Calling For Blood.

Taranaki Central Press, Volume IV, Issue 311, 17 December 1936, Page 4 (Supplement)

Calling For Blood.

goes still . . . left, left, left ... he peppers away . . . crushing blows, all of them . . . now, a right . . . what a beauty! . . . Steel takes it on the jaw. ' , . now Steel comes back at. Baker . . . he’s throwing left and right at. the Canadian’s head . . . but Baker backmoves as easily as a cat . . . Steel is on him now ... no! . . . Baker counters with a drive to tl& body . . . he’s weaving backward and forward under Steel’s guard . . . what a right! ... he sank a piledriver to the pit of Steel's stomach . . . poor Johnny! ... he won’t go the distance with this man. ‘•Round two . . . Baker now has Steel’s measure . . . the local boy' is plucky . . . he’s got courage a-plenty, and Baker, good sport that he seems to be, is the first, to appreciate it. . . . lie smiles in friendly fashion as he blocks and ducks Johnny’s leads . . . now he’s letting the boy do most of the leading . . . but Steel is perplexed . . . despite desperate punching he cannot connect . . . Baker’s coming in now . . . Steel is more dismayed than ever . . . poor kid . . . he’s no match for the Canadian.”

was the primeval blood-lust of the frenzied mass, and they minced not their demands. ♦ The hall was in an uproar. Listeners, too, were swayed by the intensity of the situation. They wanted blood, too. In a. yell, the commentator shrieked his description of the scene. “Bhker is now waving to the crowd ... he will go in and tight . . . now he’s fighting . . . he’s cutting loose with left and right . . . not for a moment does he let up . . . Steel is done . . . he’s in a daze . . . he’s taking .terrific punishment . . . blood! . . . it’s everywhere, all Steel’s . . . Baker is making mincemeat of the kid, though he hates to do it, judging by the look of anguish on his face.” The roars of the crowd increased, and Hie commentator yelled in a frenzy. “. . . It’s almost murder . . Steel is groggy, but, Baker piles it on . . . it’s the end . . . the referee has stopped it. . . . Steel has collapsed in a pool of his own blood . . .

* * * For three more rounds the commentator continued in the same strain. It was obvious that II ker was carrying Steel. “A fine fellow, Baker,” commented a listener. “Decent of him not to smash into Steel.” But the crowd around the ring thought otherwise. Their yells almost drowned the voice of the announcer at the microphone. ‘‘Come on, Baker,” they roared. “Show us what you’re made of. Give us our money’s worth. Are you frightened of the kid?” The shouts increased in intensity. The crowd wanted blood. They 1 had lost their sense of sportsmanship in the uprush of primitive instincts. It

An Amazing Boxing Broadcast

he’s cut and pulped to pieces . . . the fight is over. “But wait . . . Baker is leaning over the ropes, bidding the crowd be quiet . . . he’s trying to speak . . . listen!” The noise of the maddened crowd subsided. To the radio listeners as to that hall of lustful spectators came clearly the words of the boxer: “You asked for blood. Well, yeu got it. Jackals, bloody jackals, all of you.”