10
‘That’s it, my son! Left hook, quick in with an uppercut on the right — yes! Come on, feel that burn!’
Tyrone Golds grunted as the beads of sweat cascaded over his eyebrows and splashed gently to the floor, the salty sting getting in his eyes as he felt the lactic acid build up in his arms. It was a feeling he loved — something that made him feel free and liberated. He’d been boxing since he was six, and he adored every second of it.
A couple of hours with the punchbag in his local boxing club was his idea of a morning well spent. And having someone like Kai here to spot him and spur him on was an added bonus. Friends and trainers had always said he could have performed competitively — perhaps even professionally — but that had never interested him. He liked the spit-and-sawdust back
