Of the four fighters the Steelworkers’ Boxing Club sent to the finals, Kid Dynamite was considered the most likely to win. And as the lightest fighter from the club, he was the first to go up. He hadn’t slept the night before the fight, but then he never did. As soon as Lolo taped his hands, Kid Dynamite began to shadowbox. After fifteen minutes of this, Juan forced him to sit down on a folding chair. The coach pulled a chair adjacent to him. “You know the game plan?”

Kid Dynamite nodded. He was dripping with sweat.

Juan looked at him intently. “Louie Reine had trouble making weight. Five hours in the steamroom, and three trips to the scales. Don’t make your move until the end of the second round. If he’s still strong then, wait until the third. Are you listening to me?”

“The old man called me. He said I should jump all over him.”

Juan, normally implacable, registered disbelief, “Your old man, who’s in a mental hospital two thousand miles away, told you this?”

“Yeah,” Kid Dynamite said.

“Well, what do you think you should do?”

“It doesn’t matter, Juan. I’m going to win tonight. I can feel it. I don’t care what he does; I’m going to kick his motherfucking ass. I’ve been waiting a year to get this cocksucker.”

“So you’re going to do a job on him? No plan, no nothing! Just kick ass!” Juan shook his head in dismay. “Well, I hope you do. Just remember, the crowd will be with him tonight. It won’t be your crowd.”

Kid Dynamite got up and started twisting his neck from side to side, bouncing up and down. Lolo ducked into the locker room. He grabbed the spit bucket and water bottle. “Let’s go, Kid, you’re up.”

Kid Dynamite entered the arena and climbed up the portable wooden steps to the ring. Louis Reine was already in the opposite corner, his red hair shorn in a buzz cut. There wasn’t a drop of sweat on him. He looked the same as he had the year before. Kid Dynamite turned away, bracing his gloves against the ropes as he rubbed his shoes in the resin box. He flexed his neck and bounced up and down in his corner trying to shake off the butterflies. The referee called both fighters to the center of the ring, reminded both fighters that they had received their instructions in the dressing room, and wished them both luck.