Dana White, King of MMA

When we lived on Tileston Street, I would get up in the morning to go to work to
find the crust of two loaves of bread and all the crumbs on the kitchen counter —
every morning. The loaves were broken in half and all hollowed out in the center.
When Dana worked at the Black Rose, he did not get home until around three or four
in the morning. His path home always took him down Salem Street to Tileston Street.
Bova’s Bakery is on the corner of Salem and Prince Streets; open seven days a week,
three hundred sixty-five days a year. All you can smell at that hour is the aroma of
fresh bread and pastries baking especially in the winter when it is freezing out. When
it is cold, it seems like the smell of the bread baking lingers in the air and the warmth
of the glow of lights from inside calls out to you to come inside. Dana could never
pass by without going in and buying a couple loaves of fresh bread right out of the
oven. He didn’t like the crust, so he would break it open and dig out all the warm,
soft bread inside. The remnants were what were on the kitchen counter every
morning.
Dana worked nights and Brenda worked days, and so they did not get to see much
of each other. One afternoon, Dana decided to meet Brenda on her lunch break and
have lunch with her. Brenda was running late, and Dana was standing out in front of
Woolworths on Washington Street at downtown crossing waiting for her. It was a
winter day and bitterly cold out. As Dana leaned up against the building, watching
people as they walked by, a businessman in his early thirties was walking down the
street with his hands in the pockets of his overcoat. Three black men who were
standing near Dana ran up behind the businessman and hit him in the back of the head
so forcefully that it sent him flying down onto the sidewalk. The man they attacked
didn’t even have time to pull his hands out of his pockets to break his fall; he never
knew what hit him.
As the man lay face down on the ground unconscious, his attackers began to rifle
through his pockets, robbing him. Other people on the street continued to walk by,
ignoring the whole scene as if nothing was going on. Dana ran over and confronted the
men who were robbing the unconscious man, the three of them turned on Dana and
started calling him white pudding and telling him he better back off before he got the
same thing. Dana had just begun to fight with the three of them when police sirens