I ran upstairs because I’d heard the fight was already over. As part of my ongoing effort to get my friend James into sports I had jotted this down on a post-it before I hit the project-concrete stairs of our dorm room at Willoughby:
“Tyson knocked him out in 93 seconds! 93!”
OK it was really 91. But I’d been listening to WFAN and they were apparently pretty excited about it too. I made it the 6 floors up (not trusting the “hellavator”) and stuck the note to James’ door, under the 804 number. None of us had TVs except for Lewis Greene and Myra Rivera, and he only let us watch Redskins games (including the Super Bowl); and unfortunately this didn’t happen often because we all lived in Brooklyn.