The Studs Lonigan Trilogy - James T. Farrell [202]
“Hey, for Christ sake, I said I’d box with you, not run a foot race,” Tommy beefed, stopping, hands at side, breathing rapidly.
“I am boxing.”
“You mean you’re trying to win a track meet,” Doyle said, still winded, as he held his gloved hands up to be unlaced.
“Hey, I’ll box with you!” Studs said to Rolfe.
“That’s not my racket,” Rolfe said.
Rosensplatz and Morgan were going to box next, but Milt acceded to Studs.
Jack Morgan was an unassuming, well-built, twenty-year-old kid. He waited calmly while the gloves were laced on Studs’ hands. Studs felt good. He decided that he’d go easy with Morgan, and just show them that he wasn’t through like Doyle and Kelly, but was the old Studs Lonigan. Just let the kid know he had the gloves on with Studs Lonigan.
Morgan faced Studs with hands out in the classical boxing stance. Studs crouched low, and waved his arms in Jack Dempsey fashion. He heard encouraging words from Fat Malloy, and it made him more strongly confident. He thought of himself a little like Jack Dempsey would be when going into the ring. He circled and swayed, pulled two feints, frowned for effect, set himself to let go with a left, and was stabbed in the jaw by a left jab.
“That boy’s fast,” Fat Malloy said professionally.
Studs lumbered in, and got stung with another left jab. He feinted, swayed, and let loose with a roundhouse right. Morgan stepped back and Studs looked foolish.
“Clever boy,” Doyle said.
Studs didn’t like the way Morgan looked at him, calm, unafraid, never changing his expression. He frowned to scare him. He feinted with a left, and got another sharp left jab, and before he knew it a right cross that gave him a headache. He momentarily saw wavering black dots. He forgot trying to box like Jack Dempsey. He rushed, and hit Morgan with a solid right. They clinched, and he tried to shove Morgan around. His arms were pinned, and he got a snapping short one in the ribs. Studs rushed again, took and gave a punch, they clinched. Breaking, he got Morgan with a wild right on the side of the head, and everybody was pepped up and yelled. Morgan’s face was unchanged, and he waited, poised on his toes, left out, right cocked. Studs realized the kid could take it. No more giving him a break. He had to show some stuff, or be shown up. He rushed, and got four jabs for the punch he landed. Coming out of the clinch, he got an uppercut. Studs missed two rights, and received another stiff jab. He lost his temper, and slugged, not knowing what he was doing. Morgan slugged back punch for punch, until Rosensplatz said time was up. “How about another round, kid?” Studs said, trying to hold in his temper and appear unaffected.
He wanted more. He knew he had been outfought and out-boxed, and he had to come back. Everybody was pepped up too, but it was dark, and anyway, O’Neill had to take his gloves home. Studs shook hands with Morgan and said patronizingly that he’d been given a good workout. Morgan smiled taciturnly.
The older guys walked off. Studs was winded. His arms were leaden. His back ached. He had a headache and cuts inside his lip and jaw. He hoped they’d suggest sitting down on a bench or in the grass.
“There’s little difference in the world between sparring with gloves on and fighting with your fists. If I was using my fists and really trying, I’d have massacred that snotty little punk, O’Neill,” Red said.
Studs agreed. Hated O’Neill for having taken the gloves home. Still he felt that he couldn’t have gone another round. “The punks took you guys,” Barney said.
“So says you! You toothless, dried-up Irish bastard!” Red said with venom.
“That Morgan kid is clever. He could make a monkey out of punks like O’Neill,” Red said.
“He slugged, too,” Doyle said.
“He gave me a good workout. He’s clever. I think I’ll put the gloves on with him again. With a little coaching, he’ll be a sweet young fighter,” Studs said.
He waited for them to say he’d outpointed the kid. Well, he had, Studs thought, trying to lie to himself. One of his punches was worth six of the kid’s. Their non-committal remarks hurt him.