A few days later, Reading…
The Iron Borough Boxing Club is already alive with the usual violence of a boxing gym pretending to be a perfectly normal workplace. Heavy bags swing from the rafters, skipping ropes slap against the canvas, and the air carries the familiar mixture of sweat, leather, disinfectant, and someone's regrettable breakfast.
In the centre ring, Malik Adebayo is sparring with a domestic contender, while half the gym has quietly stopped pretending to be busy.
"Don't let him set his feet. And stay on the outside."
"There. Again."
"Don't chase the head! The body! Punish him on the body."
"He's giving you the angle. Take it."
"Two and out."
"That's the distance. Don't lose it."
"Again, Malik. Same entry. Make him turn."
Malik moves with the pendulum principles of the old Soviet school, only with considerably less interest in taking his time to dance.
