My train of thought jumped its track, though, as the Albaneses made their entrance and Danny sauntered right for the ring, climbing in with his trademark counterfeit bravado. Right on his heels, the Duke got in and started instructing him like some psychotic Ernie Fossey. I realized that Benny’s eyes had been as subtly trained on Danny as had mine when his voice entered my ear quietly. “Listen, kid. You’re smart, so use your intelligence with this Guinea. His father was never a candidate for Mensa, so chances are that neither is Junior. So stay on your toes. Stick, move, work off the jab. Conserve your energy because these will be the longest three minutes of your life. Seamus is refereeing and he just told me it’s gonna be amateur style: three three-minute rounds.” To allay my fears, he added a fatherly pinch-caress of my cheek and the encouragement