radicalducati Page 189
Page 189
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, then Tyson's voice became serious: "Don King is in control, Victor. He said I need to take it slow and maintain the undefeated record."
"And we all know that Tang Jin is most concerned about Tang Jin."
Victor bluntly stated, "You are the champion, Mike. You should decide your opponent."
There was another silence, then Tyson changed the subject: "Holyfield is cunning; he won't fight you head-on. He'll try to wear you down, exhaust you, and then look for an opportunity."
"I know."
How's your training going?
"Five hours of technical training, two hours of physical training, and one hour of rock-breaking every day."
Tyson whistled: "Crazy! That's why they call you the Tiger. But Victor..."
"Don't push yourself too hard. Your career is short, and we're not real tigers, we're just humans."
"Mike, you've been corrupted by women."
"These are our goals."
Are you afraid of me, Mike?
“I am the victor, Victor.”
“Mike, you know that you and I both want to unify the four major organizations, and we are bound to have a fight.”
"We can have a rematch."
“I agree, but your Donkin won’t agree, because he can’t bear the risk of you failing.”
“Victor, although some people call you and me the two kings of the boxing ring, you know you can’t beat me.”
"Mike, you are too arrogant. I am not the same as before."
“Victor, I will persuade Don King.”
"Mike, I'm hanging up now."
After hanging up the phone, Victor pondered Tyson's words.
He knew that part of Tyson's advice was out of concern, and part of it was probably out of worry—that if Victor beat Holyfield, a rematch with Tyson next year would be inevitable.
That match would be a battle of the century, with stakes far exceeding money.
In the following weeks, Viktor's training intensity only increased.
He added mountain running, training at high altitudes in Colorado to acclimatize to the dry climate of Las Vegas.
His diet was strictly controlled, and his weight was adjusted to an optimal state.
Media attention to this match is increasing daily.
HBO produced a one-hour pre-fight special that analyzed the strengths and weaknesses of both boxers.
Ring magazine released a special issue with a cover featuring a photo of Victor and Holyfield gazing at each other, titled "Unstoppable Force vs. Immovable Object".
Reports from Holyfield indicate that he is also undergoing exceptionally rigorous training.
Reports indicate that he has increased his muscle mass in an attempt to match Victor's strength advantage.
Meanwhile, his team frequently emphasized Victor's playing frequency, suggesting that the Tigers may be physically and mentally exhausted.
Frankie cleverly used these comments to create an underdog atmosphere. Although Victor was the defending champion, it was actually advantageous for Victor to have the Holyfield team play the role of the confident one.
One afternoon in June, Viktor was unexpectedly knocked down by his sparring partner during a live-fire training session.
Although it was just a momentary loss of balance, the incident was captured by a reporter who infiltrated the training camp and became the headline of the tabloids the next day.
"The Tigers are showing signs of fatigue! Holyfield's chances of winning have greatly increased!"
The New York Post claimed so.
Frankie was furious and increased security at the training camp.
Viktor, however, seemed unconcerned.
"Let them talk,"
He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth—from an accidental elbow strike—"I'll shut everyone up on game night."
But privately, Viktor did feel the effects of accumulated fatigue.
His physical recovery is not as fast as before, his sleep quality has declined, and his appetite is sometimes unstable.
He added meditation and mental training to cope with these challenges, and never fully revealed his condition to anyone.
With three weeks to go before the competition, Victor underwent a full physical examination.
The results showed that he was in excellent physical condition, but the doctor cautiously advised reducing the intensity of training to allow his body time to recover and reach its peak.
Frankie took the test results to Victor: "The doctor is right, you need to taper (reduce your training). Professional athletes do this, reducing their training volume before major competitions to get their bodies into peak condition."
Viktor agreed to reduce physical training but insisted on maintaining technical training and stone-throwing practice.
He even extended the latter's time, as if to prove through this almost self-destructive behavior that he had not been conquered by fatigue.
Two weeks before the competition, promoters organized a grand press conference.
The Golden Hall of the MGM Grand Las Vegas was packed with media representatives from all over the world.
Flashbulbs went off like a galaxy, and when the two boxers stepped onto the stage, cheers and boos nearly lifted the roof off.
Holyfield spoke first, displaying his signature calm and confidence: "Victor Lee is a respected champion, but his era is coming to an end. I have prepared a completely new strategy to deal with his attacks, and on July 20th, the world will see what a truly complete boxer looks like."
When Victor took the microphone, the entire room fell silent.
He scanned the audience, his gaze sharp: "Ivand says my era is coming to an end? I think he's got something wrong."
He paused, then his voice suddenly rose, “My era has only just begun! On July 20th, I won’t just win the game; I will make the whole world remember why they call me the Mad Tiger!”
The moment the two boxers locked eyes was captured by a camera and became the front-page photo of almost every sports newspaper the following day.
In that photo, Holyfield is calm and confident, while Victor exudes wild energy—perfectly embodying two different champion qualities.
After the press conference, Victor received a call from the Chicago tax commissioner.
They reminded him of his tax obligations again and stated that they had coordinated with the Nevada State Taxation Administration to ensure that the tournament revenue would be taxed correctly.
Viktor found it both funny and frustrating—everyone was concerned with how much money he could make, but no one asked him what price he had to pay to earn it.
In the final week, Viktor almost completely stopped all high-intensity training, maintaining only basic technical practice and physical conditioning.
This sudden relaxation made him feel uneasy, with his energy having nowhere to go. Frankie had to arrange extra massages and psychological counseling to help him relax.
The night before the match, Viktor meditated alone in his hotel room.
He visualized every detail of the match—the bell ringing, walking to the ring, exchanging punches with Holyfield, dodging the first blow, launching the first attack…
When Victor finally fell asleep, the city of Las Vegas, which never sleeps, was still brightly lit.
Inside the MGM Grand casino, people are betting on their last chance.
Boxing experts are making their final predictions on television.
Millions of boxing fans around the world are having trouble sleeping, eagerly anticipating tomorrow's fight.
In New York, a woman looks at Victor on the newspaper, lost in thought.
Meanwhile, in Chicago's South Side, in the place where Victor grew up, a group of Chinese American children gathered at the community center, their eyes glued to the big screen, waiting for their hero to appear.
The battle against the raging tiger is about to begin.
Chapter 159 Holyfield
The July heat in Las Vegas was intense, with temperatures outside the MGM Grand Hotel soaring to 105 degrees Fahrenheit, but the Grand Ballroom inside the hotel was remarkably cool.
At 4 p.m. on July 19, 1987, the WBA heavyweight boxing championship weigh-in ceremony was about to begin.
Victor Lee stood in front of the full-length mirror in the backstage dressing room, adjusting his tie.
The man in the mirror weighed 400 pounds, his muscles layered like mountains, yet he was dressed in a custom-made dark gray Italian suit.
His agent, Lowell, kept babbling on.
“Remember, Vic, smile, shake hands, and don’t say too much. Holyfield will definitely say some harsh words, don’t fall for it.”
Viktor nodded, but his gaze drifted out the window.
Looking out from the windows of the MGM Grand, the Las Vegas Strip gleams in the desert sun.
His thoughts had already flown back to Chicago, back to the empire he had built from scratch—Skywind City Group.
The $600 million investment project, the Windy City Plaza Hotel, the Twin Towers project in partnership with the Trump Organization... these are what he truly cares about.
Because $600 million tore down the barriers of Chicago's long-established capital market, the bigwigs from New York stripped these old-timers bare.
"Vic! Are you listening?"
Lowell raised his voice.
Viktor turned around, a faint smile on his face. "Smile, shake hands, and say less. Understood."
There was a knock on the door, and the staff indicated that it was time for them to come out.
Victor took a deep breath, his muscles taut beneath his suit, the groan of the stitches almost audible.
He stepped into the passageway, where the weighing platform under the spotlight awaited him.
The weighing ceremony was bustling with activity.
The flashbulbs were flashing incessantly, like a summer night thunderstorm, illuminating the entire stage as if it were daytime.
Celebrities from all walks of life were already seated in the front row—Hollywood stars, sports superstars, and political and business figures.
The air was filled with the scents of cologne, cigars, and desire.
Rocky Balboa sat in the commentary booth, adjusting his headphones.
He has been retired for two years and has gained a little weight, but his eyes are still as sharp as an eagle's.
He felt both honored and uneasy as the special guest commentator invited by Viktor.
Veterans in the boxing world know about his friendship with Viktor and that this "job" is more like a charitable handout from the boxing champion.
Good evening, everyone.