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It was a cold night. The frosty air numbed his ears and nose. They felt alien to him as he reached up and touched them. Walking faster to get out of the snow, his shoes kicked up water and wet his socks. After jogging the rest of the way, he arrived at a rundown, desolate building and entered, only to be hit by the dank smell of sweat and blood mixed together.

'No place like home' he muttered. The smell became stronger as he entered the change rooms. The sound of his bag hitting the floor resounded in a thundering echo. He changed, quickly. When he emerged in more suitable apparel, and began strapping his hands, he was approached. With his head down, he ignored the figure in front of him. Yet it was persistent.

'You got a problem?' he asked, keeping his head bent, not caring to look up.

'Yeah I do. I ain't seen you in how long and you don't even say hello?' Recognising the voice, he looked up.

'Hey, hey, Fox. It's been a while.'

'Yeah it has. Jesus, look at you. Hey boys, look who it is. Jamie Thomas, back from the dead. Where you been?' Fox asked. 'Decided that all that fancy equipment couldn't replace us?'

'Yeah player. No fancy gym could replace his boys,' another voice said. All the other boxers had made their way over to see what all the commotion was about.

'Well, if you guys don't mind, maybe we could get practicing.' Thomas said. 'Hey Fox. Got any spare gloves?' Thomas began stretching while Fox grabbed a pair of gloves and a pair of focus mitts. They entered the ring. Thomas threw punches with power and fury. A few hits later Fox surrendered, his hands stinging from the battering they had received.

'Man, take it easy. What they been teaching you at that gym?'

'What? What's the problem?' Thomas asked. 'You wanna take it easy? It's just a warm-up! I'm sorry, Fox. I didn't mean to.' Thomas replied, embarrassed.

They continued, but eventually Fox couldn't handle the pain. He instructed Thomas to practice with the other boxers, who warmly accepted him. They were more than happy to welcome such a fighter into the group. After a taxing session, Thomas showered. The cold water cascaded down his naked body like a waterfall, refreshing and pure. He massaged his battered muscles, then dressed. When Thomas emerged, the other boxers had left, and Fox was left picking up skipping ropes and towels.

'Hey, Fox. Can I talk to you?' Thomas asked.

'Sure. What up?'

'Look. I want to come back. I've been thinking about it a lot and training in every spare moment.'

'I don't think''

'Just listen for a second,' Thomas interrupted. 'I was training at the new gym, and we had an amateur match going. A whole bunch of suits showed up and watched. After the match, my manager, Romeo Sorbara, came up to me and said they wanted to talk to me. He said that they were looking for boxing talent. Fox, Adidas want to sponsor me!'

'But you were convicted of assault! Do they know that?'

'Yes, they took that into account. I got a fine and a long-term suspension. Three years! It's over now; I've been offered a sponsorship and I'm ready.'

'So they've put the past behind them and they want you. Do they want you as an am or a pro? Are you going back to pro?'

'I really don't know yet, Fox. But if they give me a chance, then I'll go back. All I needed was a sponsor.'

'Okay, okay,' Fox answered, 'but bro, I gotta ask you. Why did you do it?

'Do what?'

'You know what I mean.' Fox said.

'Oh, Fox. He slept with my wife. Wouldn't you do the same?'

'Yeah, I couldn't believe he did that. Ernest Riley always struck me as a nice guy. Good boxer, too,' Fox added, 'But I dunno, bro. I'm not married, remember?' Thomas was sympathetic towards Fox. His heart was as pure as gold, but unfortunately, his looks left a little to be desired. With his chocolate brown skin, pug nose and thick, chapped lips, women didn't give him a chance to show his heart.

'Well, imagine that someone used your wife, not because he loved her, but just to spite you. You'd want to kill him too!'

'Did you try to kill him?' Fox asked, puzzled. From memory, Thomas had only tried to beat him down.

'I didn't. I went to screw him up some, but he knew I was coming somehow, and he had paparazzi with him.' Thomas explained. 'Right, so here's my problem. I've been offered a sponsorship. I have a manager. But I need a coach.'

'Let me run through this. You get suspended for assault. You keep training. You disappear for three years, and then you waltz in here like nothing's up, don't even say hello. Correct?'

'Uh, if you put it that way, yeah.' Thomas gulped.

'Then you ask if I'll coach you out of the blue. I've got one thing, and one thing only to say to you, pal.' Fox was poker faced. 'I think you know what my answer is.' A wide grin broke out on his face and with an enthusiastic yell, he shouted, 'Hell yeah!'

With the help of his manager, Thomas' sponsorship was followed through, and an event was organised. Since it was his debut following his sponsorship, the press made a big deal of he match. Adidas wanted him to start amateur level, and then jump him up to professional if he proved himself, but despite this, a big crowd turned out. They all wanted to see how the years had treated such a legend, and if he was up for the challenge. The clichéd butterflies filled his stomach. His nerves almost got the better of him as he left entered the ring. His opponent was a youth of 19, Jason Howard. He was a tall, lean boy, erect, and overly confident.

Fox whispered tactics into Thomas' ear. 'So, he's cocky. Too confident. I reckon he thinks that you're not ready, so keep that in mind. Play him. Use the peek-a-boo guard; he'll think you haven't got a chance. He's tall, long arms, so he's an out-fighter. He's gonna try and use his size against you. Keep that in mind. When he jabs, you bob with the peek-a-boo then come under him and let him know who's boss, okay?'

'Yep. Got it,' Thomas said, his words almost incomprehensible due to his mouthguard. 'But do I just win, or show them what I can do?' he asked.

'Well, I don't think you should let everyone know how much you've improved, but you need to be convincing enough to make Adidas put you up to pro. So be convincing, but don't let it all out.'

The referee signalled for Thomas and Howard to make their way to their respective corners and prepare to fight. Thomas stripped off his gown and wiped the sweat from his face. Even though it was freezing outside due to the snow, the number of bodies that had piled into the arena changed the temperature dramatically. The roar of the crowd surrounding the ring bombarded Thomas' ears. One spectator, obviously not a fan, spat on Jamie's face.

'Keep your cool, Jamie,' Fox shouted above the drone of the crowd. 'He wants you to retaliate. Ignore him!'

The referee whistled, and the first bout began. Thomas did as Fox instructed, keeping his distance and playing dumb. He blocked a fast series of accurate jabs with a beginner's guard. Howard's confidence was boosted over a false understanding that Thomas had forgotten how to box.

'You're gone, old man. You got nothin' on me!' he taunted. Howard threw a flurry of punches, which Thomas blocked once more. The first round finished with both boxers unscathed. The crowd was discontented and began cheering louder, to encourage a more vicious fight. The second round commenced with Thomas throwing a cross punch at Howard, which connected satisfyingly. He recoiled, surprised, but not hurt. After receiving a blow, Howard became more aggressive, even though his advantage with long arms was to fight at a distance, he came in closer to throw more powerful, damaging punches. As soon as the first was thrown, Thomas was up like a jackrabbit, and, belying Howard's conception, demonstrated his ability.