In his prime, Harold was known far and wide as a champion. He wasn’t ever overwhelmingly strong or fast, but his unique build and smarts made him a fighter with great reach and enough wit to know how to press that advantage. Now well past his prime his name still persists on the lips of all the fans of the noble art of pugilism, for he is the most coveted coach, trainer of champs. Some say even the titanic Hugh Mungus - mayor very own loyal bodyguard - trained under Harold tutelage in the ways of transforming anyones face into crème brûlée, served cold. He might be now a catankerous old farts, trailing his oily hat and choking, acrid smoke from his toxic cigars anywhere with him, but the is nonetheless an important figure in the community - he knows who is who, he knows what’s what and most importantly, he pretty nearly governs the most popular sport in the city. And that pleases the Mayor, who knows well enough, that the good folks of his great dreamy metropolis are just one meal away and one thrill removed from cheerful rioting...