Rain falls in thin, needling lines over Hell’s Kitchen as Devin Haney walks into the Victory Boxing Gym. Somewhere along Ninth Avenue an ambulance threads through the congestion, its siren drawn out into a long, mournful ribbon that slips past the gym’s walls. He nods to a few familiar faces, peels off a Supreme Vanson leather jacket and begins to unwrap himself from the city. His father, Bill, arrives a step behind him, not so much entering the room as taking possession of it.
“The youngest undisputed champion!” Bill cries out, half to the gym, half to himself. “He’s done it on three continents! Twenty-six years old and still writing history! Let the sparks fly!”
