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stork daddy
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when little mac first met doc, it was doing something doc would oversee many times after that moment, training like a champion, like the man who would beat mike tyson. not the mike tyson who took the easy way out by purposefully leaving the marquis of queensbury's rules and biting holyfield's ear or the old eccentric who took a paycheck by being put out like a dog against lennox lewis, but iron mike, the mike tyson who could knock out russia when it was the unstoppable soviet union, the mike tyson who made fans question everyone from marciano to ali. little mac was running up stairs as if heaven was slowly jogging away at the top of those stairs. little mac was chasing the horizon. doc was on a bikeride that afternoon. he was contemplating his wife's advice to leave boxing, because as much as he loved it, it often took too much from him, hurt his heart, as things that love you often will. but riding his bike, he saw something, he saw little mac, and saw a world changing hunger despite the frail frame that held it. little mac couldn't be more than a buck o three. barely enough to stand still during a strong breeze. little mac for his part, never knew why he ran so hard, stayed in such phenomenal shape. it wasn't really to any end, he just felt like he always needed to be ready for something. he always felt like there was some mission that would come to him. that mission was approaching him in the guise of a fat black man on a bike with a broad grin.
...to be continued....
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