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Until one of them jabbed a broken bottle into Chandler's back. "I could feel the warm, thick blood coming down," he says. "It's too bad. By the time that guy stabbed me, I'd already got the others off me. Respect was sinking in.
"Then one of them yelled, 'Yo, man, that's the champ! Let him go.' But we'd already been through 20 minutes of warfare." So Chandler called, "Time-out!" and somebody drove him to the hospital.
"You'll never hear me brag about it, never," says Chandler, "but I was dropping some pretty big guys. I mean, some of them must have been 150 pounds."
On a recent Sunday in the kitchen of the O'Neills' South Philadelphia row house, K.O. scrutinized a letter from an old friend, Ed McMahon. Stuffed in the envelope with a sheet of stickers for cheap magazine subscriptions was a note that began: K.O. BECKY O'NEILL MAY HAVE JUST WON ONE MILLION DOLLARS! IMAGINE ONE MILLION DOLLARS IN THE O'NEILL BANK ACCOUNT!
"Guess what, Willie," said K.O., rather matter-of-factly. "We just won a million bucks." Willie was sprawled on a couch in the living room, reading Hägar the Horrible. "Get outta here," he said without looking up from the funnies.
Chandler sat with K.O., eating a sandwich and lamenting the fact that he'd never get to fight Larry Holmes and be the champ of all the world. "I could beat Marvin Hagler," he said flatly. "Of course, he'd have to come down to my weight."
"You hear that, Willie?" said K.O. "Jeff says he could beat Hagler."
Willie didn't take his eyes off the paper. "Not by sticking his tongue out," he said.