Chapter 4

I had set the rematch up for two weeks after we got back from California. I had taken my training much more seriously after Ellen and I had reached our accord. Every morning that we were in California I would get up early and go run on the deserted beaches out there. On some mornings I would have company, Billy, my dad, Janos, Annie, Ellen and Lenny were all down there with me at one time or another. Twice I had money races with Billy, and twice he won. The first time it was a sprint from one lifeguard stand to the one three stands down, probably a distance of half a mile or less. It was for twenty bucks, and Billy beat me by about ten yards or so. That doesn't sound like too much of a winning margin, but he was turned around and running backwards for the final fifty feet or so. The second race was more serious, and it took place the morning before we left to go back home. I hadn't had a cigarette or an alcoholic drink for over a month. I'd been running twice a day for almost all of that time too. Billy had continued on with the drinking, smoking and not paying any attention to what he was eating. He and my father would end most evenings in each others company, long after I was asleep in my bed, smoking and drinking and telling each other stories about one exploit or another.

I had been gradually increasing the amount of distance I was running each session, and had gotten to where I was able to run for about four miles without needing to stop. I wasn't running full out, but I wasn't just jogging either. I felt good, maybe better than I had when I was only thirty years old. My stomach muscles were visible once again, and my little spare tire had completely disappeared. Ellen had even commented on the way that my pecker was getting harder, like when we were younger, and she told me that she really liked me lifting her up and taking her more forcefully. I was ready. We set the distance up for three miles and bet a hundred dollars on the outcome. There was quite a bit of side betting, and it surprised me a little that there were so many people who thought that Billy would beat me. Lenny, my father, Annie and Ellen were all betting on me. Aunt Betty, Theresa, Janos and my mother were betting on Billy. Billy wanted to postpone the race until later in the day, complaining that he had a wicked hangover, but I told him that we'd agreed on the race time three days previously. I couldn't cut him any slack when he was suffering from a self administered ailment.

I really gave that race my all. I figured that with my better wind, plus my longer legs, and better all around conditioning, it was almost a certainty that I'd win. It was really close this time, no more than two feet at the wire, but Billy still beat me all the same. I was discouraged, maybe even to the point of thinking about giving up on going back up there to New Haven. What kept me going ahead with it was the fact that I could feel how much stronger and better I felt. Even if my new strength, and all my feelings of well being didn't transfer into beating Billy in a damn foot race. When we were all on the plane heading home, the family let me in on their little practical joke. Billy had been out running for the past six months with Little Billy, who was trying to get into good enough shape to get on with the fire department over in New London. They had been running five and six miles every day. My father told me that when I went to bed every evening, Billy would wait for Ellen's signal that I was out and then he'd hit the rack too. When I found out that Billy had been drinking "shots" of iced tea with my father every night, I began to understand how much effort had gone into Billy's little joke. When I asked Billy if he was joking about the bets too, he laughed and told me how much he treasured every penny he'd ever taken me for over the years. It was quite a few pennies too. Billy was good at almost everything we bet on. If he wasn't good at it, he didn't bet me. Not a bad system, and it had certainly done well for him over time.

After the date for the fight had been set up, I went over to New London and worked out in a boxing gym with a man who'd been a professional boxer and trainer up in Boston for over forty years. He had worked in Marciano's camp, not as a trainer, but as a sparring partner. After listening to what it was that I was trying to do, and putting me through a short workout with another fighter, he decided that the best use of our time together would be to work on making me quicker on my feet, and in improving my lateral movement. He did some work on my punching too, shortening the length of my punches, and adding some twisting of my wrists right at the point of impact. He also taught me to follow through better with my punches. We worked on a lot of side to side drills, and on having me use more and smaller steps to become more efficient with my movement. He told me a hundred times that speed was a natural gift, but quickness was a learned trait. The day before I was going to head back up to New Haven, the two of us sat together for four hours while he told me all of the little things that I'd need to look out for in order to anticipate faster what Georgie was planning on doing.

"Jackie, I've heard of this Sailor T. He's been around for a long time. I even know some of the guys he's fought. I think you've got a good shot as long as you keep your head and move like I've taught you. The secret to beating this guy is to never let him hit you. He has a hell of a punch. Any guy who can knock you out on your feet with one punch, he can bang pretty good. In a ring, I'd love your chances against him. Outside of a ring, his bad knee won't be such a liability. I would try to just put the knees out of my mind and concentrate on his head and body. He'll be expecting you to go after his knees. It's always good to give your opponent what he doesn't expect. Keep your hands up high but forget that peek a boo bullshit. Use an orthodox south paw stance, with your right foot forward. Forget your jab, it isn't anything more than an annoyance anyway, the way you throw it, and it leaves you open to a quick counter left hand. Your left hand is your anvil, but you need to get inside to really use it to best effect. Remember to turn your body into every punch. An arm punch is nothing, get the whole body into it. Be relaxed and take deep breaths. If you hurt him, finish him quick. Swarm him, but do it smart. Make the punches all count for something, don't just swing without a purpose."

I thanked him for all his hard work with me, and then I paid him what we'd agreed on, with a twenty five per cent bonus thrown in. I felt like I had learned a lot from him, and I thought that I was definitely quicker because of what he'd taught me. I knew that I was as ready as I could be. When he and I had finished up, I cleaned my stuff out of the locker I'd been renting, and turned my keys back in at the desk.

I drove over to see my father. I had decided that it would just be he and I up in New Haven. I no longer felt like I needed to prove myself to Billy or Ray or anyone else who'd watched me that first time. Somehow, this had turned into something that I was doing just for myself. I wanted to give it my best shot against Georgie. It wasn't about the money or my precious ego anymore. I wanted to see for myself if my best would be good enough. My father and I sat around out in Ray's back yard on some fancy lawn furniture that Ray had gotten made for himself.

"So what do you think Yutch? Can you take him now?"

"I can if I can keep him from hitting me."

"Well, I guess that's as good of a fight plan as any. That won't be easy though. People get hit in fights, everytime, if they're in against people that know what they're doing. He knows what he's doing. Do you have a good fall back position in case you do get hit?"

"Pop, I've spent almost all of my time and energy on getting into decent shape. I'm quicker on my feet now, and I can punch straighter and shorter. I turn my wrists when I hit something, and I keep punching through what I hit. I have no idea whether any of that will help at all. What I'm really counting on is something that you said to me right after the first time. I can't say that I feel like I need to win tomorrow. That isn't how I feel. I want to win, and, mostly, I want him to know that I came up there this time with some serious intentions of kicking his ass. Last time, he toyed with me a little at the start, like he didn't take me seriously, you know? I'm almost twenty years younger than him, bigger, stronger and I move a lot better. On paper I should be able to bounce him on his ass easily."

"Yutch, that's the thing. It isn't what's on the paper. That guy doesn't believe he can lose. Nothing in the past forty years has ever shaken that belief of his. You'll never beat him until you show him that defeat is a real possibility. If you go up there thinking that you don't need to beat him, you won't, I guarantee you that you won't."

"Pop, I'd settle for getting him to realize that defeat is a real possibility. I still think that if I can get in one really clean shot on him, he'll be done. When we leave there tomorrow, I don't want to have any regrets about what I brought up to the fight with me. I can't control what he brings, but I think I've done my best to get myself ready to bring him my best. If he beats my best, I guess I can live with it. It probably wouldn't bother me anymore than losing that last race to Billy."

"Well, if it's any consolation to you, I can tell you that it took everything Billy had to whip you in that last race. He told me that he's done racing you for money too. He said he knows a whole lot of easier ways to make a hundred dollars. You get a good night's rest tonight. Don't go playing any hide the salami with Ellen either. I'll be by to get you around nine thirty, so you be ready when I get there. Go say hello to your mother before you leave here. She's always worried before something like this. You just tell her that you feel ready." I went up to say hello to my mother and she asked me to call it off. She told me that she had a bad feeling about it. I told her I felt really good, and as strong as the day I had knocked pop out.

"Jackie, that man isn't your father. He's not going to just stand there and let you hit him like your father did. I really wish you'd just call it off."

"Believe what you want to ma. I believe I whipped him and that's what counts. If I could beat pop, I can sure beat this guy. All I need is to get in the first good shot."

We were pretty quiet on the drive up to New Haven. I didn't feel nervous or anything. I'd had a fair night's rest, not as much sleep as I'd have liked, but I was in bed, resting my eyes for at least nine hours. Ellen and I had talked a little. She seemed happy that I didn't want the whole gang showing up to watch the fight. When she kissed me goodbye at our front door, she told me that she had a good feeling, and that everything would turn out good for me. I was happy when we got to New Haven and stopped at a different restaurant for a small pasta salad and a cream soda for me and a couple of beers for my dad.

"Yutch, I spoke with your mother and she told me what the two of you had talked about. She's got it all wrong about that time that we danced over in New London. You just got off a quicker first shot on me. I probably should have admitted it at the time, but it was hard for me to do then. I wasn't used to coming out on the short end from a fight. If you can get in the same kind of punch on this guy, he'll go down just like I did. Try not to let him fall down until you hit him as many times as you can though. A minute is a long time to get your bearings back. You give it your best, it's probably going to be enough."

We walked into the bar about twenty minutes before the agreed upon time. Reggie had a big smile on his face and we went through the same rituals with the money, except this time my father did the honors. After everyone was satisfied about the money, we all went out back again. Just the same as the last time, Reggie sent a guy to go fetch Georgie.

"You know Jackie, I really have to admire the fact that you came back for another try. Especially since that first go was a little one sided. You look fitter this time, have you been in training?"

"Mr. Turner, I came back this time to do what I should have done the last time. Georgie's too old to be out here doing this. Today I'm going to retire him for you."

"Well, I can't say that I'm expecting that result my boy, but you're certainly welcome to make your best attempt at it. It takes a lot of guts to come up here the second time, especially after you've had a taste of what Georgie can do."

We went through all the prefight rigamarole, just like the time before, and then Reggie told us to get at it. Again, I moved out to the center of the circle, just like before. I had my hands up, but I took the trainer's advice and stayed in an orthodox stance. Georgie was moving carefully forward, that same little smile on his lips. I started circling to my left very slowly, taking smaller steps and watching his eyes and his neck. There was no way that he could let a real punch go without first tightening his neck muscles. I didn't jab, but I did feint punches with both of my hands. We had been circling for more than a minute, neither one of us throwing any punches. I could sense a stirring in the crowd, as they realized that this would be a far different tactical fight than the last one. As we circled, I noticed a tensing in his neck and a slight tightening of his eyelids. I knew that he was going to attempt something, and I was trying to stay focussed and alert for whatever it was. That's when he kicked me.