Alone

The wife and ma don’t get it. Yer always alone.

The corner men yellin’ all that stuff and I don’t hear a word of it. No crowd, nothin’ all the time. I hear the other guy chuffin’ and the bell and that’s it.

The fight doctor never says nothin’ but I hear him all right. Watching like an audience that’s allowed to climb in the ring and beat you. The swells sit with their broads in the front row and I shower them with a man’s sweat and baptise ’em. I could beat them all one after another or all at once but they’re not there. The fight doctor is there over your shoulder, like death.

It’s a wonder I ain’t killed ten refs ’cause they’re not there, neither. They can say what they like and stand between me and the beezer I’m pounding and I jes go around ’em like a fireplug. You don’t listen to fireplugs, do ya? I don’t listen to none of them ’cause they’re not sayin’ anything I need to hear. I’ll kill that man if they let me and he can cheat all he wants so it’s all nothin’ to me and I roll with it.

Oh, the new ones come and try every gambetto and the refs give ’em a little talking to. I swear they do it to get a minute away from me with a little man that smells of aftershave instead of a big man that smells of sweat and death. I’m your dentist and they’re all coming out, pal. Hit me low and he talks to you and saves you for a minute. I don’t care.

The ref backs away and we’re alone again. You can’t win. I like it here.