Drew Bundini Brown

out.

That Bundini gift might be forgotten.

He ain't never dying.

Let me

That's what it said.

That was by Bundini Brown.

Okay.

Yeah.

Even at three fifty AM, the heat and humidity of Kinshasa sits weightier than the heavyweight belt.

In the mirror of a dressing room in the city's newly extended football stadium, Bundini Brown straightens his bow tie and fastens up his white satin jacket.

Even from here, the noise of the waiting crowd is shaking the floor.

The trainer checks his pocket for his scissors, gauze, smelling salts.