Almighty Coach

You can see some scattered garbage beside the potholed road, among the grass that has not been trimmed for a long time, listening to a car, the wheels have been stolen, the front windshield has been smashed, and the seats are messy The dried blood can be vaguely seen.

There are several dilapidated apartment buildings on both sides. The walls of the higher places have peeled off, while the lower walls are covered with various graffiti. People who don't know think these graffiti are works of art, but those who know the inside know that there are signs of gang members in these graffiti, which are used to tell outsiders that this is their territory, and at the same time warn members of other gangs not to cross the line.

This is a poor neighborhood. Like other poor neighborhoods in the United States, it is chaotic, dilapidated, full of violence and crime all the time. If it is at night, even the police in Los Angeles are reluctant to come here, and those so-called cultural facilities will stay away from such places.

A black teenager was lying in a corner, curled up, covering his head with his hands, and around him, three or five young people were punching and kicking him.

On the hood of the old car next to him, a yellow-haired young man with a shaved head, wearing a vest, tattoos, and half a cigarette in his mouth stared at the black boy condescendingly, and said viciously, "Tim, are you here?" You've been in the juvenile prison for too long, and your brain has been disciplined so badly? I'll give you a chance now, and say it again. "

"No, I won't help you deliver 'goods' anymore!" The black young man continued to curl up, roaring in a trembling voice.

"It seems that there is a meal, and your brain is not sober." Huang Fa Youth played the ash, looking at the black boy with a contempt, waved his fingers, and the person next to him fought again and kicked. .

"Tim, do you understand what you should do now?" the yellow-haired youth continued to ask.

"If I continue to help you deliver goods like before, once I am caught by the police, I will be sent to the juvenile detention center again, and I will not be able to continue practicing boxing." The black boy gasped hard while speaking. with.

"So what? It's not the first time you've been in a juvenile prison. None of us have ever been in that damned place!" The young man with yellow hair snorted coldly.

"I promised Kevin Taylor that I will practice boxing seriously, and I will not do anything related to crime. I will become a boxer." The black teenager said.

"Boxer? Hehehe, put away your real dreams!" The yellow-haired youth jumped off the hood, bowed himself, grabbed the black teenager's head, and said, "Tim, you should understand, You live here, and you are a poor person. In this neighborhood, the rules of survival for the poor are either cheating or cheating, or messing with me! There is no third way. This is your destiny and cannot be changed... So, you You must bring the goods for me, other than that, there is no other choice."

As the yellow-haired youth spoke, he kicked the black youth again, then waved his hand, turned around and left with his men.

Ten minutes later, the black boy got up with difficulty and limped towards another direction...

...

Kevin Taylor Boxing Gym.

Taylor wandered back and forth in the boxing gym leisurely, and finally came to Chris Payton.

"These little guys didn't cause you any trouble, did they?" Taylor asked.

"No." Peyton shook his head, and continued: "Their performance is much better than I imagined. In my impression, those who appear in the juvenile prison should be some dangerous elements, each of them is like a powder keg. Ignite it with fire and it will explode."

"In fact, they just pretend to be stronger so that they can survive, but in fact, they all long for a stable life. It was the same when I was young. I fought everywhere and used violence to solve everything. The purpose was just to let Other peers don't bully me." Taylor sighed.

Peyton pointed to a black teenager who was training: "There is one thing, that Tim, he was injured when he came today. This is not from boxing practice. He should have fought with someone else."

Taylor looked at the black boy, thought for a few seconds, and said, "The information shows that he has been in the juvenile detention center twice before, the first time was because of stealing things, and the second time was because he was found on him. A small amount of drugs."

"Did he touch that thing himself?" Peyton asked immediately.

"Of course he didn't touch that thing, otherwise he should be in a drug rehab center, not here." Taylor lowered his voice and continued: "It says in the information that this kid lives in the South District, where the security It’s not that bad, there are still a lot of Mexicans smuggled in, and fighting and fighting should be commonplace!”

...

"Coach, I didn't fight with others, please don't drive me away!" Tim, a black teenager, looked nervous.

"Then what happened to your injury? Don't tell me it was caused by boxing training. My training can't cause such an injury." Peyton asked.

Tim lowered his head and was silent for a long time before he said: "The gangsters near my house asked me to help them deliver the goods. I didn't agree to them, so they beat me up. But I didn't fight back, I didn't fight."

"Delivery? Is it drugs?" Peyton said. He suddenly had a feeling of deja vu, as if he saw a small drug house demolition, using minors to send drugs to those small buyers.

"I will never deliver for them again." Tim continued with firm will: "Even if they beat me again, I won't, I want to be a professional boxer, just like Kevin Taylor That way, get the title of boxing champion. I know he came out of juvenile prison just like me, so I believe I can do it too."

"The power of role models is so powerful!" Peyton sighed lightly, and then asked: "You rejected those bastards, shouldn't they just let you go?"

Tim didn't answer, but the panic in his eyes said it all.

"Where does your family live?" Peyton asked.

"South..." Tim said a block away.

"Hehe, no wonder I have a feeling of déjà vu." Payton suddenly laughed, and then continued: "Tim, this afternoon, after training, I will take you home! Coincidentally, I also live in It’s been a long time since I went home to look around there.”

...

An older Chevrolet Lmpala entered the run-down looking neighborhood.

This car is very popular in the United States. It is a typical American economical car. The size of the car is large enough, the interior space is large enough, and the trunk is also large enough. The whole car does not have high technical content, but it is strong enough. The engine technology is also mature enough, and the price is cheap to carry the toss. It is definitely a very cost-effective choice for Americans who prioritize pragmatism.

Beside the street, a short tattooed man had noticed the car a long time ago. This tattooed man was obviously a gang member. At this time, he subconsciously touched the pistol on his waist.

This Chevrolet lmpala is so common in the United States that many people who engage in illegal transactions will also choose to steal a common car to avoid police tracking. So the tattooed man was very worried that the people sitting in this car were not good people, maybe a person with a submachine gun would come down in the next second and shoot at everyone.

"Don't be nervous, it's my own, that's Chris's car." A black bald man wearing sunglasses and a big gold chain patted the short man's shoulder, and said, "Although Chris doesn't come back a few times a year, , but I still know his license plate number."

"Chris? Which Chris?" The short man didn't react for a while.

"Chris Payton! The third child of the Payton family. The surrounding blocks are all their territory, but I heard that Chris Payton didn't mix the voice of the family, but did it outside. I hired a sports coach. I seldom come back." Said the bald man with sunglasses.

"Sports coach? The Peyton family will go to work in a safe and secure job, hehehe, the devil would believe it!" The short man smiled, looked at the direction where the Chevrolet was leaving, and then said: "The direction he drove, It seems to be the site of 'Yellow Jack', shouldn't the Peyton's house turn left?"

"Maybe it's something else." The bald man in the sunglasses lit the cigarette in his hand, took a deep breath, and exhaled a smoke ring, and then said: "Jack only started managing that street last year. I don't know if he recognizes it." Chris Payton."

...

In the car, Tim looked around nervously.

"Coach, you don't need to send it off, just stop here, and I can walk back by myself." Tim said.

"It's okay, I've been here before, and I know the way without navigation." Peyton said indifferently.

"Coach, I mean it's been quite chaotic here recently. There are a lot of gangsters, and there are also illegal immigrants from Mexico. If strangers stay here for a long time, it will be more dangerous. If you encounter trouble, you can call the police. The police It won't be long, either," Tim said in a worried tone.

"I said, it's okay, you don't have to worry about me, oh, turn right ahead?" Peyton pointed to the fork ahead.

"Yes, turn right, turn left again, and you will arrive at my house." While talking, Tim prayed in his heart not to be encountered by the yellow-haired young man, or he would definitely implicate Peyton.

...

"Boss, Tim lives over there. He should have gone home by this time." The gangster pointed to a dilapidated apartment building in the distance.

"Go, go find him, I'm delivering the goods by hand now." The young man with yellow hair waved his hand and walked over with a few of his men.

An old Chevrolet Lmpala came from a distance and stopped at the door of the apartment.

Tim got out of the car, turned his head and saw the yellow-haired young man walking in the distance.

"Coach, go!" Tim yelled suddenly.

Payton didn't listen to Tim, but opened the car door, got out of the car, and turned to look at the yellow-haired young man not far away.

...

"Boss, it's Tim! He seems to have brought a helper."

"So what if I have a helper? This street is my territory, and I have the final say here." The young man with yellow hair snorted coldly and led the people up.

...

"Boy, don't meddle in other people's business, if you are sensible, get out!" The tone of the young man with yellow hair was extremely arrogant.

"Who are you?" Peyton looked at the young man with yellow hair coldly.

"This whole street is covered by me. Even if I kill you now, the police will have nothing to do. It's just adding one to the number of missing persons. So while I'm in a good mood, disappear from my sight immediately. !" The yellow-haired youth's attitude became more and more arrogant.

Payton smiled disdainfully, and said, "As far as I know, the surrounding blocks are all the territory of the Payton family."

"You actually know the Payton family." The yellow-haired young man's aura suddenly weakened a bit. He looked up and down Payton, wanting to know if Payton was a member of a gangster. However, from the outside, Payton can't see anything except a little strong.

"Who are you?" The yellow-haired youth couldn't help asking.

"I'm a coach, Tim's coach." Peyton pointed to the black teenager Tim next to him.

"Just a coach? Hahaha... I thought you were Batman or Captain America when you are so strong!" The yellow-haired youth couldn't help laughing wildly, and the gangsters beside him also laughed.

However, Payton ignored the ridicule of the gangsters, and he continued: "My name is Chris Payton."

"What do I call you... Wait, Peyton? Did he just say Peyton?" The yellow-haired young man's laughter stopped abruptly, and his expression froze.

The next second, the young man with yellow hair suddenly asked his subordinate: "What did he say his name was?"

"Boss, he said his name is Chris Payton." The gangster next to him said immediately.

"Chris Payton, a very familiar name. His name is Payton. He is also a coach, and he still looks so confident when he gets here..." The young man with yellow hair finally remembered the third son of the legendary Payton family.

Although this Chris Payton has never been involved in the business of the Payton family, gang members in the neighborhood know of his existence. A person who grew up in a gangster family did not join the gangsters, but chose a job of his own. Chris Payton is definitely an alternative among the gangsters. This alternative existence is easy to be remembered by people.

"You are Chris!" The yellow-haired youth finally realized that he had kicked an iron board. He is just a gangster on this street, at most he can be regarded as a peripheral member of the Peyton family gang, and the nearby blocks are all within the sphere of influence of the Peyton family. If he dares to be unfavorable to Chris Peyton, there are probably people Take his head to Payton's house to claim credit. Therefore, the young man with yellow hair cannot afford to offend Chris Payton.

"I prefer to be called Coach Payton. I don't want people to harass my students." Payton's expression has turned cold.

"I see, Coach Payton, I promise I won't harass Tim again!" The young man with yellow hair who can dominate a street is naturally not the kind of brainless person.

...

"Okay, you don't have to worry about them making trouble for you anymore. If they still come to harass you, just tell me, at least in these few blocks, my words are still useful." Peyton patted the pedicle Tom's shoulder.

"Coach Payton, thank you!" Tim's eyes full of admiration even made Payton a little uncomfortable.

"It seems that athletes often look at Coach Li with this kind of eyes! It feels really good." Payton smiled and returned to his Chevrolet.

Peyton started the car, put it in gear, and looked ahead.

In the distance, the yellow-haired young man and his gangsters had gone far away, but their backs could still be vaguely seen.

"Even if they don't look for Tim, they will look for other teenagers to 'delivery' them..." Peyton felt an inexplicable melancholy in his heart.

He can help one Tim, or a second Tim, a third Tim, but he can't help everyone. The yellow-haired youth can always find other children, either intimidating or luring them, and let them become "cargo" tools.

There are too many poor people in the nearby blocks. As the yellow-haired young man said, if the poor want to survive, they can only follow the rules of the poor.

"The cruel reality, helplessness and despair! But I am not the one who has the ability to change..." Chris Payton turned his head and looked into the distance. On the tall billboard, the huge publicity of the presidential candidates The photo was smiling at him.

Chris Payton had a mocking smile on his face. He suddenly didn't want to go home. He stepped on the gas pedal and drove in another direction.