Can a Kimbo Slice Protégé Become a Ghetto Superstar?

Whatever the outcome, Dhafir Harris does it with no fear.

The riot is over as quickly as it started. Only a few chairs were knocked over and no one in the crowd was hurt. Harris's security detail, consisting of two hired guards and his friend Leonard Little, push Big D's posse out of the ring. Big D, however, is still in the center square, dancing and thrusting his pelvis as if he was having unbridled sex, perhaps relieved that he now has another claim to fame besides being the first man Kimbo Slice beat up on the Internet. He sticks his tongue out at the photographer snapping pictures. "Aaaaah!" he yells. "Perrine stand the fuck up!"

Meanwhile, a stone-faced Harris stomps over to the DJ booth and grabs the microphone. "Everyone get out of the yard!" he orders. Everyone files out except Big D, who repeatedly slaps his head. "Aaaaah!" he screams, pointing at his injured left eye. "Aaaaaah! That nigga hits like a bitch! For all my haters, I love y'all!"

About 30 minutes later, six uniformed Miami-Dade Police officers clear the street and the sidewalk in front of Harris's house. The back-yard brawl is over. Sitting in his living room, Harris announces that he is no longer going to pursue his plans to create a league of back-yard brawlers. Maybe the doubters were right. No one would ever sanction something like this.

Kimbo Slice, center, made Dhafir Harris, right, part of his entourage.
Courtesy of Dhafir Harris
Kimbo Slice, center, made Dhafir Harris, right, part of his entourage.
Big D lets everyone know he can take a hard punch to the eye.
C. Stiles
Big D lets everyone know he can take a hard punch to the eye.


Click on the photo above to view photo outtakes from this article.

Harris sits back, dejected by the way his event ended. His dreams of stardom have gone up in smoke. "I tried giving people an outlet but it is not going to work out," Harris sighs. "My resumé is complete. I don't need to do another big event."

But it won't be the last of Dada 5000, Harris vows. Maybe he can't be a fight promoter, but he can always fight. His place is in the ring, not outside it. "I already have footage I can put on the Internet, but I need something bloody on YouTube to get the people excited. That's what I'm gonna do."

Harris gets up from the sofa and walks into his bedroom. He shuts the door and doesn't come out.

In the back yard, one fighter remains. His name is Bernard Williamson, a former Killian football star who was next up on the fight card. Thanks to the melee, his fight was scrapped. He stares quietly at the empty ring. His moment will have to wait.

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