When Floyd was in training for the 1957 fight with cousin Pete, I used to go out to his training camp in Issaquah, Washington. I'd already met Floyd socially, so he made my Father and I welcome into his "compound." To this day, I've NEVER seen hands faster than Floyd Patterson's. Just about the time that I'd see a left hook comming, he'd already pounded three rights into his sparring partner. This man was greased lightening. Bob