dmims Page 98
Page 98
When the food arrived, Victor saw the morning paper.
The front-page photo prominently featured the final moments of his match last night—his right fist slammed into Kyotaro Fujimoto's chin, while the referee's hand tried to grab his waist.
The burly referee, even when wrapped up, was less than two-thirds the size of Victor's waist.
The headline in *International Boxing News* was shocking: 'Savage or Accident? Victor Lee's Deadly Punch.'
Viktor's lips twitched slightly. He casually tossed the newspaper onto the table, then ate five eggs, swallowed the steak, and finished his wine in one gulp.
The coffee machine started running, and black liquid dripped into the glass pot, just like the public opinion of the past few days was gradually fermenting into a storm.
"They don't understand boxing at all; this is obviously a advertisement sold by the Japanese!"
Victor spoke into the phone to Lowell, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the marble countertop.
Every detail of last night's game is etched in his memory—most people would believe it was intentional, but since the referee didn't stop it, it wasn't his fault.
"Buy or sell, I don't care! Viktor, you went too far! The other guy's braces were coming out, and you hit him in the forehead, and you still threw a follow-up punch?"
"I was playing so well, I got carried away! You know, the first time is always quick!"
"Victor!"
"I understand. How should I put it?"
"The boxing association just came to see you. Do as you just said."
After I hung up, the phone rang again.
This was an official notification from the boxing association, requiring him to attend a hearing at the Trump Plaza Hotel Conference Center at 3 p.m., and Victor said he would be there on time.
It was 10 a.m. After eating, Victor rested for a while before going to do strength training.
By 3 p.m., the conference center of the Tfamp Plaza Hotel was already packed with reporters, numbering about thirty or forty.
Lowell had arrived early and gave some instructions in the room.
As Victor, wearing sunglasses and a flight jacket, walked through the conference room door, a barrage of flashbulbs went off.
A Japanese reporter called out in heavily accented Chinese, "Li-san, what are your thoughts on Fujimoto becoming a vegetable?"
Viktor paused, then instinctively replied in Chinese, "Then he could also go and film the 'Husband's Eyes Offender' series..."
The reporter's face darkened, and Lowell immediately grabbed his arm: "Don't respond, don't say anything the lawyer said."
Inside the meeting room, the association's five committee members were already sitting upright.
The photos of past boxing champions hanging on the wall seemed to be scrutinizing him.
The hearing moderator, Maurice, cleared his throat: "Victor, we've reviewed the replay. The referee clearly called a stop, so why did you throw a punch?"
"I didn't hear it, the audience was too noisy!"
Victor sat down without taking off his sunglasses.
"And I thought Fujimoto was very resilient. He stood there bravely the whole time, refusing to fall, with his arms bent and ready to attack at any moment."
His voice was calm, and he didn't mind praising the living dead: "Fujimoto is a very strong warrior."
"The referee pulled you back, but you still threw the final punch!"
One person demanded, "How do you explain this?"
“I didn’t feel the referee pull me; I thought my pants were caught on something.”
Viktor shrugged: "You know, I have to focus on the game, I simply don't have the extra energy to pay attention to the perimeter."
The committee members exchanged a glance.
A man next to him adjusted his glasses: "Victor, this isn't a game. A good boxer should be able to control every punch. Remember Mike Tyson helping his opponent up after the fight—"
"I am not Michael."
Viktor suddenly laughed. "You want me to be like Tyson? Then next time I'll kiss my opponent's forehead."
The air in the meeting room froze.
Lowell kicked his shin hard under the table.
“Victor,”
Morris's voice turned serious. "The Japan Boxing Association has lodged a formal protest. Considering Fujimoto's status in the country, this has escalated into an international incident. We expect you to issue an apology statement."
Victor leaned back in his chair, his gaze sweeping over everyone's faces, then slammed his driver's license on the table:
"I am a U.S. citizen holding U.S. citizenship, and I clearly defeated my opponent in a public competition. I don't know what I did wrong?"
Morris insisted: "It was just an apology."
"Fujimoto doesn't need my apology. If Fujimoto Kyotaro does need it, I can take care of his wife and daughter as a sage from my hometown did."
Viktor stood up and said, word by word, "But if Fujimoto Kyotaro really wants to hold me accountable for the result in an absolutely fair match, then go talk to my legal counsel."
Morris didn't hear much of what Victor said, but he already knew Victor's firmness: "It's just an apology, Victor, it's not difficult..."
Viktor lost his patience, stood directly in front of the reporter, and began to spout nonsense:
"Everyone here has only seen the tragic outcome, including Fujimoto Kyotaro's family and those behind him, who will blame me for it."
However, Mr. Fujimoto did not think so. He and I had a fierce battle. We fought with all our might, evenly matched, and used all our methods. In the end, I was lucky enough to defeat him, so much so that I could not hold back and injured him.
There is only one reason why I will not apologize to him: I believe that Fujimoto also fell happily. He would not want me to pity him. He was a true samurai and did not need pity.
I hope that after he falls, no one will go against his wishes or use his name to cause trouble.
······
The following day, a third of the boxing sports sections across the United States were abuzz with Victor's remarks.
The Chicago Tribune, a newspaper from his hometown, ran the headline: "Ruthless Victory: The Tigers Win Their First Battle!"
The Los Angeles Times published a photo of Fujimoto lying in a hospital bed with the headline "A punch that changed a warrior";
The English version of the Japanese newspaper Asahi Shimbun was even more direct, with a headline that almost made Victor think he had grown blond hair: "Fujimoto's lifelong nemesis, the samurai spirit inspires Americans."
Lowell and Foucault's phones were ringing off the hook.
Foreign trade sponsors demanded to terminate their contracts, the training center received threatening letters, and someone even threw rotten eggs at Victor's apartment door—three days later, Frankie invited six Japanese Americans from the University of Chicago to take a 100-day trip to the bottom of Lake Michigan.
But strangely, as the incident unfolded, another voice began to emerge.
In a Detroit auto workers' bar, a news clip of Victor is playing on the television:
"That Japanese kid deserved it!"
A burly man in overalls slammed his fist on the table. "How many jobs have Toyota stolen from us? Now they even want to control the boxing ring?"
"Yes!"
Another person chimed in, "Victor is a real American boxer! The Japanese can't accept defeat!"
This sentiment spread rapidly through the industrial regions of the Midwest.
The massive influx of Japanese cars and electronics caused many American workers to lose their jobs, and Victor inadvertently became an outlet for their anger.
The Denver Post astutely observed this phenomenon, publishing an article titled "Boxing and Fighting: Life or Death at Your Own Risk."
Lowell felt it most clearly:
First, Trump contacted him, and after discussions, signed a five-fight contract with Victor, with a starting fee of $50,000 and an additional $20,000 for each subsequent fight. Trump also indicated that he would recommend several boxers.
Secondly, Chrysler approached Lowell and asked Victor to endorse a Jeep.
Chapter 79 Arrangement of the Five Matches
Trump Hotel's support was direct: Foucault, who had previously gone unselected, now had eleven candidates, from whom four boxers were chosen as Viktor's next opponents. They are:
Donovan Radok, nicknamed Razor, born in 1963, is a Canadian. He is 1 meters tall, weighs 238 pounds, and has a reach of 91 meters. He is known for his powerful punches and signature "Raddok Uppercut". His professional record is 2 wins and 08 losses.
Eddie Richardson (a boxing prodigy with a 6-0 record), Hector Mercedes (a boxing prodigy knocked out by Mike Tyson in his debut), and Donald Harpern (a boxing prodigy knocked out by Mike Tyson in his third fight).
Foucault bluntly told Viktor that, apart from Ruddock, the rest were all arranged by Trump.
Analyzing their purpose, it's very likely to create an atmosphere and raise their value—and the fifth game will definitely be a big hit.
That's how you create buzz!
福柯给出安排，7月19日迎战埃迪·理查森、8月15日迎战拉多克、9月5日迎战梅赛德斯、10月9日迎战唐纳德·哈珀恩。
······
On July 15, 1985, flashbulbs went off one after another in the conference room of the Trump Plaza Hotel in Atlantic City.
Victor sat in the center of the long table, listening expressionlessly to the barrage of questions from the reporters.
He was wearing a simple white T-shirt, his muscular physique stretching the shirt, and his tiger-like eyes and thick beard were particularly striking under the bright light.
“Mister Lee, you’ve only been a professional boxer for less than four months, and you’ve already scheduled four fights in the next three months. Isn’t that a bit too rushed?”
A sports reporter from The New York Times pushed up his glasses. "Some experts believe you may have undiagnosed violent tendencies."
Viktor tapped his fingers three times lightly on the table, a subtle gesture indicating his dissatisfaction.
Lowell Hadda nudged his ankle under the table to remind him to stay calm.
"I only follow my fighting spirit."
Victor's voice was deep, like an echo in a basement, and his Chicago accent made every word sound like it was encased in the copper shell of a Chicago typewriter: "The professional boxing ring is the real battlefield."
Foucault took the microphone and skillfully smoothed things over: "Viktor has a rare talent for boxing, and we are simply following the call of that talent. Mr. Trump also saw this, so he gave his full support."
The reporters exchanged glances.
Everyone knows that Trump likes boxers who generate buzz, and Viktor's public humiliation of Japanese boxer Kyotaro Fujimoto and the news of him beating Fujimoto into a vegetative state have made headlines in several newspapers.
After the signing ceremony, the three returned to their hotel suite.
Lowell took three bottles of beer from the minibar and bit off the caps with his teeth.
"The people from Fiat Chrysler are calling again,"
He handed the beer to Victor, "One million two hundred thousand over five years, and I'll give you a Jeep, as long as you drive this car for the next five years!"
Victor took the beer but didn't drink it, just stared at the condensation on the bottle: "Trying to get rid of a beggar?"
Lowell nearly choked on his beer. "Do you know how many boxers dream of a contract like this?"