(*First published in 1956 by The Viking Press from collected The New Yorker writings. I am reading from a 2004 edition by North Point Press. SPOILERS AHEAD?)
NEW CHAMP
"As for Walcott, I can't even remember seeing him leave."
Rocky Marciano, the Broken Fighter of the previous installment's mention, is now a year on from when it was said he'd be ready in a year from. Therefore, the fight is on for the crude, bullish, and at first seemingly less made-to-sound imminent M against Jersey Joe Walcott for the heavyweight title on December 23, 1952 in Philly.
Liebling plays at man-in-the-know via visiting Marciano's camp and we learn a bit about the not-complex relationship between Marciano, Goldman, and Weill. A bit of backstory is supplied through the father of the Brockton Blockbuster--Mr. Pietro Marchegiano--a nice morsel of trivia; the name changed for the purpose of broadcasting ease. What the remainder consists mainly of is ringside coverage of the bout courtesy of Liebling. Replete with two instances of his favored live viewing being visually obscured.
But it is not dry reporting; much more colorful chronicling. For this, some neat characters and dialog are employed. Through this method, Leibling shines at 'putting you there.' All this, to be clear, with nothing that diminishes his obvious pugilistic intelligence once shifting to cover blow-by-blow duties. He uses Pierce Egan to critique Walcott's faulty tact of "milling in retreat." He tells you when it appears Marciano may be coming apart, "He wavered and almost pawed the air." On a winding, hilly road of a bout, Liebling takes the curves and shifting horizon expertly-so. "He fought four rounds where he couldn't see the guy," claims Weill, which L calls hyperbole. (A possible capsicum event.)
It ended for Walcott in the 13th stanza via the same punch that Marciano's squad earlier said deemed not worthwhile teaching their man: a short 'across the chest' right hand. So then, a failed look at his favored in-person way of viewing a prizefight, coupled with some fishy insider info, and still Leibling stands tall as I begin to believe only he can--as boxing scribe par excellence... a vessel of vicariousness.
LONG TODDLE, SHORT FIGHT
"Out here in a hick town like Chicago, I guess anything can happen."
The above pull of tantalizingly derogatory text shall be explained in a paragraph or two. Before that, a 'toddler' is a pedestrian. In this context, a spectator who hoofs it to the fight. Well, in this text, really, it's Leibling getting to the Second City for the Marciano-Walcott rematch. In the first stab at context, it's a term Pierce Egan employed as such, and much of this essay stars Egan to the extent of why not just read Egan? Although I suppose one could also just as easily say 'why not just read Liebling instead of you, Kap?'
Well played, you.
My dad once missed a first-round Mike Tyson KO while hurriedly making a pre-fight sandwich. Here, L shares a couple of similar histories including someone lighting a cigar while missing Bob Fitzsimmons adding to his resume. Also, there is the guy who missed a Georges Carpentier flash finish while making certain he had the right seat. This is all done to foreshadow the bout at hand. First, we toddle to the weigh-in in order for L to buy a ticket. Of note, we get a good look at his take on cuisine and a quicker look at the ponies--a pair of the author's other keen interests.
'The Kentucky Derby this year lasted two minutes and two seconds, and nobody cried, "Stop thief!" But fight fans are accustomed to more protracted pleasures." That night in Chicago, however, they felt robbed when Marciano dispatched Walcott in scant few seconds more. The left hook was just icing on the cake of a right to the jaw, "but I couldn't see it land from where I sat." Liebling continues to do a terrible job at advocating for his own thought of watching fights in-person as supreme. It was the film that told the tale.
My guess is that whether an insider or a fan--as a writer foremost, it's the ambiance that tickled him so. "I like going to fights." There are the usual excellent turns of phrase, but predominantly, I wished here to more clearly hear Liebling apart from the clattering-chattering ghost of Egan.
CHARLES I & II
"This was the Indian summer of Charles's fight." (or) "Rocky never gives you the ball." You can't really go wrong with either one you choose as a pulled-from-the-text subheader to this portion, handled here as one portion--made up of both I & II.
The stage is set in mimicry of a stage set prior and by, of course, Egan. A painting of a fight from his time and coverage of a bout twixt Tom Cribb and Tom Molineaux by another T(h)om(as), Rowlandson. That fight occurred in 1881, the first Ezzard Charles-Rocky Marciano fight happened on June 17, 1954 at Yankee Stadium. My dad, 14 at that time, purchased an Ezzard Charles machine-signed black and white photo card on the Coney Island boardwalk from a coin machine. I still have it somewhere.
Nevertheless, the combatants are linked through time by Liebling and also as he does, he links himself again to Pierce Egan--lest we somehow (I can't imagine how) forget. This section takes on the most sarcastic tone of the lot thus far and by a lot. Spoiler alert: Cribb and Marciano both find victory. More precisely, they are linked through time by the 'desolate' face of a cornerman in the losing corner. This, apart from its sarcasm, offers also a heightened sense of emotion within participants, although it is somewhat fogged by analysis and sarcasm.
I'll not dwell on the matches much themselves but I will share this, "The hardiest frame could not resist the blows of the champion; and it is astonishing the moor stood them so long." That of course from Egan and tossed by Liebling into the then present-day bout. It strikes me somewhat as if Liebling is to Egan as Christopher Morely is to Arthur Conan Doyle (Sherlock Holmes). One might debate as to who found the most success (I can't imagine how). But back to the task at hand--it was not Charles in either I or II.
In II, we meet Dr. Moreno, a psychologist who does what psychologists do and applies labels until all individuality is woefully gone from a person. He then goes on to take those labels and precisely predicts the outcome of the second fight, so there's that. Aside from that analysis, there is also an anatomist who tries his trade at the thing but gets much less coverage here. Perhaps his prediction didn't pan out. It's within the words of Moreno, or the use of those words by Liebling, where we find the sarcasm fodder of previous note.
Of a recurring note, guess who has a bad seat again in the rematch? That's right, Liebling. I'm beginning to wonder if this bit was sarcasm all along. Pardon my slowness. Oh, I should go as far as to say that the first fight went the distance and the second (three months later and also at Yankee Stadium) went eight. Again and of course, again, with Marciano getting both. Of note, this was peak M and somewhat less than Charles, although only three years separated the two pugs (30 and 33, respectively).
Anyways, all pseudo-babble analyzing by Moreno aside, we are wrapped up by Brown, Marciano's cutman: "It is very hard to think when you are getting your brains knocked out." Let's link this sentiment to more current times, shall we? "Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth." - Mike Tyson. You can't really go wrong with either one you choose. A final note from outside of the text (Wikipedia, Rocky Marciano vs. Ezzard Charles) to do with Freddie Brown: he ranked the cut over M's left eye in the first fight as the worst he'd seen.
Also, he later served as Roberto Duran's cutman, so--you know--stitching strings of time together.
Previously: Book Review: The Steet Science by AJ Liebling Pt 3 (The Melting Middleweight)
Next: Book Review: The Sweet Science by AJ Liebling Pt 5 (Other Fronts)
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