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"When at a young age you learn to face your fears, that makes the difference between people being champions and people not being champions." - Evander "The Real Deal" Holyfield, former undisputed heavyweight champion of the world.

Martin ran for Sully's gym, but this was not his usual morning exercise, nor was he interested in exercise at the moment. If was now in the afternoon and the young wolf had a letter in his paws that was making him panic. He was hoping his trainer would be able to do something about it. He ran threw the double doors of the gyms front entrance, causing them to fly open and hit the gym walls. Sully was getting Martin's tiger friend in sparring gear when he turned around after hearing such a racket.

"The hell's going on, pup?" said the bulldog. "You runnin' from the cops?"

Martin, panting, held the letter up in the air. "Sully, I got a letter from the New York State Athletic Commission."

"NYSAC?" said Sully. "What do they want?"

"I think they know about my age," said Martin as he handed the letter over to the old bulldog.

Sully took his reading glasses out of his front pocket and read the letter. In it, the Commission was requesting further proof that Martin was actually at least eighteen years of age. The truth was, Martin had signed a contract to get his boxing license while he was still seventeen and he would not turn eighteen until June 24th of that year. Sully's blood ran cold when he read the part of the letter that said failure to comply with their request would result in the revocation of Martin's boxing license if the proper documentation was not submitted by May 31, which was before his big fight with Bruno Calypso. The letter ended by saying that there could also be possible fines of up to $25,000 if NYSAC learned that fraud had occurred to obtain Martin's license to fight. Sully put his right paw over his face.

"I was worried something like this might happen," he said, giving the wolf a worried look. "This is bad, pup. Really, really bad."

"I only lied about my age so I could make money to support my family," said Martin. "I mean, if they're so concerned with my well-being, then maybe they could give my mom more money in her public assistance check, huh? Maybe then seventeen year-old kids wouldn't have to go into prize-fighting."

"Is there anything you can do, Sully?" asked Josh, no doubt concerned about his friend's fighting career.

"I'm not sure," said Sully. "If they find out it was me that sent 'em the fake ID's, I'm looking at having my training license revoked as well Martin getting his license taken away."

"You're not throwing him under the bus, are you?" said Josh.

"Hell no," said Sully. "Martin?"

Martin, who'd been sitting on the gym boxing ring with his paws covering his face, looked over at his trainer. "What?"

"Look," said Sully, trying to make the wolf feel better. "I know things look bad right now."

"They sure do," said Martin. "I don't have that kind of money to pay the commission if they find out I was lying."

"I know that," said Sully, growing irritated. Being new to the heavyweight division, Martin's purses in all his previous fights had been quite small compared to what the heavyweight champion or top contenders made, and what money he had made he was using to get his mother out of debt, into a better apartment and to get his brother a good lawyer for an appeal. Paying a $25,000 fine would be beyond crippling to him.

"Look," said Sully. "I know things look bad right now and you're scared. I know you're scared, but I just got an idea that might make this all go away."

"What the plan?" asked Martin.

"I know somebody who's got some real pull with NYSAC," said Sully. "If he don't got the clout, I don't know what the hell we're gonna do."

"If that's what you want to do, fine by me," said Martin. "I just know that I really need my cut of the purse from the next fight. That'll really turn things around for me."

"I know, I know, pup," said Sully. "And if you beat Bruno, I guarantee you that you'll be on the path to the heavyweight title, and that's when the purses get real juicy and fat."

The thought of getting some multimillion dollar purse made Martin feel much better. He knew that if he won the undisputed, lineal heavyweight title, he would never have to worry about money again because he planned on getting financial advisers who would help him in investing wisely. It also made the young wolf cringe when he thought of all the fighters who made it big, only to blow through every penny they ever made and end up working as greeters at Las Vegas casinos, or junkies out on the streets, wishing they were dead. He would have none of that. He was gong to do the right things with his earnings.

"I really hope whatever you're planning is gonna work," said Martin.

"It better," said Sully. "Or we're in deep shit, Martin. Real deep shit."

Martin kept up his training, despite worrying that NYSAC might revoke his license and give him the maximum fine of $25,000. Sully told him that he had to train like that wasn't even on his mind; like he never even got the letter in the first place. Sully got more sparring partners for Martin; all of them big, tall bulky guys that resembled the build of Bruno. Martin kept focusing on the fight, spending most of the day training. He did everything Sully asked of him and more, and soon the initial shock of getting a letter demanding proof of his age from NYSAC had almost vanished completely from his mind.

On the first day of May, Martin woke up and cracked open two eggs, dumping them in a glass. He hated the taste of raw eggs, but drank them down anyway before his morning run. He put his sweat pants and hooded sweatshirt on, but before he left, he cracked open the door to his mother's room, seeing her sleeping there. He thought about how she had told him she was proud of him for everything he'd done to help her out after his father died. The reality was that his late father was a terrible drunk and wife beater who was always in between jobs. Martin remembered how satisfied he'd been the day he came home to deal with his father after seeing him screaming at his mother, threatening to beat her brains out with a hammer while she was locked in the bathroom.

Either his father hadn't noticed or hadn't cared that for the past two years, Martin had been going to Sully's gym to learn how to box. Martin had gone from a scrawny, malnourished wolf, to a lean, mean fighting machine. Walking into the apartment and seeing his drunken father with the hammer in his paws, beating on the door, he went over, grabbed hold of him and threw him to the floor. His father was stunned. Martin had never done anything like that before. Still lying on the floor, his father threw the hammer at Martin, who skillfully dodged out of its path. His father got to his feet, and Martin put his paws up in a fighting stance. For too long, the young wolf was forced to endure his father's abuse of his mother, as well as himself, but today was different, today his father was going to get his comeuppance.

Martin's father moved toward him, but was wobbly from all the scotch he'd been drinking before coming home. Martin didn't let his father's lack of coordination bother him in the least. The older wolf moved in, throwing a wild right hook. Martin easily moved out of the way and came back, sending a flurry of left jabs to his father's nose. The older wolf stumbled back from the quick, flicking jabs. He rubbed his nose with his right paw and looked at it. Martin had caused him to have a nose bleed. Now he was far more pissed at his youngest son than he ever was with his wife. Charging the young wolf as he screamed, he was met with a series of devastating punches. No longer was Martin throwing quick, flicking jabs. The boy had escalated to the power punches in boxing.

His first power shot was a hard left hook to the liver that sent his father back on the ground again. He watched as his father howled in pain from being hit in such a sensitive area. Martin stood over him and had the chance to kick him when he was down, but decided to fight like a true gentleman, as boxing was a gentleman's sport. He baked up as his father slowly rose to his feet. The older wolf rapidly shook his head, trying to regain his senses. He threw a straight right at Martin, but the younger, quicker wolf again moved out of the way. Moving back into the inside, Martin threw another left hook just underneath his father' ribcage and sent him to the floor again. The young wolf asked his father to knock it off, but the older wolf couldn't be reasoned with. Rising to his feet yet again, he screamed as he charged his youngest son. Martin threw a flurry of punches that rocked his father. He caught him with a left hook to the ear, a right uppercut to the muzzle and dug into his body once more, pulverizing him with a series of left and right hooks to his sides. His father moved back, stunned by the blows his son had delivered, he was beyond pissed. Screaming at the top of his lungs, he made a last ditch effort to teach his son a lesson. Martin had backed up, anticipating that his father would charge him again. He watched as the older wolf came barreling forward him. Reaching back, summoning all of his strength and courage, the young wolf delivered a straight right paw that connected to his father's muzzle, sending him sprawling unconscious the floor.

With his father down for the count, he knocked on the bathroom door, telling his mother that it was safe to come out. Margaret McGregor, a small, petite wolf came out of the bathroom, seeing her husband lying unconscious on the floor. Martin, her youngest son, said that he was calling the police to have his father arrested for attempted murder. The police arrived, seeing that Martin's father was conscious, but had no fight left in him. Shortly before they had arrived, the young wolf told his father if he ever threatened his mother again, he would kill him. Luckily for Martin, his father died a month later from alcohol related illness.

Martin saw his mother lying there, sleeping peacefully, knowing that his father would never, ever come back to threaten her, to beat her and call her all kinds of repugnant names. His oldest brother had went into the Army to get away from all the crime and poverty in the Bronx, and his other brother was locked up, so he was the man of the house now. He wasn't fighting for fame, glory, or to become some household name. He was fighting to make a better life for himself and his mother. He slowly, quietly closed the door to her bedroom feeling inspired to train that much harder after thinking about how much he loved his mother. Now, he had to go train to beat Bruno Calypso, or he would just be another pretender, another bum who really didn't have what it took to become a champion.

That morning, Martin had his fastest run time ever. Sully told him how proud he was that no matter what, Martin was training his heart out. At almost eighty years old, the old bulldog thought back on his long, stories career in the world of boxing. He'd become a lightweight champion when he was twenty-four, lost it two years later, but quickly regained it in a rematch. He'd fought long and hard before hanging up his gloves and entering the world of training. Dozens and dozens of fighters had come through his gym, but there was something special about Martin. He had a certain drive, a spark, that the old bulldog had never seen in any fighter he'd ever trained before. The young wolf had a work ethic like no other, always going beyond what was expected of him.

Sully went over to Martin, who was being spotted by his friend Josh. The wolf had increased his usual bench pressing weight by more than twenty pounds, and still he was pushing the barbell like it was going to be made illegal any second now. Sully saw the strained look on the wolf's face as he struggled to push the bar up for a final time. Martin somehow managed to do it, with Josh taking hold of it and putting it in the rest position. Martin sat up, feeling light-headed.

"Just plant your ass there for now, pup," said Sully.

"Good idea," said Martin, still feeling his head spin from the intense workout.

"How do you think Martin's doing, Sully?" asked Josh.

"Josh, Martin's working harder than I've ever seen anyone work in my whole life," said Sully.

"Wow," said Martin, regaining his sense. "Your whole life? Two hundred years is a long time."

Josh laughed at the remark, but Sully swatted the young wolf. "Smart-ass," growled Sully. "You watch it or you're gonna be steppin' in the ring with me, pup."

"Sorry," said Martin.

"Hey," said Sully, reaching into his pocket and pulling out some money. "You two go down to the deli right now and get yourselves something to eat. I've got some stuff to do and I don't want bothered."

Martin and Josh looked at each other, puzzled by the gesture. Sully had never given them money before, or told them to leave to get some lunch. Whatever the bulldog's reasons for such an act were, neither the wolf or tiger were going to question ti. Martin took a towel from the weight bench and wiped his head off and the two of them left the gym and headed for the deli three blocks away.

"What was all that about?" asked Josh.

"I don't have the foggiest idea," said Martin. "I just know when Sully says something like that, it's just easier to do what he says without questioning it."

"I know what you mean," said Josh, looking up at the bright blue sky. This particular Saturday morning in late April had been a particularly pleasant one, with not a cloud in the sky.

Once the two boys got to the deli, they decided they would eat their meal there rather than take it back to the gym. Something told them that Sully wanted the two to stay away from the gym for a while, so they stayed put, taking their time and talking about the upcoming fight.

"You nervous, fighting a big guy like Bruno?" asked Josh before taking a sip of his soft drink.

"Can't afford to be nervous," said Martin. "Every time I step into the ring, I've gotta be emotionally dead."

"Emotionally dead?" said Josh.

"It's the only way I can stick to my game plan," said Martin. "If I get in the ring and I'm mad, or scared or whatever, I lose focus. My only objective is to beat my opponent, and I can't let myself get psyched out by how scary he might look, or what he might say to me."

"Sounds like a good approach," said Josh.

"It's worked so far," said Martin. "But really, right here and now, I am nervous about fighting Bruno. He's bigger, stronger and more experienced than me, so he has the advantage."

"Bet you're faster," said Josh. "Big guy like that can't be too swift."

"I can't afford to underestimate him there either," said Martin. "I've seen him fight, and he moves pretty fast for his size. My biggest hope is that lugging all that weight around, he'll start to tire out, but I can't depend on that either."

"So what is the plan?" said Josh. "I know I've been sparring with you, but it's gonna be way different fighting him than it is me."

"Gonna beat him on points," said Martin. "I'm not looking for some knockout in this fight. Sure, I've knocked out other fighters . . ."

"And your Dad," said Josh.

"That bastard deserved it," said Martin. "Anyway, Sully told me yesterday before I left that he was bringing in some guy who's gonna help me work on my jab."

"Who's that?" said Josh.

"Don't know," said Martin. "He didn't volunteer a name and I wasn't gonna ask either. Don't question Sully too much."

"Right," said Josh. "You ready to head back?"

"Sure," said Martin, getting out of his chair. "Think we've stayed out of Sully's fur long enough."

The two teens made the three block journey back to Sully's gym, still wondering who it was that Sully had gotten to be Martin's jab coach. They opened the double doors of the gym and saw the old bulldog standing in front of his office.

"You two get in here right now," said Sully, growling at them.

They looked at each, wondering what it was they had done wrong, but didn't say a word as they went towards Sully's office. The old bulldog had the door closed, standing in the gym.

"You ready to meet the guy who's gonna get your jab really workin'?" said Sully.

"I sure am," said Martin.

Sully grinned and opened the door. "Well, then come in and say hello to him."

Martin and Josh watched as the old bulldog opened the door, but they were not prepared for what they were about to see. Standing there in Sully's office was a figure recognized the world over. A tall, good-looking lion that Martin had idolized ever since first seeing his fighting films. Both of the boys, especially Martin felt their knees grow weak.

"Oh my god," said Martin. "You're . . . you're."

The lion grinned. "Yes, Martin. I'm Mufasa Ali."

Martin saw the lion extend his paw in friendship, and he took hold of it. This was unlike anything he'd ever experienced in his almost eighteen years of life. Standing in front of the lion, shaking his paw, Martin could feel a glow radiating from the former heavyweight champion of the world. To stand in the presence of Ali was to stand in the presence of greatness.

"I'm honored to meet you, sir," said Martin.

Ali extended his paw to Josh and the tiger shook it warmly. "I'm honored to meet you too, sir," he said.

"Sully called me up a while back and said you were having some problems with NYSAC," said the lion.

"I still am, sir," said Martin.

"Not anymore," said Ali. "I talked to the commissioner and told him that there was no problem and that my friend Sully would never let a fighter do something dishonest. He said to have me tell you personally to just throw out that letter you got awhile back."

"Wow," said Martin, feeling relieved. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," said Ali.

"Hey," said Josh. "You said your friend Sully? You two know each other?"

"Indeed we do," said Sully. "I was Ali's first trainer when he was starting out He fired me after I punched him in the balls for mouthing off to me."

"You dick punched Mufasa Ali?" asked Martin, unable to believe the story.

"He sure did," said Ali, laughing. "Years later, I realized that I was way too cocky and full of myself back then, so I went and apologized to Sully for firing him."

"But not for punching you," said Sully.

"Not for that," said Ali. "I have my limits on what I'll forgive."

Martin and Josh both laughed at the lion's words. "I really am grateful that you took care of my NYSAC problem, sir. Really, I was worried that I was gonna end up stripped of my license and having to pay the commission some huge fine."

"It's all in the past, son," said Ali. "What we have to concentrate on now is the future."

"Right," said Martin. "Sully's gonna help with that by getting me some guy who's gonna make me have a great jab."

Josh finally had to ask the question. "Sully, who the hell is this mystery guy that you're getting for Martin's jabbing anyway?"

Sully grinned, pointing his paw at the lion. "You're looking at him."

Martin couldn't believe it. He was getting Mufasa Ali, "The Greatest" to help him with his jab. It was like something out of a dream or movie. He thought about Bruno's greater strength, longer reach, taller figure, and it dawned on him that with Ali helping him, he now had a big advantage over "The Creole Destroyer".