"Down to the river, Coach. I'm meeting Jenny there."
Jenny Cooper was his latest girlfriend. She was a nice kid, except that she didn't care much for boxing. "I'm going that direction," I said. "Want a ride?"
"Sure, thanks."
He got in and we started up again. "What are you and Jenny going to do down there?" I asked him.
He smiled. "She says that an Indian summer day like today is too good to waste, so we're going to have a picnic supper under the cliff."
"Good idea," I agreed. "I wish I'd thought of that myself."
"I wanted to go to the Club this afternoon," he continued. "But I guess I can skip one workout without softening up too much."
I cleared my throat. "Actually, Ernie, I'd like to talk to you about that."
It took me most of the five-mile trip to explain the conflict between what Ernie wanted and what I felt was good for him. He waited in silence until I had finished.
"Are you telling me you won't help me train anymore, Coach Morrissey?" he asked.
"If you're really determined to be a pro boxer, my coaching isn't going to help or hinder you much," I said. "I'll give you as much help as I can, Ernie, because it wouldn't be fair to you to do anything else. But I had to tell you all this so you'll understand if I'm not as fired up as I was a couple of months ago. Also, I guess I wanted to try one last time to talk you out of going pro."
"Have you thought up anything else I can do with my 'porting?"
It really hurt to say it. "No."
"Then I got no choice. I'm going to be somebody, if it takes the rest of my life." He hesitated. "But if it's going to bother you that badly, I guess I could go on from here on my own. You've taught me a lot, Coach, and I won't forget it. Maybe I could work out by myself and spar with some of the guys at the Club or at school. No use giving you an ulcer over this."