Daniel and I were talking about boxing today and we both agreed that Mike Tyson is going to kick that punk kid's ass.

I'm a Tyson fan, and a Muhammad Ali fan. What an epic fight that would have been. I've met Ali in person, talked to him, touched him, but not Mike. That would be a tough one to call.

I remember a Summer that changed my life. I was a teenaged pimply faced kid, growing up in Paradise, CA.

My grandfather, Jack King, was my mentor. He loved me and took me with him whenever he could. An amazing man, gold miner, entrepreneur, gambler and a sign painter.

We were somewhere in Central Northern California, checked into a motel for a week while he painted a sign locally. There was a pool, it was Summer, and I lived there with my feet in the water.

One night we watched a boxing match on the little motel TV. It was Ali and somebody, he floated like a butterfly, stung like a bee, and won.

So did I, the Sun and the chlorine cleared my face up, I had a strong male figure in my life that loved me, and all I can say now is thank you grandpa!