The bright afternoon sun streams through a wall of windows, baking the old, un-air-conditioned gym until the smell of fresh sweat mingles with the linger-I ing scents of cigars and Xtra Pine. The South Shore Boxing Club, some 20 miles south of Boston, was once a Civil War nail factory, and it is tiny. It barely contains the two rings, nine punching bags and the 6-foot-2, 229-pound hulk who is frantically beating up his shadow. His name is Peter McNeeley and next week in Las Vegas, if all goes according to plan, he will become a footnote in boxing history. It is over his prostrate body that former heavyweight champion Mike Tyson i will begin his comeback campaign. McNeeley, 26, is perfectly cast to pose as a contender. He has the pedigree: his grand-father was an Olympic boxer; his father, Tom, fought Floyd Patterson—and took a savage beating—for the heavyweight title. He has the punch, with 30 KOs along the way to a 36-1 record. And like every other aspiring heavyweight since Muhammad Ali, he has the patter. At an appearance in Harlem, he stared at Tyson and declared, "I will knock him out in three rounds." But most experts view him as a classic patsy, which accounts for Vegas oddsmakers favoring Tyson by as much as 25-1. "You don't have to fix fights anymore," says boxing writer Bert Sugar. "You fix opponents."
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