"THE GAME."

Timaru Herald, Volume XIC, Issue 13422, 21 October 1907, Page 3

"THE GAME."

AS, VIE WED BY AN AMATEUR.

•" Squib." in Sydney "Bulletin" writes:—An ex-champion amateur pug moralises. "There is no:hing in the 'onor and glory harouchewsr game except 'ard. knocks, iuid even with success your efforts me rewarded with a. piece of gold and enamel worth at the outside fifty bob. At first yer dead enthusiastic, and launch out with a top-notch instructor. Tie treats you g-ently for a bit;, but later deals out sundry jolts just ter knock yer into shape: He puto a finishing touch on by letting his pet- pupil—a shifty pro. who finds it difficult to obtain a sparring , partner—makes a chopping b'otk of yer enthusiastic phisog. As the competitions are drawing des-; you must look after wind and weight, i-.o yoii indulge in long walks wrapped in half a dozen sweaters and several yards of blanket, finishing with a Tiukish or 'ot sea-bath. Then diet—no rich puddins, pilotry or greasy meat—you'd do better in gaol. Passing the pastry shop you sigh for a tarf or cream puff, and the championship, is always looming.- It envelopes you, working walking, eating; it's always before you, and us/ee-p you drem of 'biff, biff.' After months of training and self-denial, you enter, and are accepted by a white-shirted committee, at a kind of court-martial as to whether you're a brewer,. a beef-eater, or, your, great-grandfather a lag. At last the night arrives. It's your first appearance in public. The hall's crowded. Yon recognise no one, not even, your second All ie a confused mass, as you sit in the corner and smile a sickly smile at t-other 'feller in the opposite one. The referee treats you'like a- father. 'Now, boys, don't 'old and 'it. Shake hands. Box on.' Assuming a ferocious expression, you. niake for t'other fellow, who glares in similar fashion . At first your attiUide is just, the thing, and you spar and exhibit natty footwork. Than you slop a solid 1 left with your face, and the contest ends in three wild afld awful i-ounds. , Science is thrown to the winds. 'He 'it me; I'll 'ave a bit of 'im' —co you mostly bog in. T'other feller's phiz appears; gigantic, and at intervals you view stars and comets. Then wild cheers, you -don't know what for. A gent in a' boiled shirt declares you winner, and you retire resienibling more or less a Yaira suicide. Several similar contests, : and you qualify for the final. At thfo stage you enter the ring the worse for wear; but less excited. Then you're at it, t'other chap landing some heavy clouts, but you wait and watch for ah opening. At'last he overreaches, and you send in your best right swing . It seems to buiy light into his jaw. , Ha hits the floor with>-a thud 1 like' a side of mutton. -You want to jump on him but the referee sends you to the corner while the ten seconds are counted. The boiled shirt feller declares you chain-.' pion. , Y"ou exit like a piece of chewed string.. T'other chap goes away feet first. You are champion, with a fifty bob medal. The outed chap is quite silly for days, and requires a spell on the kirbstone on his' way to: toil. His preparation ccet him nigh- a tenner, and h# gets a junk of silver worth fully ten bob.'V The moraliser isn't taking any more biff or medals.-'. " I look on now—say* I can't get the ■weight, or something."