Fearless Boxing Champion

Dominion, Volume 29, Issue 198, 19 May 1936, Page 14

Fearless Boxing Champion

Braddock Not Afraid Of Louis

SEPTEMBER is a long way off, but already the fires of hate for Joe Louis are smouldering iu the bosom of our heavyweight champion of the world, says an American sports writer. Three months ago Jim Braddock had nothing but praise for the Detroit negro. The same a mouth ago. But now, stretched out on the sands of Miami Beach, the best Jersey Jim can say for Joe is that be is a kid who has come along too fast; a kid whose mighty record is a phoney thing, builded on the treacherous sands of over-zealous reporters and chicken-hearted opponents who I showed the white feather with the first bite of the negro’s gaff. Being a tactless soul, you ask Jim Braddock if his new scorn for Joe Louis is fou.nded on jealousy; if bis resentment is not a natural growth following Joe Louis’s complete overshadowing of the heavyweight champion in the public eye. After all, it must be a bit riling for promoters to begin a “white hope” search while a white man still sits on the heavyweight throne. The pointed question didn’t anger Jim Braddock. Maybe it’s hard to excite a man who has been going to the ring wars ( for more than ten years, who has scrapped it out for a living on New York’s docks, who has felt the barbs that charity digs into a proud man, and in whose ears the ring of the word 'bum” are more familiar than the words "Howya, champ!” “No, I’m not jealous of Joe,” he said, rolling over in the sand and wrinkling the map of Ireland which serves him for a face, “Let ’em whoop and yell for him. The more they yell the more they’ll pay to see us fight anil the easier he’ll think I’m going to be. And the easier be thinks iiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiimiiiimi

I'm going to be, the easier he’ll be. See? "But every time I read aud bear about bow wonderful he is, and what an ordinary champion I am, I get to wondering where Joe’ll be after he’s been in this racket as long as I have. I’ve been taking it and dishing it out for going on. ’leven years, but right now I’m the champion. You know this game well enough to know that you don’t stay around it that loug unless you’ve got something. If you're a bum you're rocking on your heels in a year or two. I’ve fought damn near all of them in my time, and I’ve been knocked down just twice, and I’m not marked up. See?” Jim Braddock rolled his head iu the saud ami there were practically uo souvenirs of his years iu the ring. Just a slight scar over one eye, and a little ecar tissue ou liie ears. Did Jim Braddock think he could beat Joe Louis? "Yeah! I saw him fight three of those punching bags be knocked out, aud I'm uot afraid of what he’s got. His left hand is all right, but that right aiu’t so hot. Don't let anybody tell you he only throws that right of hie about six inches. He winds it up aud swings it like a pitcher. i “Anybody could look good against those paralysed bums he's been beating. Baer told me hie whole body was numb when he got in against him. Scared to death, I guess. So was Levinsky and so was Retzlafif. Camera wasn't scared, but he's just a circus. And I never will understand why Paulino, after fighting in his shell for three rounds, and not getting bit, suddenly decided to stick his chin out over the top of his arms for a target. Anybody could have knocked him stiff, then.” February, March, April, May. June, July—September! Then we'll know. iimiinitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiitimiimiiimiiiiiiitiiiii