“A PILE-DRIVER.”

Star (Christchurch), Volume LXIV, Issue 804, 3 July 1933, Page 10

“A PILE-DRIVER.”

British Boxer Knocks Out German. JACK PETERSEN’S TRIUMPH. (Special to the “Star”) LONDON, May 24. Jack Petersen, the heavy-weight champion of Great Britain, struck a magnificent blow for the prestige of British boxing when he knocked out Heine Muller, heavy-weight champion of Germany, in the first round of a fif-teen-round bout at Cardiff. It was a magnificent blow in every sense, perfectly timed, perfectly delivered, and perfectly placed. It struck Muller with all the force of a pile-driver just beneath the breastbone, and reduced him, two minutes after the round had begun, to a crumpled, writhing heap on the canvas. Nothing so exciting, nothing so inspiring as this blow has been seen in British rings for years, and the enormous crowd, more than 60,000 strong, which was packed into eyery available inch of space in the Ninian Park footi ball ground, went home on the crest of a wave of elation. Muller was given an enthusiastic cheer, which he acknowledged with his typically quick smile and his whimsical lift of the eyebrows. Then Petersen arrived to the tune of “Land of Hope and Glory,” and the. crowd burst into thunderous applause. He bore the badge of his profession in the shape of his broken nose, but he moved as calmly and as coolly as a large cat. This simile was justified very rapidly. He played with Muller just as if the German were a mouse—but an extremely courageous and gallant mouse. Petersen went straight in and attacked with his right. The crowd rippled with excitement, which was increased as he planted a very pretty left on Muller’s chin. It was a fight in which it was fatal to let one’s eye stray from the ring for half a split second. Petersen continued piling up points for the second minute, and brought a deep flush into the German’s face by the ruthlessness of his attack. Miiller knew very well that he was opposed to the stiffest proposition of his career. And then, with a suddenness that made everyone gasp, Petersen swung the magnificent right—a poem in forceful motion if ever there was one—to the German’s weakest point. This blow will be talked about in Cardiff as long as the men who saw it have tongues to wag. They left the ground with their eyes still dreamy in appreciation of its perfection. It was the most wonderful thing of its kind they had ever seen. Muller collapsed as if all his bones had been suddenly torn from his body. Fie lay on one side on the canvas and then twisted over on his back, squirming, both gloves pressed to his chest. The seconds dashed water in his face and massaged him feverishly. Crash of Applause. They pulled off his gloves, they supported his head on his knees, and eventually they assisted him, staggering, to his corner. Meanwhile Petersen had barely acknowledged the crash of applause which burst like a storm from the crowd. Fie raised his hand in salute, put on his dressing gown, and walked out as if he had done nothing more than give a rather good exhibition bout. The crowd was on its feet screaming, shouting and yelling. The women were blowing kisses to Petersen, and some of them close to me had swallowed all the obvious traces of their lipstick in the delirium of the moment.. If the crowd could have got hold of Petersen they would have chaired him for a mile and would probably have rendered him incapable of further fighting. But the chief constable had made perfect arrangements for a quick escape, and while Muller was still in the ring Petersen was riding out of the gates accompanied by the chief constable in a closed car. Muller made his way to his dressing room amid the greatest sympathy and admiration for his pluck. His head was still shaky, and he looked weak. His mouth was drooping at the corners

and his tongue was clenched between his teeth. He seemed, and must have felt, an extremely sick man, and I do not think that the' sickness was all physical. Muller, indeed, looked to me to be on the verge of tears. It had all been done so quickly. He had had no real chance to vindicate himself in the eyes of this vast gathering. The gate money is estimated at between £7OOO and £BOOO. Petersen receives £ISOO and Muller £SOO.