The Boardroom
Complete silence from his inner circle for six weeks.
Apollo didn't want to talk, didn't want to listen-hell, tersely asked the wife to leave him alone as he brooded and recovered for six weeks. Tony had his instructions and like a good friend and mentor he spoke for Apollo as a go-between.
But now, it was business time.
His first meeting with the inner circle: the business manager, the agent, boxing promoter, Tony, and a few other yes-men.
All the external wounds had healed, but everything else inside wasn't 100%, but gods don't show pain.
After a few congratulatory and sympathetic greetings, Apollo got straight to business as he sat behind the big desk.
"All right, I've been silent. Needed some time to clear up my thoughts. I'm here now, so let's not waste another second, what's been happening?"
"Business or boxing?" the promoter said.
"Business," Apollo replied with emphasis.
"We broke records," the business manager said. "40 million pay-per-views. Millions in your purse. They're still replaying them in some countries."
"And endorsements? They renewed? What about the ones we were in discussions with?" Apollo said.
The business manager bit his bottom lip and shook his head.
"And why aren't they signing? Ain't I still champ?" Apollo spoke, voice bubbling with anger.
"They're-taking it year by year, Apollo."
"You mean, they don't think I'll be around much longer."
"No, no, no. They're just evaluating."
"You MEAN, they're just evaluating a champion that isn't Apollo Creed." Apollo's nostrils flared. "Look, you tell them Apollo Creed doesn't do yearly sponsorships, nothing less than three years. You either invest in Apollo Creed or Apollo Creed makes your competition the new king of the ring. Got it?"
The business manager nodded in agreement.
"You're going nowhere, Apollo. Greatest of all time, " Tony interjected as the others reverberated the praise to break the tension.
"Look, whatever opportunities are on the fence, you take it to their competitors and give them a few points off since Apollo Creed is feeling generous. If people are calling this the Fight of the Century, then Apollo Creed's businesses better be bank of the century."
They all nodded in agreement.
"I heard Balboa got a few endorsements," the promoter said, lighting up a cigar. "The retiring kind, too. Even Wheaties got him on a box."
"Wheaties?" Apollo said with venom in this throat. "How the hell Balboa got that? It's breakfast of champions, not breakfast of chumps. Hell, that meathead can't even spell 'wheat.'"
The inner circle murmured and mocked in unison.
"Cuz he's white," one said.
"15 minutes of fame," another retorted.
"He should be giving you half," the last chimed in.
"You," Apollo pointed to the business manager. "You tell Wheaties Apollo Creed better be on that box or I'll snap, crackle, and pop their bottom lines. Ok, next boxing."
"The federation is hoping for an event by winter, " the agent said. "However, recognizing all you've done for the sport, they're willing to delay until next spring."
"Who's on the list? Mac Green still want some?" Apollo said.
The agent frowned. "Everyone is on the list."
Apollo felt that dark cloud hanging above him again.
"Roman, Shaw, even Smith?"
The agent nodded his head slowly.
Apollo snorted in disbelief. A year ago, they all avoided him, ran from him. Wouldn't even get in the ring for six-figures. Now they all thought they were number one contenders.
"The hell is happening man," Apollo raised his arms in disbelief. "Don't they know I'm Apollo Creed? I'm telling you all this now, if I wasn't dangerous enough before, now…" Apollo gave that look to all of them.
"Apollo," the promoter interrupted, "Despite what you feel, this is good business for all."
"Good business for who? For all these chumps riding on a Rocky high to think they can challenge me? Beat me? For people thinking I carried that meathead for 2 fights? That doesn't sound like good business to Apollo Creed."
"No- that's great business," the promoter shot back. "For the first time in your career, they saw you bleed. They saw god in his humanly form. Now they're all waiting."
"Waiting for me to get beat? And how's that good for me?"
"Because they're talking about you, looking at you- you're on everyone's mind. They're thinking when will Apollo Creed, the greatest of all time, finally be a mere mortal."
"Ain't gonna happen," Apollo snorted.
"Exactly," the promoter agreed with a banker's smile. "And they're gonna buy tickets, lots of tickets, because they're betting against the house. And we know the house always wins. It's all a circus, Apollo. They'll be paying to see the juggler drop the ball, the trapeze artist fall, the lion bite off the trainer's head, but it won't happen, because you own the show. You are the show."
Apollo allowed the idea to grow in his head. The promoter was right. As a boxer, the idea of going the distance with Rocky was a disgrace. But as an entertainer, it was a masterpiece. Good news. Bad news. Six weeks later, it was still NEWS to people.
So Balboa got lucky and got some love, some money, and some recognition, because he was standing next to Apollo Creed. If Balboa was in another club fight, no one would know his name. Apollo Creed made Rocky Balboa. Apollo Creed gave Rocky Balboa a chance. You couldn't mention the Italian Stallion without mentioning the Master of Disaster.
Apollo nodded his head, the ideas growing again.
"Where's Balboa now?" Creed asked.
Duke looked up and alarmed. "Champ, don't tell me…"
"No, no, no... it's yesterday's news," Apollo grinned. "I got an idea. Look, my fans think I carried him. Boxers think I'm slipping. I want to sign Rocky Balboa."
Apollo loved the surprised looks on all their faces.
"Another match?" one asked.
"Why?" another quizzed.
"Now listen, " Apollo boomed, that look he always carried when it was time to get serious. "I don't want to fight Balboa… for now. What we CAN do and SHOULD do is get this man lined up again Green, Shaw, Roman-all the contenders.
I went 15 rounds with this man, twice. He's a chump, but a hard-headed chump. If the other guys think they can go toe-to-toe and not come out half a man against Balboa, they'll see what I saw then."
"You mean make Balboa a legitimate contender?" the agent said.
"He already is," Duke replied, surprising Apollo.
"Yeah, like Duke said, he's already a contender," Apollo continued with fire in his eyes. "But he's going to need a little nudge. He's what 30-31? He's got a little fat coming in his way, so he might think about retirement again.
No, we CANNOT let that happen. We sign this man. Give him top dollar. Train him. Prepare him. Let him clear the division. Make this man a contender. And when the time comes…"
"Creed vs Balboa 3," Tony muttered.
The agent, business partner, and promoter smiled. The hype, the money, the moment it would make for boxing history.
"Not to get ahead of ourselves, Apollo," the promoter asked. "What if he loses to any of them."
Apollo ruminated.
"Then it'll turn out that he's a fluke. He'll be a footnote. Flavor of the month. But if he wins, then my matches against him get rewritten. Not as David vs Goliath or some dark horse story, but a clash titans- the unstoppable Apollo Creed vs the immovable Rocky Balboa- gold vs silver, lion vs hyena… gods vs demons. Now that's a good story."
He smiled.
"Ok," the promoter continued. "Supposed everything goes to plan. Balboa clears out the division for the third bout. Apollo, you know I love you, but you'll be fighting a man who'll be even stronger and better than before, and a man who's hungry and not afraid to mix it up. Wouldn't you be worried?"
A sharp pain shot across Apollo's side. The thought of another 15 rounds with Balboa. Before Apollo could respond, Duke interjected.
"Balboa is the wrong man for Apollo. He's southpaw, he's gritty, and he can take a punch like no other. If we sign him and train him, he'll be better than before. He'll clear them all out. But he won't clear Apollo."
Apollo smiled, Tony was finally backing him up.
"But only if Apollo wants to get better, too." Tony turned and glared at Apollo. "Meaning you've got to want and learn how to dance with Balboa differently. Champ, I've been with you since the beginning. If you fight that same style against Balboa…won't be pretty. Won't be pretty at all. I promise you that. But if you fight smarter, fight like you're playing chess and him playing checkers, you'll wear that belt as long as you want. Question is, are you prepared to be better or do more of the same?"
Apollo fumed for a bit. Nobody told Apollo Creed to switch it up especially in front of his people.. But then again, Balboa had shown that he could take it. Time had caught up to Apollo Creed, so it was time to change the game.
"Duke, we've come this far together. And we're gonna go farther together. Yesterday got me here. But it won't get me there. Let's work for tomorrow together."
Apollo nodded to Tony and Tony smiled and nodded back.
"Now find Balboa and get him to my stable," Apollo said slapping the desk and standing up. "Do whatever to get him to sign. I'll personally deliver the contract myself. Let's go."
Next chapter: The Studio.
