BREAKFAST OF CHAMPIONS

When the hotel room door opened, a fiqure towered overhead. It was, perhaps, the center for the New Vork Knicks greeting us, or better still, a huge, tawny cat who'd just been awakened from a long hibernation. The king of the jungle yawned, blinked his sleepy eyes and scanned the little bodies before him.

“Yeah, hi,” it grunted.

A few minutes of shyness prevailed. The

man so many (men) describe as “ugly” we

found a squeaky-clean, pink-cheeked,

pouty-mouthed kid in a jumbo frame.

The hotel room was not Detroit’s finest.

“It has a bed,” Joe remarked when we

apologized for his surroundings. “That’s what s important.” And despite our long cross-town freeway jaunt to this run-down

Quality Inn, we were finally face to face

™an whose music, lyrics and

mite* rLV°iU "2 \ drew us somc 300