When Greek Meets Greek

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 154, 20 September 1927, Page 13

When Greek Meets Greek

Observations on the Gentle Art of “Stouch’'

There are some doleful people in this world. Climbing up the stone steps to the exits of the Town Hall last night, the writer had his ears assailed with the following jarring comment from a loquacious gentleman of considerable avoirdupois: "Huh. nothing but stouch, stouch, stouch—no science a 1; all—and they call that boxing.” I suggest that if this disgruntled person will call on Mr. Jack Watts, secretary of the N.8.A., he should have his money handed back, with a recommendation that he invest in a life member’s ticket in the royal and ancient sport of tiddleywinks. It is a profitless task to try to pin down the essentials of good boxing. Tunney says one thing, and Dempsey the exact opposite. But most people

know when they have seen a good fight. Anyone who was dissatisfied with last night’s bout had better give up going to boxing contests and take up missionary work among the Spanish bullfighters. The pace was on from the word go. The only interruption to 15 fiery sessions came in the 10th, when Referee Johnson nimbly skipped out of the way of a murderous uppercut, which McDonald let fly just as the referee was breaking the men up in. a clinch. The nerve-racking state of high tension in the “house” was broken. Even McDonald’s set features relaxed into a smile.

After the first five rounds it did not look as if the torrid pace could last. McDonald, grim and relentless, incessantly driving in with straight left to the collarbone and right cross to the face, seemed to have Broadfoot’s measure. The younger lad looked as if he would not see it out, for all his speed and ability to beat his opponent to the punch. He was landing home four times to his opponent’s three, but the rugged Scot was getting more power into his punches, and. Broadfoot’s face was occasionally crossed by a spasm of pain.

With monotonous regularity Medonald opened each session by scoring with his left. A more experienced fighter than Broadfoot would have blocked that punch once in a while at least. But Broadfoot seemed to see nothing but the moving target in front of him, and the lust of battle.

Midway through the contest he was fighting more strongly than when he started, taking terrific punishment and giving it back with a quick-lire succession of left rips to the stomach and short-arm jabs to eyes- and mouth. The Aucklander faltered momentarily in the 13th, recovered brilliantly, then sagged again in the last session; but at the final gong he was fighting back as courageously as ever. It \va.s a superb display of sheer grit against a more experienced and craftier opponent. Both men were cheered to the echo.

When all is said apd done, I think a draw would have been nearer the mark. McDonald’s greater penetrative power was offset by his younger rival’s bigger tally of scoring points. McDonald fought a magnificent battle. At times he exacted heavy toll of the openings that a two-fisted fighter like Broadfoot is bound to leave, and his grim coolness and apparent imperviousness to punishment might have upset a much more matured fighter.

Eroadfoot will go far in the game. He has a fighter’s heart —no boxer could have stood up to the terrific pounding he took without it —and when the faults of inexperience are corrected he should be a big drawing card on the other side of the Tasman Sea, which he purposes crossing in I'he summer.

He can learn much from this fight—the lQQkjLng. over fop uoppcin.-*

ent's shoulder in the close stuff: the necessity for bringing: the right hand back on the recoil as fast as he can to protect jaw and body from a ight

or left counter: and the old ring: maxim: ‘When in doubt go in: don't

step away.” McDonald's shift from left lead to southpaw bad him badly puzzled once or twice, and he nearly took a sleeping draught on one occasion through stepping back, instead of jumping in at once and nullifying the

effect of the Southerner's changeover from the orthodox stance. Onlv

| the quickness that was nearly always in evidence in his work saved him on ! that occasion. New as he is to the i ranks of professional pugilism. the fine points of in-fighting will want brushing up—he will not always be flighting two-minute rounds with a referee strict on the break-away. As for McDonald, there will be a genuine feeling of regret that we are not likely to see him again for some time to come. Pie told me the other day that this would most likely be his last fight in New Zealand for the present, as he intends going over to Sydney. He modestly added that if he did not do any good in Australia he was coming straight back to New Zealand. Somehow one feels that he won’t be coming back in a hurry. He needs no better recommendation than the fight he put up last night. A WORD IN SEASON In order to remove any doubts or. a certain point, a word may not be out of place on the subject of Broadfoot’s rapid rise to the front rank of professional boxing*. Three months ago he was an unknown boxer, his real ability known dnly to a few who have more than a nodding acquaintance with the Auckland Fire Brigade Gymnasium. The debateabie question, “who saw him first?” may be left to those who are best aware of the position, and once he got his chance, Broadfoot deserves all the credit for the way he made good. But this paper can claim to have had something to do with the breaking down of the prejudice against the home-grown article, and in case these things are forgotten, there are two other local aspirants who were listed

with him. viz... Frank Taylor and Matt Hatton. They are next on the list for further recognition by the powers that be in Auckland. J. M. McK.