!"
"Don't bother. Richard only knows one song!" someone in the crowd jokes.
"Haha, yes, Paul. You should shout for a repeat," another person laughs.
Richard glances at them and changes the tune to "Christmas Serenade."
Since buying the new apartment, Richard and Bundchen have added many pieces of furniture. Besides the essential items and gym equipment, they also have a Steinway piano at home, which Richard occasionally practices.
Playing the piano is also a form of strength training. It helps control hand strength, relax muscles, and keep the mind agile. Boxers, especially after Muhammad Ali's Parkinson's diagnosis became public, have been aware of such occupational hazards. Training the brain can be beneficial for overall health.
When the song ends, Richard raises his hands high and slowly opens his eyes. He stands up and bows to the audience.
"Wow, that was amazing!"
"Richard, you finally learned a second piano piece!"
"Richard, come down, and I'll buy you a drink," the crowd cheers and applauds.
"Tsk, getting so excited over a beginner playing the piano. You guys are too easily satisfied," Norman said with a sneer.
"You don't get it. We common folks find joy in simple things. You upper-class types, having so much, are harder to please. That's why you often turn to substances, alcohol, sex, and the suffering of others to find pleasure. That's the difference between us," Mayweather shrugged.
Norman glanced at him, annoyed, and said, "Mayweather, I know you have a grudge against the rich, but you don't have to bring up class differences all the time. You're a champion now and will be wealthy in the future. Will you hate yourself then?"
"Even if I become rich, I won't flaunt it like those rich people," Mayweather said, lifting his head.
"Haha, we'll see when you get there," Norman laughed.
"Hey, Richard, congrats on learning a new piece!" Paul shouted, raising his glass.
"That's nothing. I know more than one song," Richard said, clinking glasses with him and sitting down in the booth. He glanced at Norman and Mayweather. "What were you talking about? The atmosphere seems a bit tense."
"Haha, these two have irreconcilable class conflicts. It's easy for them to argue when they sit together," Paul laughed.
Richard shook his head, surprised that Mayweather, known for his flashy lifestyle, had a grudge against the wealthy.
"Hey, do you guys have plans tonight? Want to go to a party with me?" Norman asked, drinking his glass of wine.
"I have training tomorrow!" Paul said, spreading his hands.
Mayweather remained silent.
Richard was about to decline when Norman interrupted him, "Richard, aren't you trying to get a movie role? There will be many movie company executives at the party. It's always useful to know them."
"But I'm not good at sucking up. What's the point of going?"
"No worries, I'll introduce you to them. Leave the rest to me," Norman said, patting his chest.
Richard thought for a moment and nodded. "Alright, let's go together. Paul, training should be a balance of work and rest. Don't stretch yourself too thin. Mayweather, let's go and criticize those guys. Even if we become rich, we won't become as depraved as them."
"I'm not going!"
In the end, Richard couldn't convince the other two, so he left with Norman alone.
---
(End of this chapter)
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