Felony Fists by Jack Tunney & Paul Bishop

Author:Jack Tunney & Paul Bishop [Tunney, Jack & Bishop, Paul]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B0066I74UE
Publisher: Fight Card Productions
Published: 2014-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

ROUND 10

Before I really knew it, the night of the Haywood fight was upon us. I was anxious, which was usual before a fight. Once the first blows were thrown and received nothing else would matter.

Boxing was one man versus another man, and Father Tim had taught both me and Mickey we were always man enough. Officially, I was stepping up tonight – not only entering the pro ranks, but moving into the world of the light-heavyweights. However, back at the orphanage and all the way through my Shore Patrol duties and beyond, I’d fought whoever had come my way – bigger, badder, meaner, two guys, three guys, more, it didn’t matter.

I needed to fight. Getting hit and hitting back harder was in the marrow of my bones. I’d tried to run away from it when I left the Navy to join the cops and do something different. But here I was going into the ring with everything on the line again, and I realized how much I’d missed it.

Trevor Haywood was big. A true light-heavyweight. But he hadn’t taken me seriously. Why should he? I was an amateur middleweight making the step up to light-heavyweight for his first pro fight. So, Haywood was big, but he was out of top shape.

When he threw a punch, I clearly saw it coming, blocking and countering. I was throwing two or three punches for every jab he threw. I felt ready. I felt strong. It was only the first round, but the fight was already taking on its unique character – me dancing and Haywood lumbering after me.

We were back at the Olympic Auditorium, but this time I’d been promoted to the undercard – one fight below the evening’s main event. The weigh-in for the fight had been that morning. I was still five pounds under the light-heavyweight limit, but Mama Hawks had sewn two lead weights into my silk shorts, and I tipped the scales at two pounds over the lower limit.

I moved in to pound at the perceptible layer of fat around Haywood’s belly. He didn’t even grunt. At one time, Haywood had been a contender, but booze and broads had taken their toll. His manager had done a good job of keeping the inevitable hidden from the boxing writers, even to the point of keeping Haywood’s workouts closed to reporters and the public. But, in itself, that was a bad sign and the word was on the street.

Nothing Haywood was showing me tonight so far was going to change anything for him, even if he won.

I covered up when Haywood threw a heavy hitting right and left. I felt the power that had once been behind them, but now they landed with more thud than bang. I kept my arms up and my elbows tucked in. I moved away and counter punched.

The bell to end the round dinged and I headed for my corner. Pops got busy yammering at me while Tina took out my mouthpiece and got busy with the sponge.

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