My head hit the floor—whack. I saw stars. I also heard “stars”—the “pro.’s” applauding. But I was by no means “out.” I heard the timekeeper counting. “One—two—three—four”—and so on!
CARLTON AND HIS TRAINER, DAI DOLLINGS, THE FAMOUS WELSH ATHLETE, STRIPPED READY FOR HIS FIGHT WITH APOLLO
All the while I was thinking what a mug’s game it was; so far, that is to say, as I was concerned. My hands were paining me terribly; and they, I reflected, were my capital—my livelihood. I came to the conclusion then that I had done quite enough for one night for sweet charity’s sake, and that the cup might go hang for all I cared. I had no money interest in the contest personally, be it remembered. So I stayed down for the fatal ten seconds; when, of course, Apollo won.
Then the cheering burst forth, and lots of people crowded round me, slapped me on the back, tried to shake me by the hand, and told me I had put up a regular game, plucky fight against a far heavier and stronger opponent. Amongst those foremost in congratulating me was Charlie Mitchell, Apollo’s second. “By God, Carlton!” he cried; “but I’m glad it’s all over. Why, he might have killed you.”
When I went up to my dressing-room my seconds rubbed me down with embrocation, and after ten minutes’ rest or so I felt all right; but my left arm and shoulder were black and blue, and my nose didn’t properly stop bleeding for three days afterwards. This, as I pointed out to my wife at intervals after I returned home, seemed a rather unusually long time. “Yes,” replied she soothingly, “but then yours is an unusually long nose.” Which was true, but not flattering.
Women, however, I have long since discovered, are not sympathetic, except in the story books. When I reached home that same evening, for instance, not wishing to disappoint my wife I told her a fib.
“Marie,” I said, “I’ve won the fight.”
“You look it,” she said, eyeing me stonily. Then added: “Where’s the cup?”
I had forgotten for the moment all about this item in the programme, and so had to tell another fib in order to cover up the first.