What can YOU say in six sentences?
Roy Jones, Jr., a man that God would have ducked in the '90s.
A left that would send you to hell, and a right that would put you the second tier under.
And speed--how'd you like to get hit, say, this Wednesday and wake up the week before last?
He now gets kayoed by guys who couldn't have carried his jock strap back when.
Ali, Evander, the great Sugar Ray--that's Robinson, son--they hung on too long and died by the inch from the poundings they took, and now Roy.
And what's left are the roaring crowds' echoes from times when dreams claimed all flesh, a flesh that sleeps now as the bell tolls out ten.