Frank had developed complications in his stomach and sought medical treatment.
March '31, South End at Dr.Martin's Clinic
"Aren't you Frank Washington, the famous boxer?"
"I'm Frank Washington, but not the famous boxer anymore. I guess you're not following the latest updates".
"Maybe i'm not, but you're a good boxer no doubts about it! Tell me what troubles you Frank? How can i help you...?"
Dr.Martin was a graduate from Emory University. He had his grounding in the South End but unlike most of his peers, a few wise decisions meant he could live a life of relative ease. He chose to practice in his neighbourhood, whatever little contribution he could manage for his locality.
"My stomach's been giving me trouble for sometime. I don't know what's the reason. It's certainly not because of mah diet though..."
"Is it the stomach that troubles you or your mind, Frank...?"
"Hell! What're you talking about Doc? I don'understand you!"
"You're troubled because you're having something in your mind. Is that not so, nigger?"
"How'd you know that Doc? Geez, i'm, i'm..."
(Something seriously didn't seem to be right the way Dr.Martin was talking. He was never a violent or angry person)
"You's a niggah boy, you's a niggah and'll remain just another niggah. You'll always be 'neath the white man's shoe niggah, that's where you belong..."
"You's talking just like Joe, Doc. You's talking just like Joe..."
"Joe 'Hammerhand' Carver? Yes i'm mouthing the same words he said to you on your last bout with him!"
"Here's what i'll tell you Frank. You can remain a local tough, fighting bouts down here in South End, and never making it back upto the Premiere League where you once were. You'll remain here until you decide to do something about your fear..."
"And what you think is ma fear Doc?"
"Your butterfly move's never ever been defeated before. You've never fought someone who fought like Carver. That's your fear, the fear of the unknown. You're also afraid of your colour. Carver only had to play on your fear of your colour. You're nothing more than a hulk of meat, black boy!"
"You's right Doc, maybe i am. Carver's words still echo..."
"I was there for that bout. I saw him wind you and heard him say just what now haunts you. But why should you let your fear take control of you? You're a nobody Frank, just another nobody. And so's Joe 'Hammerhand' Carver. All you've got to do is focus on what's coming at you. Forget the outcome, forget what'll happen to you, forget everything, everyone around you. FOCUS only on what's coming before you."
"Those fists that's coming toward you, all you have to do is fight them. Never mind who's driving those fists, you have to cut down the driver with your blows, and you have it..."
"Outside, you're another black man among thousands of us here. But in that ring, you could become a God if you want to be. All you have to do is, focus..."
April 1932, New York
"Joe 'Hammerhand' meets his old nemesis Frank Washington after 3 years!" The criers went hoarse screaming out loud and the arena was packed to suffocation.
"We meet agin, nigger! I guess its time for you to relax agin, on the floor!" Joe remarked snidely
Joe's wild freestyle blows swing around Frank as Frank dances in tandem.
Joe then pulls in his feint, allowing Frank to throw in a haymaker at his unguarded face. Frank closes in for the kill, and...
"Frank throws in a haymaker but Joe coolly steps out and drives in a haymaker of his own. Ladies and gentlemen, the coupe de grace..."
"What's this? Frank has deflected the haymaker! Can you believe it???"
What follows next? Frank seemingly dribbles Joe's jaw, never allowing him a moment's defence. The pounding has been relentless and Joe desperately tries to block the incoming rain of blows.
"Frank's now preparing for his charge. He's priming his aim like a bull. And there he goes, ladies and gentlemen!"
The punch crashes straight into Joe's face, knocking teeth and his senses out at the same time. Joe falls flat facedown out cold.
"Change is good" Frank mutters to himself.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a new champion! Frank Washington, the Bull!"
"Bull, Bull, Bull,Bull, Bull" the crowd's chanting in fever pitch.
Epilogue: In case you're wondering how'd this happen, Frank had been touring, watching each and every tournament Joe fought, and studied his moves. He discovered Joe's tactic, and all that he had to do was, work around it...
March '31, South End at Dr.Martin's Clinic
"Aren't you Frank Washington, the famous boxer?"
"I'm Frank Washington, but not the famous boxer anymore. I guess you're not following the latest updates".
"Maybe i'm not, but you're a good boxer no doubts about it! Tell me what troubles you Frank? How can i help you...?"
Dr.Martin was a graduate from Emory University. He had his grounding in the South End but unlike most of his peers, a few wise decisions meant he could live a life of relative ease. He chose to practice in his neighbourhood, whatever little contribution he could manage for his locality.
"My stomach's been giving me trouble for sometime. I don't know what's the reason. It's certainly not because of mah diet though..."
"Is it the stomach that troubles you or your mind, Frank...?"
"Hell! What're you talking about Doc? I don'understand you!"
"You're troubled because you're having something in your mind. Is that not so, nigger?"
"How'd you know that Doc? Geez, i'm, i'm..."
(Something seriously didn't seem to be right the way Dr.Martin was talking. He was never a violent or angry person)
"You's a niggah boy, you's a niggah and'll remain just another niggah. You'll always be 'neath the white man's shoe niggah, that's where you belong..."
"You's talking just like Joe, Doc. You's talking just like Joe..."
"Joe 'Hammerhand' Carver? Yes i'm mouthing the same words he said to you on your last bout with him!"
"Here's what i'll tell you Frank. You can remain a local tough, fighting bouts down here in South End, and never making it back upto the Premiere League where you once were. You'll remain here until you decide to do something about your fear..."
"And what you think is ma fear Doc?"
"Your butterfly move's never ever been defeated before. You've never fought someone who fought like Carver. That's your fear, the fear of the unknown. You're also afraid of your colour. Carver only had to play on your fear of your colour. You're nothing more than a hulk of meat, black boy!"
"You's right Doc, maybe i am. Carver's words still echo..."
"I was there for that bout. I saw him wind you and heard him say just what now haunts you. But why should you let your fear take control of you? You're a nobody Frank, just another nobody. And so's Joe 'Hammerhand' Carver. All you've got to do is focus on what's coming at you. Forget the outcome, forget what'll happen to you, forget everything, everyone around you. FOCUS only on what's coming before you."
"Those fists that's coming toward you, all you have to do is fight them. Never mind who's driving those fists, you have to cut down the driver with your blows, and you have it..."
"Outside, you're another black man among thousands of us here. But in that ring, you could become a God if you want to be. All you have to do is, focus..."
April 1932, New York
"Joe 'Hammerhand' meets his old nemesis Frank Washington after 3 years!" The criers went hoarse screaming out loud and the arena was packed to suffocation.
"We meet agin, nigger! I guess its time for you to relax agin, on the floor!" Joe remarked snidely
Joe's wild freestyle blows swing around Frank as Frank dances in tandem.
Joe then pulls in his feint, allowing Frank to throw in a haymaker at his unguarded face. Frank closes in for the kill, and...
"Frank throws in a haymaker but Joe coolly steps out and drives in a haymaker of his own. Ladies and gentlemen, the coupe de grace..."
"What's this? Frank has deflected the haymaker! Can you believe it???"
What follows next? Frank seemingly dribbles Joe's jaw, never allowing him a moment's defence. The pounding has been relentless and Joe desperately tries to block the incoming rain of blows.
"Frank's now preparing for his charge. He's priming his aim like a bull. And there he goes, ladies and gentlemen!"
The punch crashes straight into Joe's face, knocking teeth and his senses out at the same time. Joe falls flat facedown out cold.
"Change is good" Frank mutters to himself.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a new champion! Frank Washington, the Bull!"
"Bull, Bull, Bull,Bull, Bull" the crowd's chanting in fever pitch.
Epilogue: In case you're wondering how'd this happen, Frank had been touring, watching each and every tournament Joe fought, and studied his moves. He discovered Joe's tactic, and all that he had to do was, work around it...
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