TALES AND FANCIES

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 74, 18 June 1927, Page 11

TALES AND FANCIES

FROM THE PEN — OF —■ FRITZ HOLLAND (All rights reserved )

BEST POLICY

Cuff was having a bad spin. That affair at Waterville had been I j us t about the last straw. I Imagine it! He had tried to “fix” the affair with } the stupid blacksmith, but the clown I k a d insisted on a square fight. | Well, he had it, and with a ven- ■ geance. 1 Cuff had knocked him cold with a I single punch. And then to have had I the money withheld! It was ironical! Cuff, by tiresome stages, had walked I from Waterville to Harrington— l3o 1 m iics—where he was offered a match I with a heavyweight named Goddard, I not a bad fighter, but one who was lacking in “heart.” He was at least a score of years [ Cuffs’ junior—trim, well-built and j fairly clever, but his faintness of heart had prevented his getting beyond the “meal-ticket” stage. While training Cuff had heard some alarming reports. Goddard was reported to be in perfect condition. He was said to be boxing splendidly, and to be the personification of self-confi-dence. Cuff was no coward, but, in view of the disparity in ages, he realised that he would need a fair share of luck, and all of his limited boxing skill and ring-craft to win. Goddard’s only weakness, it seemed, was his timidity. Cuff would have to play upon that! The house was filling rapidly. Cuff had conceived a plan to intimidate Goddard. Striding into Goddard’s dressing-room, Cuff played his trumpcard. “So you’re Goddard,” he roared. “I’ll knock your damned head off to-night, Goddard!” Then returned to his own dressingroom, he sat down and awaited the call to action. He had left Goddard in a state of collapse. Cuff reckoned that now he should be able to hit Goddard at least once, and Cuff needed to hit a man once only. Time was dragging. And yet another speech! There seemed to be a lot of delay, •nd judging by the sound of shuffling feet, a bigger crowd than had been •xpected must be gathering. Silence followed. What were they waiting for? Cuff was on the point of going cut to ascertain the cause of the delay, when the promoter entered and said: “Get your clothes on, Ed. The fight’s off, and the crowd have gone. Goddard borrowed a horse, and he’d bo half-way to Spokane by now. Something must have frightened him.” Twice in succession; Straight lights were profitless! Honesty, obviously, was not the best policy! Borrowing five dollars from the promoter, Cuff spent the amount on railroad fare. He wanted to go away—as far as possible. Bonner’s Ferry, an Idaho town, was the end of his journey. Here his luck changed. There was a negro pug in the town, j. Cuff challenged him. The negro accepted. The match v.-c.s held. The negro won; Cuff received 100 dollars; and his pecuniary worries Were over—temporarily. He headed for Canada, 100 mLles tway.

Arriving in Rossland, Cuff joined t'ne ranks of the unemployed, as there were no fighters to fight.

In vain did he plead with the local promoter to import an opponent for him. The financial risk was too great. Cuff was at a dead end.

Jogging along the railway line, Cuff met a gigantic Dutchman, a behemoth of a man. Here was an opponent, if he could be induced to fight! Stopping the man, Cuff abruptly stated his proposition. “You and me is goin’ to fight,” he said, with his usual lack of finesse. The Dutchman was astounded. In what way had he offended mynherr ? He would apologise. He didn’t want to fight. But Cuff, outlining the proposal, at last persuaded the big fellow to box, Cuff agreeing to allow the Dutchman to win. The match was arranged and advertised. Cuff made a great display of hia training. The Dutchman was more secretive. He, for obvious reasons, trained privately. Cuff’s punch and the Dutchman’s size were discussed wherever sports congregated. Cuff gave all of his money to the Dutchman to bet upon himself, at the very satisfactory odds offering, Cuff being a hot favourite in the betting. Cuff also drew his share of the purse in advance, wearing that upon the Dutchman as well. The stage was all set for the “clean-up.” Cuff strolled into the shop where the tickets were on sale, when a local wag said to him: “Ed, this big Dutchman says he will break your neck tonight. He says you can’t fight, and that you’re not game.” “He says I’m not game, does he? He says that, does he?” Cuff grated and walked out. That had come to putting the big mug into “the game!” Now the thankless wretch was slandering his benefactor! When the bell rang for the fight (?) to begin, Cuff strode across the ring and smote the astonished Dutchman a fearful clout on the chin —and Cuff’s money and the gate receipts were as lost as the Dutchman’s consciousness. IRISH! “Uncle Billy” Jordan, now dead, was America’s most famous fight announcer. He was ready to introduce the principals in the Gregory-Ryan contest. Gregory’s presentation to the crowd was accomplished in fine style in “Uncle Billy’s” inimitable way* He was ready, then, to introduce “Ryan.” Upon looking closer “Uncle Billy” was astounded to discover that “Ryan” was a Greek. Now, this was a most unsatisfactory state of affairs. “Uncle Billy’s” Irish blood boiled. “What’s your name?” he growled. “Jimmy Reilly.” “G’wan now! ’Tis your right name I’m wantin’. What is it, at all? You’re no Reilly!” “Theodoro.” “Theodoro what?” “Theodoro Pappatftecdorokamountolakapolie.” Turning to the crowd, “Uncle Billy” held up his hand for silence, gulped a couple of times, and bellowed:—

‘Gentlemen! Jimmy Reilly!