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Meehan	Hasim
Mark Janssen	Ted Allen

New York City, NY Wednesday (EST) -

I broke bread with Team Meehan this morning. Kali Meehan polished off porridge, bowls of fruit, toast and orange juice. Mark Janssen and Ted Allen had avocado on toast, and pots of tea.

Australia's contender for the Heavyweight Championship of the World built up an appetite running four miles in Central Park before the winter sun rose.
We were breakfasting in the Niles Room under the Southgate Tower Hotel on Seventh Avenue at West 31st, just across the road from Madison Square Garden.

The Garden, mecca and jerusalem of boxing, bears a banner showing Kali Meehan's face seven times life-size and seven other rival faces in the Battle for Supremacy. Don King means to produce a universal Heavyweight Champion, though it takes a year to sift the alphabets.

Kali Meehan and Hasim Rahman also confront one another in the foyer, on an individual poster. The poster stands near a photo blow-up: Muhammad Ali hurls an overarm right at Joe Frazier on March 8, 1971, the greatest Heavyweight fight ever staged in the Garden.

Meehan was still musing on the nearness to greatness (add K to Ali) when the Aussie trio, strolling at evening up Seventh Avenue, came to a cluster of lit Christmas trees outside a department store. Macy's. The lamppost sign said West 34th Street. "Miracle on 34th Street."

They play it each Christmas on television, the movie that is set in Macy's .
Something about, "Yes, Virginia - there i s a Father Christmas."

Kali's Father Christmas is Don King. He pulled the Australasian heavyweight out of near-retirement to fight for the WBO championship in Las Vegas, and now take part in the Battle for Supremacy in New York. (Include in your movie script, Uncle Ted Allen who wrote and sent the Christmas wish to Santa; and Magic Mark Janssen who got Kali ready for the reindeers' arrival).

At breakfast, I said I was planning to go file this despatch at Kinko's and then on to appointments at the Kingsway gym at West 27th and Fifth Avenue, the Media showing by Golota, Byrd, Ruiz, Donald and Hasim Rahman; and thirdly to Barnes and Noble book store 21 blocks uptown, where Smokin' Joe was signing books. The team assigned me to spy on Rahman.

At mention of the night and day internet store, Kinko's on West 37th,
someone make a crack about kinky.
-What would you say if someone called you Meehy?
-I'd punch him in the moufy, quipped Kali.

So after my spell in Kinko's filing to Fighter-Online in Melbourne, I kept
the assignment on Rock Rahman. I learned from his second that the Islamic name came with his religion; the Afro-American converted like Cassius Clay and means to make a name like Muhammad Ali.

I can tell you his biceps look like a barbell worker's, but they came with
the genes. "My son is 'five - ten' (5 ft. 10 inches) at age 13," said the
agreeable Hasim.

I estimate from his shadow boxing, Hasim does not punch fast.

I then trudged the 21 blocks to Barnes and Noble. Would you believe,
fabulous "Fifth Avenue" is a one way street. Sydney might have 'em but
Melbourne knows better( Flinders Lane and Little Col and Little Bourke and Little Lon apart). My one way destination was the wrong way.

The queue of us, each holding our $40 books, "Garden of Dreams, History of Madison Square Garden" took half an hour and I was the last man in. The man behind me announced that Smokin' Joe once saved him from a bashing.

"At the Sports Illustrated annual dinner," said he, "this big guy stepped on my expensive shoes. He'd gone ten paces before I yelled, "Look at my shoe, m- f-----!"

"I saw him swell up but then he deflated.

"I learned that Joe Frazier raised a fist and told him: 'Don't say a word
back!'"

The raconnteur assured the queue that without a doubt Frazier would be delighted to see him again.

At this point a security guard said the Australian was the last in line who
would be admitted. Our raconnteur did some negotiating . . and went to the head of the line and in. He certainly had some jingle.

Now I want to tell you what Smokin'Joe Frazier remembered - when I reached the table last - about his fight at St Kilda Junction Oval in 1975, but I'll save that for the next instalment.

Twelve hours ago I wrote my first version - and lost the lot in cyberspace.

More from Manhattan tomorrow.