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The Big Scoop
- Thread starter Barbaria1
- Start date
Bets?
Livelihoods, you mean.... we shall watch with interest - and you'd bloody well better win!
No pressure, then, Barb!
Anything goes ... this is the mafia staging this event
8. At half-past midnight the main salon of the Gentlemen's Athletic Club was jam packed ... standing room only. A cloud of tobacco smoke drifted lazily over the brightly illuminated raised boxing ring, and the clamor of hundreds of raucously excited voices filled the air.
I sat nervously on a stool in one corner of the ring, shrouded in a hooded robe that shielded me from any close scrutiny by the assembled crowd. Zamboni was taking care that no one recognize me until after all bets had been placed. After all, some may have seen me here as a "hostess" just two nights earlier, including my former employer, the Don, and the ever watchful Alphonso.
Under my hooded robe I wore a pair of blue boxing shorts that were a size too big for me (a cause for some concern) and a white tee shirt. My hair was tied back at the neck. Bruno's instructions swirled in my head as I observed my opponent warming up over at the far corner of the ring.
Her name was Katrina. I think she was Swedish. She was athletic and built like an ox, with tree stumps for arms and legs. She was also a good foot taller than me, and looked as though she might weigh nearly twice as much.
The crowd hushed as the referee stepped into the ring. He signaled Katrina and me to join him, and when we had done so he made us shake gloved hands and instructed us to listen as he laid down the rules in a voice loud enough for everyone in the crowded salon to hear as well.
"You girls will come out fighting when you hear the gong. You will fight topless. Each round will last three minutes, with a one minute break before the next round begins. You will fight until there is a knockout ... that is until one of you goes down for a count of 10. Now return to your corners and wait for the gong.
I returned to my corner. The stool was gone. Bruno was there to help me out of my robe and to pull my tee shirt off over my head to a chorus of wolf whistles and shouts as my breasts bounced free. He put his arms around me and, in a fatherly way, reminded me to fight as he had shown me.
Off to one side, I could hear Alphonso shouting, "it's her! It's that newspaper reporter. She's no fighter! This is a set up! I want to change my bet!" His complaint was quickly followed by the thunderous voice of Carlo Zamboni, telling him to sit down and shut up ... that the bets had already been placed.
Then the gong rang and the first round was on. Katrina strode out toward the center of the ring, a look of smug confidence spreading across her face as she sized me up. Halfway to the center she paused to do a little fancy footwork and throw a few practice jabs into the air.
I decided on the spot to forget all Bruno's instructions and do it my way. I took off like a shot, rocketing across the ring so fast that I took her completely by surprise. Coming in low I head-butted her right in the stomach and sent her sprawling to the mat, a look of sheer surprise on her face.
The crowd roared and above the din I could hear Bruno shouting, "What the fuck was that!" I turned and grinned at him. He waved his arms frantically at me. I turned back just in time to duck under a viscous roundhouse blow launched by my enraged opponent.
Now I settled into doing what Bruno had taught me. I kept moving, dancing about, keeping my elbows tucked in and my gloves raised to protect my body and face. Nonetheless her size and power drove me back. She jabbed at me furiously, catching me on the side of the face, landing a painful one on my left breast.
Then I felt the ropes at my back. She had me cornered. For the next minute and a half she punished me, pounding away, bloodying my nose. My defenses went down and she beat me mercilessly as I hung on the ropes. And as the gong sounded, ending the first round, she kneed me in the crotch for good measure. I fell to my hands and knees as she walked away and Bruno had to rush over to get me up and help me back to my corner.
During the break I slumped on my stool as Bruno worked to staunch my nosebleed and mop the glistening sweat from my body. He gave me water to drink, and yelled exhortations in my ear, "Don't let her get you with her long right! If you can't keep your distance, get in close so she doesn't have room to swing."
Then the gong sounded. And I stumbled forward for round two. The crowd was on its feet. The roar was deafening. I circled around her, keeping my distance, but she cornered me and drove me back towards the ropes again. I dodged under her right at the last second and got away. Then I closed in, literally hugging her while she pounded me in the back.
The ref broke that up, blowing his whistle and forcing us apart. And then it happened. She landed a good one in my gut and I doubled over, giving her the opening she wanted. She belted me hard on my dangling right breast with her left and then clouted me in my left eye with an uppercut right.
I went down flat on my back, holding my gloves to my head. She knelt over me, about to slug me again, but the ref waved her off and began counting "1 ... 2 ... 3 ... 4. ... 5". Each time he slapped the mat with his hand. On 6 I rolled over on my side. On 7 I got up on hands and knees. On 8 I began to get to my feet. He stopped counting on 9.
I was up but unsteady and defenseless. My arms hung at my sides. I squinted at her out of my right eye, the left one having swollen shut, as she circled and taunted me. I staggered about in a half circle trying to track her. My shorts decided at that moment to slip off my hips and fell down to my knees. The crowd went wild over my nakedness.
She reached out and placed a glove on top of my head to steady me. I took a half-hearted totally ineffectual swing at her, and then another. She laughed, then drove her left into my unprotected midriff, knocking the wind from me, and then sent me down with a hard right to the head.
I spun and landed, side of my head on the mat, but legs tucked under me, bare ass high in the air just as the gong sounded. There would be no count. I had survived, more or less, two full rounds of punishment. Bruno came out to drag me back to my corner.
Perched on my stool again, shorts restored to their proper place, I gasped for air as Bruno worked over my sweat-sheened body. "Hang in there Moore," he shouted in my ear, "Remember Zamboni's promise to you. Last one more round before she knocks you out and you've earned your freedom. Don't forget about that Pulitzer you told me you wanted to win! You can do it Moore! Just one more round!"
TO BE CONTINUED
I sat nervously on a stool in one corner of the ring, shrouded in a hooded robe that shielded me from any close scrutiny by the assembled crowd. Zamboni was taking care that no one recognize me until after all bets had been placed. After all, some may have seen me here as a "hostess" just two nights earlier, including my former employer, the Don, and the ever watchful Alphonso.
Under my hooded robe I wore a pair of blue boxing shorts that were a size too big for me (a cause for some concern) and a white tee shirt. My hair was tied back at the neck. Bruno's instructions swirled in my head as I observed my opponent warming up over at the far corner of the ring.
Her name was Katrina. I think she was Swedish. She was athletic and built like an ox, with tree stumps for arms and legs. She was also a good foot taller than me, and looked as though she might weigh nearly twice as much.
The crowd hushed as the referee stepped into the ring. He signaled Katrina and me to join him, and when we had done so he made us shake gloved hands and instructed us to listen as he laid down the rules in a voice loud enough for everyone in the crowded salon to hear as well.
"You girls will come out fighting when you hear the gong. You will fight topless. Each round will last three minutes, with a one minute break before the next round begins. You will fight until there is a knockout ... that is until one of you goes down for a count of 10. Now return to your corners and wait for the gong.
I returned to my corner. The stool was gone. Bruno was there to help me out of my robe and to pull my tee shirt off over my head to a chorus of wolf whistles and shouts as my breasts bounced free. He put his arms around me and, in a fatherly way, reminded me to fight as he had shown me.
Off to one side, I could hear Alphonso shouting, "it's her! It's that newspaper reporter. She's no fighter! This is a set up! I want to change my bet!" His complaint was quickly followed by the thunderous voice of Carlo Zamboni, telling him to sit down and shut up ... that the bets had already been placed.
Then the gong rang and the first round was on. Katrina strode out toward the center of the ring, a look of smug confidence spreading across her face as she sized me up. Halfway to the center she paused to do a little fancy footwork and throw a few practice jabs into the air.
I decided on the spot to forget all Bruno's instructions and do it my way. I took off like a shot, rocketing across the ring so fast that I took her completely by surprise. Coming in low I head-butted her right in the stomach and sent her sprawling to the mat, a look of sheer surprise on her face.
The crowd roared and above the din I could hear Bruno shouting, "What the fuck was that!" I turned and grinned at him. He waved his arms frantically at me. I turned back just in time to duck under a viscous roundhouse blow launched by my enraged opponent.
Now I settled into doing what Bruno had taught me. I kept moving, dancing about, keeping my elbows tucked in and my gloves raised to protect my body and face. Nonetheless her size and power drove me back. She jabbed at me furiously, catching me on the side of the face, landing a painful one on my left breast.
Then I felt the ropes at my back. She had me cornered. For the next minute and a half she punished me, pounding away, bloodying my nose. My defenses went down and she beat me mercilessly as I hung on the ropes. And as the gong sounded, ending the first round, she kneed me in the crotch for good measure. I fell to my hands and knees as she walked away and Bruno had to rush over to get me up and help me back to my corner.
During the break I slumped on my stool as Bruno worked to staunch my nosebleed and mop the glistening sweat from my body. He gave me water to drink, and yelled exhortations in my ear, "Don't let her get you with her long right! If you can't keep your distance, get in close so she doesn't have room to swing."
Then the gong sounded. And I stumbled forward for round two. The crowd was on its feet. The roar was deafening. I circled around her, keeping my distance, but she cornered me and drove me back towards the ropes again. I dodged under her right at the last second and got away. Then I closed in, literally hugging her while she pounded me in the back.
The ref broke that up, blowing his whistle and forcing us apart. And then it happened. She landed a good one in my gut and I doubled over, giving her the opening she wanted. She belted me hard on my dangling right breast with her left and then clouted me in my left eye with an uppercut right.
I went down flat on my back, holding my gloves to my head. She knelt over me, about to slug me again, but the ref waved her off and began counting "1 ... 2 ... 3 ... 4. ... 5". Each time he slapped the mat with his hand. On 6 I rolled over on my side. On 7 I got up on hands and knees. On 8 I began to get to my feet. He stopped counting on 9.
I was up but unsteady and defenseless. My arms hung at my sides. I squinted at her out of my right eye, the left one having swollen shut, as she circled and taunted me. I staggered about in a half circle trying to track her. My shorts decided at that moment to slip off my hips and fell down to my knees. The crowd went wild over my nakedness.
She reached out and placed a glove on top of my head to steady me. I took a half-hearted totally ineffectual swing at her, and then another. She laughed, then drove her left into my unprotected midriff, knocking the wind from me, and then sent me down with a hard right to the head.
I spun and landed, side of my head on the mat, but legs tucked under me, bare ass high in the air just as the gong sounded. There would be no count. I had survived, more or less, two full rounds of punishment. Bruno came out to drag me back to my corner.
Perched on my stool again, shorts restored to their proper place, I gasped for air as Bruno worked over my sweat-sheened body. "Hang in there Moore," he shouted in my ear, "Remember Zamboni's promise to you. Last one more round before she knocks you out and you've earned your freedom. Don't forget about that Pulitzer you told me you wanted to win! You can do it Moore! Just one more round!"
TO BE CONTINUED
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Blimey, TC! Barb's been working out overnight!
She did it her way...
Well, she's survived two rounds. By the skin of her teeth.
I'm not sure about your life savings, though, Hondoboot!
Blimey, TC! Barb's been working out overnight!
She did it her way...
Well, she's survived two rounds. By the skin of her teeth.
I'm not sure about your life savings, though, Hondoboot!
Lord W
Now's not just me who gets up late.
Although it is two hours less than me. (04.12 me, 02.12 she)
Top Cat
08.12. I've had a Sunday lie in bed.
Lord W
Lie, (mentira , in portuguese) has several meanings?
If not, I do not understand your message.
Top Cat
Sorry, TC. I got out of bed later because it is Sunday.
Repertor
Artifex Imaginum
A great two rounds and also a 'hats off' to TC for finding that picture and posting it within 10 minutes of Barb's fantastic post!!! The sports writer will have more soon...
The tension of the fight is well conveyed. Did the newspaper's editor ever notice that Ms. Moore is an excellent sports reporter too?
I am not sure my sports writing ranked high among my attributes that he most admired
Really? Didn't know the odds-makers were in business back then ... have to let my mafia pals know.
"I can't believe the Zamboni clan has entered such a ringer. The poor woman looks more like a cub newspaper reporter than the 'Babe Bronx Bomber' she is billed as! This kid will be lucky to be alive after three rounds. I wouldn't be surprised if Zamboni gets bounced from the Manhattan Gangland Boxing League for this stunt!" -H Cossell
"What? Can't you see what Bruno coached her to do? She's wearing the 'Queens Sledgehammer' down! There no way that girl gorilla can keep punching her like that! -M. Ali
"Tell me you are joking, Mohammad!"
"Howard, I've learned from this! Usually I float like a butterfly and sting like a bee but what she's doing is easy to see! She's not giving up hope; she's doing 'Rope-a-Dope'!"
"That is the craziest idea I have ever heard! Are you sure she's not just getting the s*** beat out of her?"
"Yes I'm sure she's doing it best. Don't doubt- I am the greatest!!!"
Love this response Tree. You have given me new hope. With Howard and Ali on my side, how can I lose?
All I have to do now is worry about keeping my boxing trunks from falling down.
One more round. One more round. Just keep from getting the crap beat out of me for one more round.
Ohhhh, the power of positive thinking! Who said that anyway?
Love this response Tree. You have given me new hope. With Howard and Ali on my side, how can I lose?
All I have to do now is worry about keeping my boxing trunks from falling down.
One more round. One more round. Just keep from getting the crap beat out of me for one more round.
Ohhhh, the power of positive thinking! Who said that anyway?
I dunno. Ali might be able to convince Cossell, but I personally think Zamboni is going to be in trouble. Unless Barb actually wins, or lasts out the 3 rounds, all the other dons are going to be out to get him for misrepresenting the fight.
Well done, Barb. Great fighting Barb. Good spirit. (And great writing again as well, of course.
)