believe what he was hearing. “Barney, you’re in no shape to fight. You’re thin, don’t have the muscles. You’d get killed if you stepped inside a ring.”
“Sure, Benny, I know that,” Barney said. “But I can get in shape. Just give me a chance. I’ve got some money, so all I ask is that you train me until you think I’m ready.”
Benny chewed on the cigar, debating, then made a quick decision. “Look, Barney, you took it on the chin bad in Sing Sing, I hear. Some don’t never come back from that. There’s lots of guys in the fighting game walkin’ around on their heels, listenin’ to things nobody else hears. I wouldn’t want that to happen to you.”
“Just give me a chance,” Barney pleaded.
Benny threw the cigar on the floor and nodded. “I’ll give you this: You come to the gym for a few weeks. Do what I tell you. Then we’ll see.”
“Thanks, Benny!”
“No promises!” Meyers warned. “You don’t fight until I say so.”
Barney replied eagerly, “You’re the boss, Benny!”
With joy in his step, Barney left to buy his gear, convinced that he could fight again.
****
“You gonna take the kid on, Benny?” A man named Maxie Plummer had overheard Barney’s request to Meyers.
“Thinkin’ about it.”
“Better not waste your time,” Plummer advised. “A good fighter—he’s like a fine watch. One thing goes wrong and it never runs right again. Don’t think the kid can come back.”
“You may be right, but I’ll give him a chance.”
****
The next morning Barney arrived early at the gym and began his workout. It didn’t take long before both trainer and fighter discovered Barney was not the boxer he had once been.
“Your timing is off, your punches ain’t got no snap. You’re underweight by at least ten pounds,” Benny complained. “If I was you, Barney, I’d find a good job.”
“You just give me a month, Benny. You’ll see.”
Day after day he came in early and stayed late. He worked harder than any fighter Meyers had ever seen, and three weeks later he was getting back his old skills. Meyers commented on it one afternoon. Barney was punching the light bag, making it rattle with a precision that sounded like a drum.
“Better call it a day, kid,” Benny said. Then he laughed. “Never thought I’d see the day when I’d have to tell a fighter to stop training. You’ve done good, Barney.”
“Good enough for a fight?”
“Maybe in two weeks or so.”
Benny would say no more, so Barney left and decided to celebrate. He had been off liquor since his arrest. That night,though, elated over his progress, he had a few drinks with another fighter—a middle weight named Joe Maddox. They had trained together, and upon meeting went for the bars just like old times. By ten o’clock they were more than a little high.
“I’ve had enough, Joe,” Barney said.
“Aw, we’re celebrating, Barney!”
“You can celebrate without me. I’m going home and get some sleep.”
He made his way toward the boardinghouse. On both sides of the streets, the bars and gambling joints were doing a roaring business. He stopped mid-stride when he heard his name called.
“Barney! Barney Winslow!”
A man rushed up and grabbed Barney in a big embrace. He tried to shake him off, not sure what he wanted. Then he heard a voice from the past.
“It’s me, dear boy! Awful Gardner!”
Barney couldn’t believe his eyes. Sure enough, it was Awful! He looked much the same as he had in prison—tall, thin-faced with gray eyes and a full head of black hair.
“Awful!” Barney cried. “It’s you!”
“Indeed, it is!” Gardner slapped him on his shoulders, saying, “How good it is to see you!”
“It’s wonderful to see you, Awful,” Barney said. Then his smile faded as a memory flashed into his mind. “Better than the last time we met in Sing Sing.”
“ ’Course ’tis better,” Gardner insisted. “Now, let’s go where we can talk. Me place is right around
“Sure, Benny, I know that,” Barney said. “But I can get in shape. Just give me a chance. I’ve got some money, so all I ask is that you train me until you think I’m ready.”
Benny chewed on the cigar, debating, then made a quick decision. “Look, Barney, you took it on the chin bad in Sing Sing, I hear. Some don’t never come back from that. There’s lots of guys in the fighting game walkin’ around on their heels, listenin’ to things nobody else hears. I wouldn’t want that to happen to you.”
“Just give me a chance,” Barney pleaded.
Benny threw the cigar on the floor and nodded. “I’ll give you this: You come to the gym for a few weeks. Do what I tell you. Then we’ll see.”
“Thanks, Benny!”
“No promises!” Meyers warned. “You don’t fight until I say so.”
Barney replied eagerly, “You’re the boss, Benny!”
With joy in his step, Barney left to buy his gear, convinced that he could fight again.
****
“You gonna take the kid on, Benny?” A man named Maxie Plummer had overheard Barney’s request to Meyers.
“Thinkin’ about it.”
“Better not waste your time,” Plummer advised. “A good fighter—he’s like a fine watch. One thing goes wrong and it never runs right again. Don’t think the kid can come back.”
“You may be right, but I’ll give him a chance.”
****
The next morning Barney arrived early at the gym and began his workout. It didn’t take long before both trainer and fighter discovered Barney was not the boxer he had once been.
“Your timing is off, your punches ain’t got no snap. You’re underweight by at least ten pounds,” Benny complained. “If I was you, Barney, I’d find a good job.”
“You just give me a month, Benny. You’ll see.”
Day after day he came in early and stayed late. He worked harder than any fighter Meyers had ever seen, and three weeks later he was getting back his old skills. Meyers commented on it one afternoon. Barney was punching the light bag, making it rattle with a precision that sounded like a drum.
“Better call it a day, kid,” Benny said. Then he laughed. “Never thought I’d see the day when I’d have to tell a fighter to stop training. You’ve done good, Barney.”
“Good enough for a fight?”
“Maybe in two weeks or so.”
Benny would say no more, so Barney left and decided to celebrate. He had been off liquor since his arrest. That night,though, elated over his progress, he had a few drinks with another fighter—a middle weight named Joe Maddox. They had trained together, and upon meeting went for the bars just like old times. By ten o’clock they were more than a little high.
“I’ve had enough, Joe,” Barney said.
“Aw, we’re celebrating, Barney!”
“You can celebrate without me. I’m going home and get some sleep.”
He made his way toward the boardinghouse. On both sides of the streets, the bars and gambling joints were doing a roaring business. He stopped mid-stride when he heard his name called.
“Barney! Barney Winslow!”
A man rushed up and grabbed Barney in a big embrace. He tried to shake him off, not sure what he wanted. Then he heard a voice from the past.
“It’s me, dear boy! Awful Gardner!”
Barney couldn’t believe his eyes. Sure enough, it was Awful! He looked much the same as he had in prison—tall, thin-faced with gray eyes and a full head of black hair.
“Awful!” Barney cried. “It’s you!”
“Indeed, it is!” Gardner slapped him on his shoulders, saying, “How good it is to see you!”
“It’s wonderful to see you, Awful,” Barney said. Then his smile faded as a memory flashed into his mind. “Better than the last time we met in Sing Sing.”
“ ’Course ’tis better,” Gardner insisted. “Now, let’s go where we can talk. Me place is right around
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