It took this, the megafight of megafights, the one sure to shatter all sorts of financial records at the gate and on your pay-per-view screens, the supposed biggest night in the sport’s history, to confirm what we already knew: It’s not about the fans.
He still gets up at 5:30 a.m., only now there’s not much to do. It’ll probably take a couple more weeks to remove all the stuff from his office, because one accumulates a lot of office stuff over 35 years as coach.
Kensen Lee had drawn a tag for the last of three weeklong seasons to take place in the Moapa Valley area. While that was the place Lee was looking forward to hunting for a turkey, he was concerned that pressure associated with the first and second seasons could make his third-season experience less than he had hoped for.
Tony Sanchez delivers a lot of messages. He’s a courier with a whistle, a columnist’s dream for notebook material, a guy who talks about eating elephants one bite at a time and walking into an alley to rumble.
