Sport's greatest salesman shuffles between bifold doors and settles down for another pitch. Outside, snow piles high on poolside sun loungers; at this time of year, temperatures in Warren, , flirt close to -20ºC. Inside this room, though, where Don King is flanked by his grandson, confidants and those trusty companions — his flags — the heat is stifling.‘Ooh, boy!’ the promoter exhales. It has been a long day, one that began with a blizzard. And business remains unfinished. So King takes a swig of Diet Pepsi and swirls an ice cube around his mouth.He is 90, and the electricity which once shot through his hair has begun to frazzle. But the lips remain loose and the fire in that belly still burns.
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