He was that rarest of rare birds, a people-watcher’s version of the condor: Pugilisticum luciditas. Focus was what I feared I’d lost on the job. He couldn’t take a punch. Before TV came along, I ventured, most fighters were faceless names in the dark, so it might have been easy, and it might have been highly profitable, to promote look-alike fighters in out-of-the-way places. 21. Where to vote. My reprieve from the dirtiness of everyday journalism had turned into a reaffirmation of everything I loathed and feared. He patted his pockets, nothing. He knew Doc Kearns. I led him over to some bleachers in a nearby baseball field. When the tape arrived the next morning, I cradled it like a newborn to the nearest VCR. Boxing’s Humpty-Dumpty. “Would you care for some?” he asked, and I couldn’t decide which was more touching, his largess or his mannerly diction. “I was over there all morning, but she won’t let that book out of her house.”, “I looked through the book myself, though,” he says, lighting a cigarette, “and I don’t think it has what you want. He makes a conscious choice and decides to inform his editors about the profile error. “Sparring with the bags, skipping rope. Photographers with flashes the size of satellite dishes shoot the covers of tomorrow’s sports pages. “Yeah, Bob Satterfield,” he said. I phoned The Ring and asked Mainwaring to check his records for a heavyweight named Tommy Harrison. “He’s one of the hardest hitters I’ve ever seen.”. But if you say you is Tommy Harrison, and like that, you only get a medium-size crowd.’ ”. “He’s hurt bad,” Marciano says, as Satterfield stands and signals the referee that he’s ready for another dose. We drive to Lip’s father’s house, where a candy-apple red Cadillac the size of a fire engine sits outside, license plate “BIG GEO.” Lip takes a deep breath, then knocks. He’s homeless and he has a very bad record, and he’s been molesting children and he’s using Pop’s name. Champ’s manager had been dead 20 years. He was all mine. “There but for the grace of God go I,” he said. Standing. Though most of these narrative facets provide interesting fodder, none are satisfactorily developed creating a hodgepodge effect. Lastly, I outlined Champ’s criminal past. Like a favorite movie, the one-reel “Satterfield Versus Layne” says something different every time I watch, each punch a line of multilayered dialogue. Satterfield Jr. is later appeased with a proposal by Kernan to write another article retracting his mistake; and to include personal journalistic material about the elder Satterfield which he long wanted someone to articulate about. Juni 1997 erschienen ist. At last he swallowed and said, “Bob Satterfield was one of the hardest punchers who ever lived.”. The three of us stand together, silently, as though saying a prayer for Champ. He was a boxer, too, although he didn’t go as far as Uncle Tommy.”. See how he was faring. Because he recalled the specter of my father and his equally enigmatic cop-out, Champ might have revived that early talent I showed for self-deception. We’d been through this. Like Layne--like Champ--I want to reach out to Satterfield, to show my admiration. For months he rode the rails as a hobo, then joined the Army. To the right seems to be the living room, though it’s impossible to tell because all the lights are off. When someone finally answered, Terrell asked to speak with D.D. To distract myself from this uneasy vigil--and from the phone that never rings, and from the icy rain that never stops pelting the window--I light a cigar and open a 40-year-old newspaper. Each time I tried, he swatted me around my subconscious. “Did you know [Champ] to be a professional prize fighter?” a prosecutor asked the aunt during a hearing. She stopped herself and went to the window, struggling to keep her composure. Establishing Champ’s credibility was one thing. “Champ,” I said, “when you pretended to be Bob Satterfield, weren’t you afraid the other Bob Satterfield would find out?”, Without hesitating, he put a hand to his chin and said, “I always figured the other Bob Satterfield knew about me. “Battlin’ Bob Satterfield. Your guide to the 2020 election in California. . That’s the only woman I ever loved.”. He told me about his father’s ancestry, back, back, back, and I understood the desperation seeping into his voice, a desperation that made him stammer badly. As voters prepare to vote on a rent control ballot measure, supporters and opponents are both pointing to the coronavirus as a reason to pass or reject Prop. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this.”. Just a toothless boxer with a glass chin and a pigeon feather in his hat. In the background, I heard speed bags being thrummed and ropes being skipped, a sound like cicadas on a summer day. We drive to a beloved old gym that former champion Buster Douglas helped rebuild after knocking down Mike Tyson. Finishing his lunch, Champ wrapped the leftovers in a napkin and carefully stowed them in a secret compartment of his grocery cart. He knocked out seven of his first 12 opponents in the first round, a terrifying boxing blitzkrieg. I thank him for meeting me, but he whips off his sunglasses and stares. Der aufstrebende Sportreporter rettet einen Obdachlosen (Champ), nur um zu erfahren, dass er in Wahrheit eine Boxlegende ist, von dem jeder denkt, dass er verstorben sei.

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