By the middle of Round 2 Powerfist Roland had already knocked me down three times. My face was a raw-meat mask. The fourth time I went down, my manager tried to throw in the towel. “Morris, you’ve had enough. It’s quits, you hear? Next time the bastard’s gonna disconnect your head from your shoulders!”
“I’m not quitting!” I said, spitting in the bucket. The bell rang and I pulled myself to my feet to fight again. Two minutes later Powerfist Roland knocked me out. He beat me, but he didn’t defeat me. I knew then that no one ever would.