The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1926-05-21
meself, an If there's anything In this
goat biz, I'll sure cage the animal"

meself, an If there's anything In this
goat biz, I'll sure cage the animal"
Let us now invade the champions
training quarters. The room is very
similar to that In which we found
Slavin. A group of newspaper men
and fight fans are eagerly watching
the mornings work. The Cyclone is
having bout with Tim Murphy, one
of his sparring partners. The blows
fall thick and fast on Tins chest
and shoulders and head. He seems I'M
able to elude the Cyclones scientifical-
ly delivered punches. Suddenly the
champion starts and stares, a look
of fright displaces his confident and
aggressive air, and uncovered, a blow
from Murphy fells him to the floor.
The spectators are astonished. Few
of them have noticed the cause of
Grogan's discomforture. / did. A good
reporter has to see, even If he Is not
permitted to record everything. That
is, perhaps, the reason why I have
ferreted out the story Of Grogan's
defeat. 1t may also explain the rea-
son why l cleaned up enough money
on the fight to retire from paperdom.
We shall let Slinky again speak
for himself to Mccoy.
"Sure," he is saying, "T'was cinch.
I've lifted his geat. Wantta see the
beast?" and he places small, green
object in McCoy's outstretched hand.
Twenty-Five rounds of the Grogan-
Slavin fight were classic-a pugil-
istic drama. Never In the history of
the ring had there been such a bat
tie. 1t was whirlwind of quick ac-
ton. Grogan, the Kansas Cyclene, 1913
pounds stripped, lean and sinewy, in
perfect fighting trim, was at his best.
Slavin, twelve pounds lighter, well
deserved his nickname. He was, per-
haps, the speediest performer ever
admitted to the roped arena.
The first six rounds were more or
less of a skirmish, each guaging the
other In the seventh, Gregan took
the aggressive All that saved Weasel
in the fifteenth was his agility in the
eighteenth, the gong. From then on
to the twenty-third I have never seen
such an exhibition of gameness. Slav-
in was almost literally battered to a
pulp. On that twenty-secend round
the referee had reached the count of
nine when the gong sounded.
The gong Changed again and the
cyclone rushed like whirlwind to
meet his opponent, who groggily reeled
from his corner. A gasp ran through
the crowd-they were keyed for the
knockout. Then just before they en-
countered, the Cyclone hzzled to a
gentle zephyr. He seemed to be in a
daze and a look of fear crept into
his face. There were the thumps of
two blows delivered so rapidly that
they sounded almost as enc. The
weasel had hurled his right into Gro
gan's solar-plexus, and deposited his
left on the base of Grogan's right
ear. Grogan dropped like log and
remained uninterested in the subse-
quent proceedings long after he had
been counted out.
A sigh stirred the house, and then
pandemonium reigned. Cheers and
Kisses and groans, shouts of triumph
and of anger were confusedly inter
mingled. Grogan had unexpectedly
developed yellow streak. There
were not a few who loudly proclaimed
it a frame-up! A riot was averted
| only by the sudden appearance Of the
police in force-their timely entrance
giving color to the charge. The crowd
dispersed sullenly. Such was the fight
as it went down in history.
| What really happened in that TWEEN
| ty-third round was this: When the
| Weasel had retired to his corner at
the end of the twenty-second, he whis.
pered into McCoy's ear. Get his goat
I'm all in" So, when at the tap OF
the gong, the Cyclone advanced, q
veritable whirlwind, Mccoy and 1
alone of the thousands of spectators
watched a toad-a common, ordinary
garden variety of hop-toad, hopping
toward Grogan. Grogan saw 1t, and
that was enough. 1t was Grogan's
goat-the one thing between earth and
sky that the Cyclone feared.