BOXING

New Zealand Illustrated Sporting & Dramatic Review, Issue 1322, 26 August 1915, Page 24

BOXING

BATTLING NELSON TALKS.

THE HARDEST HITTER HE EVER MET. In talking over some of his fights Battling Nelson, the “Fighting Dane” and ex-champion lightweight of the world, said recently that Aurelia Herrera had the hardest punch of any man he ever met in the ring. “Look over my record,” said the Dane. “They could all hit—Spider Welch, Martin Canole, Eddie Hanlon, Young Corbett, Terry McGovern, Joe Gans, Dick Hyland, Aurelia Herrera, Ad. Wolgast, and Owen Moran. But of all this list of knock-out artists the hardest puncher and most vicious fighter was the Mexican person, Herrera. “Herrera was a peculiar type. He would come up at you all covered up. Both hands would be leaning against his own jaws, and his elbows would be protecting his own stomach. When he was right on top of you, and you were trying to pick out a spot on which to land your own punch, he would shoot out both hands, and if either landed it was arithmetic for the referee. “Martin Canole was the best lefthanded puncher that ever lived. He landed his left on my stomach early in our fight, and I actually squealed from pain for the next two rounds. Canole never knew how close he was to beating me. Had he kept after me he might have won the fight. “Gans never hurt me to any extent. His punches were not of a hurting kind. They were the snappy, short punch of the knockout fighter. Men who have- been knocked out by him say his blows simply rocked a person to sleep, and did not leave any bad after effects. Gans was the most merciful of all fighters, and one of the finest gentlemen of the ring. “Wolgast cannot punch, but is very fast. His combined blows ultimately have the effect of a knockout, and he has wonderful stamina himself. Moran is a real puncher and a great fighter, as well as a remarkable fine little fellow.”

Not since the beginning of the war has a boxing match created such great interest throughout Australasia as did the recent middleweight battle between Eddie McGoorty, the American

boxer, and Les Darcy, the clever Australian fistic exponent. As is well known, the police stopped the contest about 20 seconds before the end of the 15th round with McGoorty on the floor, after having been down for the count of nine twice, Darcy being declared the winner. Among the many accounts to hand of the DarcyMcGoorty battle that written by Miss Cecilia Wright, the clever American journalist, who is visiting Australia with a view to writing a series of articles on the various branches of sport in the Commonwealth, is undoubtedly of special interest, the contest as viewed through woman’s eyes being decidedly original and well worthy of perusal by all followers of boxing. In giving her impressions in the Sydney “Sun,” Miss Wright refers to the much-discussed battle as follows: —At 8.30, greeted by thunderous applause, Les Darcy entered the ring, followed by a small army of seconds. His smile, that bids fair to become far famed in the near future, was in full working order. The boy fairly radiated confidence and health. Shortly afterwards Eddie McGoorty and his seconds crawled through the ropes. McGoorty was in the best of physical condition; in fact, in this respect there was nothing to choose between the two. But here the similarity between the men ceased. McGoorty’s face looked drawn and worried, and he seemed nervous. This worried look appeared to be reflected in the face of his handlers. Even Joe Bond’s ever-smiling countenance was draped in gloom. This fact struck me as most peculiar. Surely the great Eddie McGoorty, hero of a full hundred battles, should have had no cause for nervousness when facing the rising, but more or less untried, boy from Maitland. Gould it be that making the weight had drawn him too fine, or was he ill? 1 was greatly disappointed in his work throughout the match. I had never seen him fight before, but had heard a great deal about him, Mike Gibbons and many others have spoken of him in the highest terms. During my recent visit to his training camp 1 was much impressed with his work, and his gentlemanly, quiet confidence when talking to me of the match. This worriedlooking man in the ring seemed to be a different individual entirely. And

the question constantly recurred to my mind, What was wrong? The McGoorty of Saturday night would have fared badly at the hands of the great Gibbons ,and I am sure would have lost to that clever, rising young star from my home town (Preston. Lancashire), Young Ahearn. Unless there was, as everything seemed to indicate, something wrong with McGoorty, I’m afraid that it has again been my misfortune to be present at that greatest of all ring tragedies, the passing of a great fighter. This in no way detracts from the credit due to Darcy, who fought a beautiful fight, keeping on top of his man all the time; giving him no rest either at long range or in-fighting. Darcy won, as I predicted he would have to, by putting up a rushing twohanded fight; beating down all apposition, and carrying the fight to his man all the time. Young Darcy showed fine footwork. His clever way of walking in on McGoorty’s left swing quite won my heart. Darcy used his left to good advantage, putting it continually in McGoorty’s face. What impressed me most of all was Darcy’s ability to absorb punishment, not that McGoorty handed him any great amount of it. Still he landed several times with considerable force, both on the head and body. Darcy seemed not to be affected in the least by any of these blows. I would rate Darcy’s ability to absorb punishment as one of his best assets. He is a hard man to hurt, and to stop a fighter one must hurt him. McGoorty’s judgment of distance was bad; his blows lacked force and direction; his swings were wild and amateurish, and his body blows mos'ly fell short. At no time did I see any sign of his famous left hook or right cross. Granting even that Young Darcy is a world-beater, McGoorty’s showing was deplorable for a man of his standing and prestige. I liked young Darcy’s style, his willingness, his earnest attack and his winning smile, as in the clinches he looked over his opponent’s shoulder at the thousands of his wildly delighted supporters. After seeing him in the ring it is easy to understand how he has become the fistic idol of the Australian public. His smile alone would almost account for it. I am sorry that I am not to be here

to view the proposed meeting between Smiling Les Darcy and Phantom Mike Gibbons. What a match it will make! And when it occurs remember my warning—be aware of the elusive Mike. I believe him the king of them all. Darcy may beat him —if so, then great would be the name of Darcy. ❖ th # The recent announcement that Jess Willard will not box again for- a year, followed by the report that he may be seen in a ten-rounds bout before the summer is over, brings to mind the fact that Jim Jeffries, though said to dislike the ring business, was a wonder as a defender of the world’s title when he held it. No heavyweight champion staked it oftener. Within five months after defeating Fitzsimmons at Coney Island, in June, 1899, Jeff met and defeated Sharkey in twenty-Sve rounds, and six months later knocked out Jim Corbett. Then followed Hank Griffin, Joe Kennedy, and Gus Ruhlin, all in 1901, making six battles within two years. The following year Jeffries took on Fitz again, beat him this time quicker than before, and in 1903 he gave Corbett another chance, disposing of him in the tenth round. No one appeared to have a chance of beating Jeff, after tlie defeat of Corbett, until Jack Munroe, the miner, jumped into fame by staying four rounds with him. This happened in 1903, when the ex-cham-pion was on a tour guaranteeing to stop all comers. Reports of the bout actually gave Munroe the better of it, saying he had floored Jeffries, and the husky miner travelled on a big reputation until he was matched with and met the ex-boilermaker in a serious bout, on August 26, 1914. That Jeff had the miner's number was indicated by the fact that Munroe was knocked out in the second round. As a defender of his title Jeffries had it on both Fitzsimmons and Johnson. Fitz, for instance, laid off two years before he staked the title, which came to him with the defeat of Corbett at Carson City, March 17, 1897. Johnson, too, also enjoyed a long rest before he took a serious chance. Tommy Burns, by his record, doesn’t look such a shirker, but he took good care to avoid his most dangerous rival, Johnson, for many months, meeting during that time only men who had little or no chance of wresting his laurels.