back_ist_

forms sets and instead conjured up the mental image of Sonny Walters, positioning him in the far corner of an imaginary boxing ring. It was time to replay that fight, see where it had gone wrong. Do it right this time.
Hands high, body in motion, Harris advanced on the Smile.
He still had to advance. Sonny had the reach on him; there was no other way to fight it. No mistake there.
In the real fight, after the first couple of rounds, Sonny had begun nailing him just as Harris moved in close enough to strike and just before Harris drew back out of Sonny’s range. Transitions, just as Zeb had said. But why not before—why not in the first two rounds?
Sonny must just have been studying Harris. Soaking up a little punishment while he catalogued Harris’ inven­tory of moves and approaches. Okay, then. Harris moved into range of the phantom Sonny’s attacks, and his sparring partner didn’t attack. A few inches closer, still bouncing and weaving, and Sonny was in range of Harris’ kicks, but still didn’t strike. That was the way Harris remembered it.
Harris moved into arm range and threw a left-hand feint. The phantom Sonny blocked, came back with a right hook. This time Harris knew not to try to stop it with his knifehand block; strong enough for most opponents, that move wasn’t strong enough for Sonny Walters. Instead, he threw a middle block, bringing his left forearm in on Sonny’s extended arm, battering it out of line.
A good pose from which to launch his spinning backfist. He started a clockwise spin but only turned a few degrees, then disengaged