It was, all together, quite a selection; a verifiable smorgasbord of greats, as well as people deemed relevant by either association or family name. It was hard, too, not to focus on this array of characters as the fight between Stevenson and Lopez unfolded. That’s not to say the fight was dull. Far from it. But such was the extent of Stevenson’s dominance, and indeed his brilliance, you had time to allow yourself to become distracted and could be sure that nothing would have changed by the time you returned to the action. In certain rounds, the eye would naturally wander towards Benn, with his peroxide blonde hair making him a sight hard to miss in Row B. He seemed captivated and engaged by it all, although his wife, Victoria, appeared somewhat less enamoured with what was taking place in the ring. At times, her eyes seemed to be closed, or were on the verge of closing, and one couldn’t help but wonder if the Benns’ brief time in New York would have been better spent doing something else. Maybe they could have taken in a Broadway show that Saturday night, for example. Or maybe they could have biked around Central Park, or seen “The Persistence of Memory” (Salvador Dali, 1931) at the Museum of Modern Art.
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