Handing George Foreman an attache case containing $50,000 cash in an airport urinal, huge mobile television studios vanishing from the Caracas airport with the help of the Venezuelan tax authorities, negotiating a multi-million dollar promotional agreement from behind bars in a London jail, Don King arriving at the fight in Jamaica a part of the entourage of one fighter—the odds-on favorite—and leaving in the entourage of the other—the winner. Wounded knees and slices over the eye, German Shepherds and vodka-soaked Nazis, inadequate roofs and torrential monsoons, blue canvas and unstuck toupees, dancing with the Watusi and midnight duets with piano and sax. And finally, a cold-blooded murder. This is boxing at its absolute best, and the adventure behind these championships is a story every bit as good as what happens in the ring.
