I would be fighting tonight—for the f*****g mafia. What was I supposed to do? I could see no way around it, so I numbly followed the two men out of my house and into a waiting car. I should have known their kind of fights wouldn’t be legitimate. I knew jack s**t about boxing, but the crowded basement I was ushered into, full of men trading money and the acrid odor of stale beer and piss, was far from a sanctioned facility—even I knew that. My ears rang as I was pulled across the room to a far door. Between the cloud of smoke and low ceilings overhead, I felt like I was suffocating. Sal and two of his men led us back into a small room where a couple of fighters were getting ready. With a single flick of his wrist, the two men jumped to their feet and hurried from the room. “Here are some sh
