After the $8,500 or so payday from the Tyson win, I felt re-energized, and made plans to fly out to Vegas on Friday night, September 1, 1995. After taking a cab to the Flamingo Hilton on the strip for a 2 am check-in, I got into bed and went to sleep. When I awoke on Saturday, September, I was full of confidence, and headed right to O’Shea’s to eat a delicious breakfast at Burger King.
O’Shea’s was a small casino with a food court directly across from Caesar’s Palace, that I really loved. After scraping together every dime I could, I headed right to the sportsbook to put $25,000 on Oliver McCall vs. Frank Bruno for a straight win. The odds were razor close, with McCall a 1 1/2 to 1 favorite. A winning ticket mean an over $16,500 payday, and would finance my plans to continue on my trek to dig out of debt.
I went back to the Flamingo, and then hit the gym at Bally’s to work off nervous tension. After wandering the casino floor for a bit, I headed back to my hotel room to watch TV. Dinner was at the Flamingo Hilton buffet again, but I knew fight time was approaching. Since the bout was from London, it meant an 8 hour difference in time, figuring the main event would end around 6 pm Vegas time.
After nervously playing a few slot machines, I vividly recalled one with a $900,000 jackpot, and I wished I could hit that, and forget betting on boxing for good. On the way back to my hotel room, a guy asked me “How are you doing?” I answered “I’ll let you know in about an hour!” With nerves now the size of a rattlesnake in my stomach, I turned on the TV to watch Sportscenter on ESPN to get the fight result. When I saw Frank Bruno’s face on the screen, I almost vomited on the bed, realizing my nightmare had come true. Bruno had won a close decision, and my plans were instantly shot to hell. I immediately called my brother, and he could sense the pain in my voice. The call was brief, and I sat in my room almost comatose with despair. The only thing remember doing was trying to go to sleep, hoping I would wake up and find everything had been a bad dream. Unfortunately, after napping for a few hours, I aimlessly wandered the strip, sick to my stomach.
The Eddie Hopson disaster in July was bad enough, but this was worse. My money was basically all gone, and I couldn’t find any good in the circumstances. I think I got something to eat at like 2 am somewhere, but it didn’t do any good. Vegas is the happiest place on the planet when you win, but absolutely the loneliest and most depressing place on earth to me, when you lose every dime you have.
I worked out at Bally’s on Sunday morning, but it didn’t help. Since my flight home wasn’t until Monday morning, I stayed in my hotel room and watched football all day. When I went to Caesars to buy a ticket to see Natalie Cole that night, there was a booth selling tickets to The Holyfield-Bowe fight on November 4. After just losing $25,000, I saw no good reason to not buy myself an $800 ringside ticket, which would give me something to look forward to. As far as at that moment, it didn’t help at all, since my plans from March were in the dumper. When I arrived home on Monday, the last thing I felt like doing was going back to work, after one of the most depressing weekends of my entire life.
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