Summary

Bohun Lynch Knuckles and Gloves

But to land that blow where no hardihood can stand against it, that is, at the side of the chin, is another matter, and calls for thought and guile. And the cunning though not yet the strength seemed to have gone from Corbett. When a boxer is worn out it is often his forethought and ringcraft which give out before the actual force of his blows. And Fitzsimmons must have looked horrible, soaked in blood and with ferocious eyes and the iron hardness of his limbs still full of spring and vigour. With his long arms swinging, he slouched round the ring watching his opportunity.
Source: Gutenberg

Bohun Lynch Knuckles and Gloves

Champion, therefore, meant Champion—the best man that could be found. There was no qualification of the title—no middle, welter, feather, bantam, fly, or paper-weight. If a first-rate boxer of eight stone liked to fight another of sixteen stone—I suppose he could, but, rather naturally, he didn’t. In the old annals, though there is some record of the lesser men—lesser very often only in size and not in skill or courage—they are overshadowed by the big fellows far more than they are to-day. Even now, of course, from the spectacular point of view, big men—heavy-weights—cause far more excitement.
Source: Gutenberg

Bohun Lynch Knuckles and Gloves

Swinging his weight forward, he aimed a tremendous blow with the right at Jem, who, with all his old coolness and dexterity, guarded it, and joined gladly in the fierce rally that ensued. Then in a lull out came Pearce’s long arms again to seize Jem in a bear-like hug and throw him down.
And so they fought on. Other things being equal, the boxer wins. And so far as boxing goes Jem had this battle all his own way, but he could not withstand that grim hug, which caught him round after round about his middle and hurled him, shaken and weakening, to the ground.
Source: Gutenberg

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