After the refreshing weekend in Vegas with my mom in mid-September, I came home with my four grand, and tried to concentrate on my lawn service as best as I could. It wasn’t easy, but I tried to find a fight to look forward to, in order to keep myself from going nuts.
Roy Jones easily took care of a local south Jersey boxer Tony Thornton on September 30, and the following Saturday night Lennox Lewis fought Tommy Morrison in Atlantic City. My brother came over to watch the Lewis fight, and it had me imagining the easy money I could have made on this one, had things not gone in the dumper. Lennox clobbered Morrison, and stopped him six rounds, which ended any hopes of Tommy being a top-notched fighter.
I was so glad to see the lawn season near an end in November, as I made my way back to Vegas for Holyfield-Bowe 3 at Caesar’s Palace. After checking into the Flamingo Hilton, I crossed the street on Saturday afternoon to take what money I had left to my name, and try to put together some kind of a miracle. I was in desperation mode when I arrived, and if I can remember, bet on 3 different props, all on Evander. I put money on a straight Holyfield win, the over-under at 8 rounds, and long-shot money on an Evander sixth round knockout. I don’t remember what the take home would be if I hit the two bets other than the long-shot 6th round KO, but it was in the neighborhood of twelve grand.
When I arrived at my ‘ringside’ seat just before the main event, I realized how crappy the seats were. The chairs were tightly banded together, and I felt like a sardine in a can next to the other fans. Press row was in front of my seat, but I dealt with it as round one began. My hopes were high that Evander could pull of a miracle for me, simply because it was my last chance.
Those hopes were quickly dashed because after just two rounds, Holyfield appeared shot. I couldn’t believe my eyes, that he was done after just one round. My stomach quickly tightened, and I literally felt like throwing up. Evander was lifeless, landing an occasional punch, then retreating and doing nothing again. Bowe wasn’t exactly wasn’t that active himself, but as the fifth round ended, and the sixth began, I had little hope left.
Suddenly, out of nowhere a crisp left hook dropped Bowe on the seat of his pants. I leapt from my seat with excitement, because Bowe got up and retreated to the ropes like he was in trouble, Unfortunately Holyfield just stood there, threw no punches, and let Riddick off the hook. I sat down, knowing the inevitable was near, and two rounds later, it came. Riddick knocked Evander down and out, and I left the arena knowing my last efforts had failed miserably. I lost all three of the bets, and went back into the casino numb with disappointment.
The long plane ride home was depressing, and left me wishing I could turn the clocks back and start 1995 all over again.
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