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"Whoooooo there!" Jacobs cried. "Good move. Good move! Way to go, Sugar."
"Put a little more shoulder in it!" yelled Janks Morton, Ray's other trainer and closest adviser.
Facing Odell head-on, he drove a hook to his side and Odell froze. Out of that hook grew another, then a right and left-right-left-right, all body blows. Odell winced.
"All right! All right!" shouted Jacobs.
Ray was into it now. There seemed nothing he could not do. "It's like a record player," he says. "It's the rhythm—just steady goin', steady goin'. When I got into professional boxing, I began to realize that fighting was music. When I'm working right, it's keeping the same pace, same rhythm—pace, rhythm, pace, rhythm. The majority of guys can't keep up that tempo. It's a pleasure. It's a pleasure to know I'm doing something that another guy can't understand. I can look at a guy and tell if he's frustrated. When I see the signs, I know I'm in control."
Now he was in control. He threw hooks in multiples of three and four, fast and hard, and finally he drove a left uppercut into Odell's chin.
"Good shot!" Jacobs yelled. "That's it! Come on, keep working till we get it down right. That's right! Beautiful move, beautiful shot!"
"I never heard of him!" Janks Morton said.