"Well, boy, this one means a lot to both of us," Milt said.
"Sure," was all Frankie could answer.
"For you, the first Ten-Time Defender the heavyweight division has ever produced. For me, The Hall of Boxing Fame."
"You want that pretty bad, don't you, Milt?"
"Yeah, I guess I do, Frankie, but not bad enough to win it the wrong way."
Frankie's head jerked up. "What do you mean, the wrong way?"
Milt scowled and looked as though he wished he hadn't said that. He turned his head and stared hard at his fighter. "There's something we maybe ought to have talked about, Frankie."
"What's that?"
Milt struggled for words. "It's just—oh, hell! Forget it. Just forget I said anything."
"You figure we win tonight?"