My son’s got Mike Tyson on the burner tonight. He only knows the champ from training videos and highlight reels and wants to watch a few early fights to see where it started.
I signed up for karate classes because I figured a little ‘wax on, wax off’ would be good for me.
He looked like a big muscular cherub, curly blond hair and pale blue eyes, arms like ship-ropes. He had no malice in him, though— just violence.