The problem was that Andy loved the sensationalism. It made the fight a bigger draw for advertisers wanting to sponsor the fight. The bigger the draw, the bigger the sponsors that would come calling for Abel to represent their products. So Andy said no publicity was bad publicity, except for when they crossed the line and could possibly tarnish his image; then sponsors might drop him.
“The media does it for obvious reasons—ratings,” Andy explained. “The juicier the story, the more viewers, listeners, and traffic they get to their shows, magazines, and websites. It’s all good. Let them make up as much harmless crap as they want, and you neither confirm nor deny that any of it is true, so you don’t kill the momentum. But you also have to be mindful of one thing: the other side is watching, listening, and taking notes too. They wanna see what gets to you, and the moment they do, they’ll run with it, telling their side of the story, truth or not. They’re doing it for other reasons: to get in your head and anything to throw you off your game. So whatever you do, don’t give them anything to feed on. If you’re cornered into making a statement, keep it vague. This close to the big day, the media starts grasping for anything. They know everyone’s watching, and their story has to be better and juicier than their competition’s.”
“All right, I got it,” Abel said as he drove into the gym’s driveway.
They’d been through this before. Abel hardly even watched TV, nor did he ever get caught up in the tabloids. Felix had been the first to tell him that it was better if he just didn’t read them, especially when he was in training. This, by far, was the biggest fight Abel had ever trained for.
“I’m very serious about this, Ayala. Prepare yourself for not only the media to stop at nothing as the big day approaches but McKinley’s camp to pull some kind of stunt just to rattle you. They’re getting nervous, and they know this is all new to you. McKinley’s been through the whole thing with his alcoholic dad and his younger brother’s domestic abuse allegations, but you . . . You haven’t had to deal with any of that, and even though you may think it’s no big deal now, it is once you start hearing the bullshit over and over. Let me tell you this is why I was calling. It’s already starting.”
Abel turned off his car but didn’t get out. Suddenly Andy had his undivided attention. “What do you mean? What’s starting?”
Andy sighed heavily. “I got the call this morning. It could go nowhere, but apparently some bloggers based in Mexico have started some noise about your dad’s connection to the Mexican mafia.”
“What!” Abel gripped the phone, feeling the very anger Andy had tried to warn him about. “He had no connection to the mafia, and my dad’s been dead for over ten years. Who the f**k is digging that far back?”
“It’s all bullshit.” Andy reminded him urgently. “This is what I’ve been trying to warn you about. It’s all for ratings—viewers—in this case, traffic to their blog. Apparently these bloggers are trying to start something, and if it takes off, it’ll be all over, true or not. But you cannot react to any of it and give McKinley’s camp something to try and bait you with and trip you up. I’m telling you they’d love nothing more than to get into that head of yours. You already have the media dubbing you Aweless Ayala for your indifference to all the hype and your continued ability to stay out of the limelight. Most newcomers eat up the attention. This, I’m sure, is making them nervous. They’re wondering why you’re so sure of yourself and maybe even wondering if you’re hiding something—a secret weapon perhaps. At this stage of the game, paranoia is rampant. So I can guarantee you they’re trying figure out just how to get to you and push your buttons.”
Abel took a deep breath. Fucking sensationalism. He’d always known, even way before he thought he’d have a chance at the title, that he’d hate this part of the process. He’d seen it play out firsthand with his friends, Felix and Gio. “No one’s getting in my head,” he said with conviction and he meant it.
“Atta boy,” Andy said the relief coming through loud and clear. “I’ll keep you updated on what you need to know, but in the meantime, you concentrate on training and f**k all this other shit. Avoid making any statements or answering any questions without checking with me first.”
“You got it.”
Still wearing his earpiece, Abel got out of the car. He had no intention whatsoever of following up on this bullshit story. His conversation with Andy though frustrating had served at least one purpose. It had gotten his mind off his thoughts of Nellie and her breakfast date. That is until Andy mentioned one more thing.
“Listen, I’m not gonna make that 5k run you’re doing in San Francisco this week after all. The folks over at the Today Show found out I’ll be in New York on Monday and wanted to set up something while I’m out there to see about getting you and Felix on the show together.” Abel could already hear the excitement in Andy’s voice. He lived for this shit. “I almost said no, but then I got a call from the Letterman show too. I can kill two birds with one stone, and this is huge compared to the run in Frisco. So I’ll have to stay in New York a few days longer than I planned. You should be okay. Still, I don’t want you out there alone. You’ll have security, of course, but I’ve got some calls out to a few people who might be able to meet you out there. This way you don’t have to worry about coordinating any of the last-minute requests for interviews or signings.”