Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1906-09-11

never started one Of my opponents down to-
ward that gloomy world of shadows to
which the beaten prize fighter goes that
didn't feel sorry MORALLY sorry. for him
away deep down in the midrin OF me.
always caught in the eye of the man was
thrashing the expression of man VINO
knows he Is being licked; hunted. des-
perate expression: wounded. hurt express
sion: an expression such as ones own
brother might put on after some unjust
slight, much less blow: and when l
caught that baffied and pathetic expression
in the eye Of a man whom 1 was beating
and stabbing and binding with his own
blood, want to go on record as saying
now. when 1t is all over. that felt like
miserable brute, a cruel bully unfit to live.
and the whole thing sfckened and mar
rowed me beyond measure. I felt ashamed
of myself-ashamed Of being where l was
ashamed Of the mad shouts Of the men IN
the amphitheater to go in and kill and
slaughter the poor devil already rocking
toward the inevitable end, ashamed OF the
whole internal situation from beginning to
end. And often, at that stage OF night,
when right in the flush of victory-if such
conquest could rightly be called victory
Il found myself swearing in my heart that
I'd never get myself into that position
again: that I'd quit it forever after that
fight, and try to forget 1t and live it down.
and shut 1t out forever from my memory
The acuteness Of the shame would wear on
in the course Of fine. am bound to con-
fess, but never quite lost the memory OF
It during my fighting days nor did ever
become SO calloused to it that all that Is
decent in me didn't cry out against 1t ana
all that 1 possess Of truth didn't go to the
man to whom l was administering defeat
ut was often said at the time that I
hated poor old John L., and that gloat-
ed in my victory over him. There wasn't
much of foundation of truth in any OF
this. 1 was a very young man at the time
got the championship by thrashing Sui
Ivan, and there isn't the least doubt in
life that was afflicted sorely with the big
head both before and after that fight. l
was young and vealy enough before the
fight, at any rate, to feel considerably
wrought up over the slurs which was told
John l.. had put upon met was my vanity
that was touched. John L. has often told
me since. in his hours of calm, that he
never gave vent to these SCOTS at all be-
fore that fight. and he told 1t to me in such
q way that thoroughly believed him and
believe him now. But even supposing that
he did make those remarks. as of course
believed he had at the time. it was the fash
lon of that day for prize fighters to scold
their prospective opponents furiously and
viciously. Being pretty young, as l say.
youthful elephantiasis. was certainly sore
against Sullivan when I got into the ring
with him. But had no sooner got into
the ring and seen Sullivan that felt sorry
for him. knew that / was going to lick
him-there was no vanity in that, but pure
bunch. was as strong as bull moose.
better even in that early day than 1 ever
was afterward. and could see plainly that
John L. wasn't right. not up to himself. and
I felt absolutely certain that was going
to beat him. And the minute that certainty
and seeing the big fellow. felt keenly
sorry for him. I knew what the champion
ship meant to him. and what its loss would
mean to him. The old chap loved the idolatry
~ a. 1,4 1IoS tvn khD lot
of the multitudes. applause was the breath
in his nostrils, and he had held the cham
pionship for SO long that he had natur-
ally come to suppose that 1t belonged by
right to him for the term of his natural
life, and he never. am confident, figured
on losing 1t by any hook or crook or acct
dent.
when the fight began and started in to
get to the big fellow at VIII. while he
couldn't reach me even with his famous
PUSHES, the expression on his face Is some
thing that shall never forget. During the
first few rounds 1t was an expression of
acute surprise. of perfect wonder. in which
there was scarcely any mingling of rage.
all of the stories to that effect to the con-
trary Notwithstanding. John L. didn't APP
pear to be in the least angry. He was
just amazed, practically stunned with as
constituent. But as the fight progressed
the expression changed. The CLEAN Of de-
feat shone In his eyes. He knew he was
in the after years. He saw that he had no
chance and that my youth and agility were
surely wearing him down. And then no
looked pitiful. / hated to hit him. He had
been my pugilistic idol. too, as well as the
idol Of the others, through my boyhood and
early manhood, long before I had even
dreamed of meeting him In the ring, and
when saw that hunted, pathetic look in
the old fellows. eyes every blow 1 let fall
upon him hurt me. as I verify believe. al
most as much as it hurt him. and felt as II
were hitting somebody In my own family.
All of his taunts about me were forgotten.
the finish Of all his bright years. his hap
piness over the tumult of men over his least
appearance. all at an end. and his clutch on
the world inevitably slipping out of his
grasp. Sorry for the old man? My heart
bled for him! You've often seen or heard
Of victorious prize fighters In the moment
of victory rushing over to their fallen OPP
ponents, and, STOPPING down. kissing them.
That always reads like something maudlin
and unpleasant, but It doesn't seem to when
you're on the spot. 1t il nothing but the
overmastering impulse of sorrow on the
part of the triumphant fighter for the fallen
but fellows who were all right at heart ever
felt impelled to do It
LAS for my own defeat. 1 had that dis
counted a long time before 1t came. didn't
expect Ftzsimmons- to get me. although
I am bound to say that felt no confidence
that I was going to lick him. But knew
that my day to be thrashed would surely
come, and had done my best. always. ev-
cry time I got into the ring. to steel my
self again 1t. When 1t came. 1t was hard.
bitterly hard--I am not gainsaying that.
nho mir W. aurr