19 and 20.—Parsons closed and bored his man to the ropes, where Paddock fell.
21.—Parsons at the scratch, game, but it was no go. Paddock again shot out his left on the dial, and made an upper cut with his right. Parsons closed, a struggle for the throw, and both fell, Paddock under.
22.—Parsons first at the scratch, with his left eye nearly closed and bleeding freely. (Cries of “Take him away.”) Parsons closed, both hitting away; at last Paddock got down.
23rd and last.—Paddock went to his man, hit out left and right, and caught Parsons a tremendous smack over the left eye; it was a stunner. A close followed, Paddock getting his right arm round Parsons’s neck, hitting up with severity; the punishment was severe. Both men struggled, and fell together. Parsons was taken to his corner in an exhausted condition. His seconds, perceiving it was useless to prolong the contest, threw up the sponge, and Paddock was hailed as the winner. The fight lasted twenty-two minutes. Another instance of the folly of backing an Ould’un against Young’un.
Remarks.—This was, certainly, a promising début; for though “Old Elijah” was too stale to contend with such an impetuous, hard-hitting, and resolute youngster as the “Redditch needle-grinder,” he certainly tested the Young’un’s game, who showed he was “all there,” if he did not possess the higher attainments of a scientific boxer.
As a proof that the Brums at this time kept the game alive, we may mention that another pair, Blackman and Chadwick, not choosing to lose time, actually made an extempore ring, and got off a hard fight of forty-three rounds in fifty-six minutes, in which Blackman was the victor, while Shakespeare and Jenkins, and Paddock and Parsons were settling their differences. Of course as, unlike Sir Boyle Roche’s bird, we could not be in two places at once, we saw nothing of this; but we did see the fourth fight, between Frazer Brown, of Walsall, who fought George Giles, a West Bromwich youth, for a purse, which, after an hour’s hard work, to the damage of both, but with no advantage to either, was divided, and so ended a full day’s sport.
In the month of September, 1844, a fine, fresh young fellow, aged 22, standing 6 feet, and weighing 12st. 6lbs., came up to London, and displayed such capabilities with the mittens that Johnny Broome at once “spotted” him for a competitor for the yet-untried Bob Caunt, younger brother to the Champion, Ben, who was just then being “trotted out” by the St. Martin’s Lane coterie. The new-comer, whose pals had denominated him, on account of his smartness and good looks, “Nobby” Clarke, was articled with “brother Bob” for £25 a side, and on the 22nd of October, 1844, he gave his opponent such a skilful thrashing in seven rounds, occupying the brief space of a quarter of an hour, that his friends, too hastily judging from this very short spin, announced the “Nobby One” as ready for any 12st. man for £50. Our hero, who was on the look-out for active service, replied to the challenge, and on the 27th of January, 1846, they met at Coleshill Castle, near West Bromwich; the battle exciting great interest in Birmingham and the Midlands. “Nobby” Clarke was seconded by the Tipton Slasher and Tass Parker; Tom Paddock by Hodgkiss and Sam Hurst. Clarke was in splendid condition, and in looks fully justified the 6 and 7 to 4 laid on him by the Brums. At a few minutes after eleven, the men stood up and began
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Clarke, who was a model of symmetry, had a noticeable superiority in length and reach over the round and ruddy Redditch man, who, however, not only seemed undismayed, but lost no time in sparring, and rattled in right and left. The “Nobby One” stopped him neatly and retreated; then let go his left at Paddock’s head, but did not seem to leave a mark. Paddock bored in, but Clarke caught him in his arms, and both were down, Paddock under.
2.—Clarke sparred and broke ground; as Paddock came on, hitting out viciously, Clarke caught him an ugly crack on the cheek-bone, and also one in the mouth. (“First blood” for Clarke.) Paddock would not be denied, and there were some ding-dong exchanges, in which Paddock got in a smasher on Clarke’s eyebrow, making a cut, which balanced the account; in the embrace which followed Paddock was undermost.