Jake LaMotta was standing in his kitchen on the East Side of Manhattan the other day, wedged in front of his refrigerator, puffing on a Marlboro in the dark. He was blowing smoke out the window and tapping ash into a small bowl of water. LaMotta, 90, is the onetime middleweight champion of the world, a boxing Hall of Famer who retired with 30 knockouts; but his soon-to-be seventh wife, who is nearly 40 years his junior, will not let him smoke in his own apartment.

It was an hour before his curtain call, and LaMotta — known as the Raging Bull — was killing time, having come to the end of his day’s routine. He got up, as usual, at 8 a.m. and read The New York Post. He ate a banana and some yogurt. He rested and then rehearsed his lines for his star turn in an Off Broadway show about himself that closed Sunday night after a brief engagement at the Richmond Shepard Theater on East 26th Street.

And what does he do the rest of the day?

“I play solitaire,” he said in a throaty Bronx rumble, “and wait for something to happen.”

At least for the length of its two-week run, that something was “The Lady and the Champ,” a 50-minute, cabaret-style revue, recounting LaMotta’s life in the ring through video clips, old jazz standards, boxing stories and campy jokes (“I fought Sugar Ray Robinson so many times it’s a wonder I don’t have diabetes”). The sweet science offers any number of metaphors for the savage beating LaMotta took for all of this from his reviewers. But let’s speak plainly: the show got panned.