TOM HEENEY.

Manawatu Herald, Volume L, Issue 3946, 23 May 1929, Page 4

TOM HEENEY.

WIONALL’-S THEORY. PSYCHOLOGICAL iS'TUDY. SOME GOOD STORIES. Trevor Wlignall, a foremost authority, writes as follows in the London Daily Explress of March 23: —i The progress from obscurity to prominence of the average professional fighter is more often than not like the rising of the moon slow, and in many cases scarcely discernible. His descent can be like the falling of a star—swift, and with total extinction at the journey’s end. IConsider the ease of Tom Heeney the New Zealand ex-blacksmith, who in July of 1928 fought Gene Tunney for the world’s heavyweight championship. This time last year Heeney was one of the greatest fighters of the globe. He was not only featured in the sports pages of most of the newspapers, but hajjwas making money rapidly, while it is known now that it had practically been decided that he’should be Tunney’s next —and last —opponent. In little more than 12-months he jumped from nowhere to the pugilistic heights. HEENEY’iS DESCENT.

To-day his career seems to bo at an end, and all because he has been beaten by two men who last July were not thought to be within measurable distance of his class. It was without surprise that I read that lie h&d been beaten by Jim Maloney, the 'Boston truckdriver lie had previously knocked out in seventy seven seconds; but it was with sadness that I beard that he had also been defeated by tlie second-rater, Otto von Porat, the Norwegian, who is now residing in Chicago. Not by any stretch of the imagination can von Porat be described as a 'contender for Tuiiney’s vacant title. The only outstanding thing he ever did, as a matter of fact, was to win the heavy-weight championship at the Paris Olympic 'Games in 1924. ROMANTIC FIGURE I shall always remember Heeney as one of boxing’s most romantic figulres. Wjithout putting too fine a point on it, he was a comparative failure on this side, but within six months of landing in New York he was a personality. The thanks in the main, were due to himself, but so it is questionable if he would have left the ruck if it had not been for the efforts put forward on his behalf by Charlie Harvey and John Molrtilmer, his American and English managers. “HIS DAY WAS DONE.”

The full story of his contest with Tunney —the real reason why he was selected, his peculiar condition on the afternoon of the fight, wlieu his blood-pressure forced the doctor who examined him to think that lie was on the verge of apoplexy, and the injury to his optic nerve which instantaneously destroyed his last hope of success —will probably never be told, but I I’ecollect now that when I chatted with old Tom on the decile of the Aquitania on the night I sailed from 'New York for .home, the belief came to me, and could not be erased, that his day was done. Most unfortunately, for Heeney was always a favourite of mine, it looks as if the intuition was correct. THEY RARELY RECOVER. Long before rthe tenth round at the Yankee Stadium, when he fell helplessly and hopelessly, I had a feeling that Tunney’s repeated punches to his heart, liver and optic nerve were sapping his vitality and his fighting skill. Only once in a blue moon does a boxer completely recover from a h aimering su'eh as 'Heeney endifrcd for more than thirty minutes. In the majority of cases —and Dellipse v proved this —he becomes a tired veteran without .speed, without much ability, and sometimes without spirit. WIEIA'T TUNNEY WANTED. A few months ago I discussed this very point with Gene Tunney. Fresh back from Italy, where he had got a trifle sick of the food, he had asked me to talke him somewhere where lie could ea.t English beef. I took 'him to a restaurant in the Strand, and there for an hour, we discussed books and boxing. THE LAST STRAW.

“Gene,” 1 said, “it’s in the papers this m riming that Tom Heeney is on his way hack to the States from New Zealand. Do you think he will ever Ibe any good again?” The retired champion shrugged his shoulders. lie is not fond of committing himself even when with intimate friends. “That was a pretty had hiding you gave him, wasn’t it?” I persisted. “Uim, I suppose it was,” replied Tunney. “Don’t you think you finished him?” Gene was silent for nearly a minute. Then, .rather sorrowfully, “Yes, I’m afraid I did,” he said. Maloney and Porat have apparently confirmed this view. NOT A SHOWMAN. : There was never anything of the showman about Heeney, and it would not surprise me to learn now that he suffered more in that Hades of a training camp at Fairhaven — where he was continually surrounded by managers, relatives, trainers, imasseurs, reporters and mosquitoes —t-han he did in the ring when Tunney was flaying him to exhaustion. He was always genial, and of a naturally kindly disposition, but there is one story I can tell that shows that he could be annoyed by trivialities. WHY PHIL SOOTT LOST. On the night Phil Scott fought

Knute Hansen at Madison Squaregarden, Heeney was introduced from the ring. As is customary, he shook hands with both fighters as they sat in their corners. For some unaccountable reason Heeney disliked the way Scott offered his hand. Huff led, lie crossed to Hansen and said: — “Listen. If you want to win quickly hit this guy with a left hook.” Hansen’s trainer interposed: “Is that on the level?” he asked. “Absolutely,” answered Heeney. “It means changing our tactics,” muttered the trainer. “Tom, tell me again. Is this 0.K.?” “Hit him with a left hook,” repeated Heeney. “And let it go as soon as you reach him.” WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN. It is history now that Hansen followed the advice,, and that Scott was on the canvas almost before be knew the flglit had started. It is such minor incidents as these that have the biggest bearing on important battles. If Heeney had not spoken, it is quite possible that Scott would have made a much moke impressive American debut.