The time was 3 o’clock in the morning. Maybe 4. The place was London. Robbie Sims and another sparring partner, I can’t remember his name, a white kid from Philadelphia, came through the door of a dining room at Bailey’s Hotel, a low-rent sort of place in Kensington. Robbie Sims was holding a full- sized American flag on a pole.
“It sounds corny,” Bob Arum, the fight promoter, said, “but let’s sing ‘God Bless America.’ “