FORT LAUDERDALE, FLORIDA: Where people go to retire, sportfish for marlin, buy beachfront property, trek the Everglades, knock back pina coladas as they play round after round of canasta until sundown. And if, after a while, the whole scene becomes a bit staid, there is always South Beach, and its glut of limitless nightlife possibilities, just under an hour away.
But to go there to train for a shot at the heavyweight championship of the world? Suffice it to say that trainer Harry Keitt had other places in mind for Jarrell Miller, the burly heavyweight protegé whom he had reared ever since Miller walked into Gleason’s Gym in Brooklyn as an unfocused 15-year-old teenager.
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