On November 13, Eric Bazinyan and Steven Butler hold a showdown in Montreal

In late autumn in Montreal, the wind swept the water vapor of the St. Lawrence River into the city center, but the boxing ring lights on the top of a certain entertainment city were like freshly baked copper plates, which were so bright. On November 13, there is no longer only the collision of roulette and chips, but a "same-school killing each other" will be staged - Eric Bazinyan and Steven Butler, two boxers under Eye of the Tiger, finally moved the grudge into the four sides. There were no outsiders who went to the line, and no promoters changed their words. This time, they could only defeat the other party by themselves.

The last time Bajinyang heard the opening bell was in September last year. That night, Mexican Munugia rushed forward like a tide. He gritted his teeth and lasted for ten rounds, but his ankle seemed to be secretly sawed, and it was swollen into steamed buns after the game. The diagnosis was cold like ice: torn ligament, recuperating for half a year. The sandbag in the training hall was taken off, the mirror was covered with cloth, and he walked through the corridor with crutches, hearing his heartbeat louder than the timer. "I'm thirty years old, so I can't lie until thirty-one." So at four o'clock in the morning, he dragged his plaster foot for push-ups, biting the bandage all over his teeth marks. Now, when the cast is replaced with gloves, he stood in front of the media camera, his voice low but steady: "I am 100% healthy, not the doctor said, but in my heart."

Butler was not idle during his days of recuperation. It turned out that he was playing in the middleweight category, so he simply raised his weight to 168 pounds. Last November, he defeated his old rival Marcias in four rounds, tearing down his mistakes four years ago. The photographer next to the boxing ring caught him looking back at the camera, as if saying: See, I'm waiting for Bajinyang here. In fact, the two were going to meet last year, the contract was signed, the poster was posted, and the tickets were shorted, but Bajinyang's ankle was damaged with a "click" in the training camp, and the competition was stuck; the spring was scheduled again, and the promotion company crashed again. Butler treated the two withdrawals as a scoreboard, "two to zero", and he stretched out two fingers to shake it to the reporter, "The third time, I will rewrite the score to three to zero, but this time I don't need to calculate the points."

Brothers of the same school, why are the gunpowder smells so strong? Estyban, the president of Tiger Eye, knows best. He picked up Armenian teenager Bazinyan from the community center on the north shore of Montreal, and he also pulled Butler from the chaotic streets of the south shore into the boxing gym. The two of them ran through the mountain road in the early morning together, and were yelled by old coach Dekari to his ears numb, but they walked further and further on the scale. One is used to dragging the opponent into deep water and drowning the opponent with rhythm; the other is believed in solving the game within four rounds, and the fist looks like a hammer to find nails. The style is incompatible and one is destined to live a "facade".

For this civil war, Bajinyang changed corners. Decari Derole took the towel and bleeding cotton and became the new owner of the boxing ring. Old Dekari brought out the world boxing champion, trained mathematical formulas, and divided every minute into seconds. Bajinyang said: "He told me to learn how to hit the ground first and how to hide my back in the jab." Butler's side was still under the pressure of his father, Old Butler, and the father and son hung sandbags in the boxing gymnasium transformed in the garage. Screenshots of Bajinyang being hit by Munugia were posted on the wall, and the red ballpoint pen circled the moment he dropped his hand. "He was not hurting his ankle, but courage." Old Butler muttered in Quebec French. The 13th November match also contains gunpowder. Santa Na, who won all fourteen games, will continue to write a clean record in front of his fellow villagers; Finderro, a "black rhino" from Cameroon, Africa, made his opponent count down ten games in twelve games. This time, he played ten rounds for the first time, and he said, "It's better to prepare two stretchers." Olympic bronze medalist Sanford made his fifth appearance this year, and his goal is not to win, but to save up the rounds to pave the way for the intercontinental title next year; there is also nineteen-year-old Daren Perpan, a small town darling, who moves wooden boards in a timber factory during the day and wears boxing gloves at night. The first professional battle will be kicked under the casino headlights. His mother said, "If you lose, the truck will have to pay the loan when you go home." The bell of the main game is approaching, and the two looked at each other through towels while weighing. Butler raised his chin first, and Bajinyang blinked, as if pressing the switch. Promoter Estyban sighed in the audience: "No matter who loses, I have to accompany another to have a midnight snack, but that meal will definitely be bitter." The boxing fans ignored it. They surrounded the second floor of the casino, some wore Butler's green and gold cloak, some held up the Armenian flag, and the drum beats mixed with French slogans, and the air was like boiling water.

No one dares to write a script. Can Bajinyang's ankle really be able to thrust in the twelfth round? Will Butler's heavy punch run out of gas in the sixth round? Only the rope knows the answer. The referee said the last sentence "Protect yourself", and after the words fell, the night in Montreal was cut open by a jab, and the sun on November 14th had to wait until the winner's name was shouted out before it could show its head. For Bajinyang, this is a restart; for Butler, this is a liquidation; for Tiger Eye Boxing Promotion Company, this is a bond that must be cut. Boxing is the cruelest and simplest - whoever can stand can take away the future.