Raymond increased the intensity of his conditioning sessions. They worked on defensive positioning, controlled combinations, and the ability to maintain focus when tired.
Martin continued teaching him the fundamentals.
No dramatic sparring matches.
One morning, Martin placed a chair in the middle of the training floor.
"Walk around it," he instructed.
Tyler stared at the chair.
"That's the exercise?"
"Yes."
Tyler walked around it.
"Again."
Martin shook his head.
"You're turning too sharply."
Tyler stopped.
"It's a chair."
"Your opponent won't always be moving the way you expect, either."
Martin pointed to the chair's legs.
"Imagine that this is the center of your opponent's position. You need to move around it without crossing your feet, losing balance, or allowing yourself to become trapped against the ropes."
Tyler began again.
Martin changed the exercise. He asked Tyler to circle the chair while maintaining a consistent distance. Then he instructed him to step in, move out, and change direction without allowing his weight to drift too far forward.
After twenty minutes, Tyler was sweating heavily.
"How long are we doing this?"
"Until you stop asking."
Tyler laughed despite himself.
By the end of the session, Tyler's movements had become smoother. He was beginning to recognize when his body wanted to rush ahead of his feet and how to correct the imbalance before it became a problem.
Martin nodded.
"Better."
Tyler wiped his face.
"I think I'm starting to understand."
"Good. Understanding is useful."
"Is that the part where you tell me I still have a long way to go?"
"No."
Tyler looked surprised.
Martin added, "You already know that."
Later that afternoon, Raymond arranged a controlled sparring session with a southpaw partner to help Tyler prepare for Marcus's style.
Tyler maintained his distance, used his jab effectively, and avoided chasing his partner when the man stepped away.
In the second round, however, Tyler absorbed a clean counterpunch after overcommitting to a combination.
Raymond called for a break.
"Stop!"
Tyler stepped away, breathing hard.
"What?"
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
Raymond shook his head.
"You got hit, and you stopped thinking."
Tyler pulled off his mouthguard.
"I was trying to respond."
"You were trying to punish him."
Tyler glanced toward his sparring partner, who stood quietly near the ropes.
Raymond continued.
"Marcus will hit you. He will land punches you don't expect. He will make you uncomfortable. If every clean shot becomes a personal insult, you'll spend the fight chasing revenge instead of looking for opportunities."
Tyler wiped sweat from his forehead.
"I know."
"Then show me."
This time, Tyler remained calmer after absorbing a jab. He moved away, regained his balance, and waited for his partner to commit before responding.
When the session ended, Raymond nodded.
"That's progress."
Tyler sat on the edge of the ring.
Martin approached with a towel.
"How did it go?"
"I got hit."
Martin handed him the towel.
"That tends to happen in boxing."
Tyler laughed.
"I also lost my temper."
"And what did you do afterward?"
"I corrected it."
Martin nodded.
"Then you learned something."
Tyler looked toward the ring.
"Do you think I'm ready for Marcus?"
Martin considered the question carefully.
"I think you are more prepared than you were three weeks ago."
"That's not what I asked."
"I know."
Tyler sighed.
"Can you just tell me whether I'll win?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't know."
Tyler looked frustrated.
Martin continued.
"You can prepare properly. You can make good decisions. You can fight with discipline and courage. None of those things guarantees victory."
"But they determine what kind of fighter you are when the result becomes uncertain."
Tyler stared at the floor.
"I don't know how to stop caring so much about winning."
Martin sat beside him.
"You don't have to stop caring."
Tyler looked up.
"You don't?"
"No. Winning matters in competition. The mistake is believing it matters more than everything else."
Martin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"You can want to win without treating defeat as a catastrophe. You can work hard without believing that effort entitles you to a particular result. You can be proud of your performance without needing everyone to admire you."
Tyler listened.
"That sounds difficult."
"It is."
"Did you ever manage it?"
"Sometimes."
Tyler smiled faintly.
"That's encouraging."
Martin laughed.
"Good. I wasn't trying to encourage you."
They sat together for several minutes, watching the last fighters finish their sessions.
Then Tyler asked, "Are you going to the ceremony?"
Martin nodded.
"I am."
"Good."
"And you?"
Tyler frowned.
"What about me?"
"Your fight is three weeks away. You have been training hard, but I have noticed something."
Tyler waited.
"You are becoming so focused on proving that you have changed that you may be forgetting why you began."
Tyler looked down at his hands.
He knew what Martin meant.
He had started training differently because he wanted to become a better fighter. Along the way, he had also begun wanting to prove that he was no longer the arrogant man in the video.
Tyler took a breath.