The heavyweight champion of the world leaned back in the metal lawn chair that creaked beneath his 195 pounds. His calm, thoughtful gaze leveled on the scene before him, and in his dark eyes there was a peace. Against the quiet background, his words were almost shocking. We were discussing one of the most violent heavyweight fighters in the world, tough, young Tom McNeeley, against whom Floyd Patterson would shortly defend his title in Boston, McNeeley's hometown.
There had been a lot of controversy about the fight. Writers and boxing men around the world had accused Floyd of indulging in a mismatch. He should, they insisted, be fighting Sonny Liston or, at least, one of his top-rated challengers. McNeeley, untried, untested, and unranked, could be little more than a sparring partner for the Champion.
Important though public opinion might be on so controversial a matter, a regardless of the weight of evidence against such a fight — from the standpoint of the press — we decided not to condemn Floyd until we heard his side of the story from his own lips.
One day last September, I arrived at Patterson's rustic hideaway in the foothills of the Catskills mountains and spent a very interesting — and pleasant — hour talking with the champion. He was in hard training now, a time which is particularly trying to fighters, especially before title fights. Patterson, however appeared completely unruffled by all the sound and the fury that raged around him. We sat together on the grassy shore of a slow stream which ran behind the stucco housse where Floyd had his two-room apartment. Not far away, hidden by trees, was the bigger house — a former dance hall and auditorium — where he trained.
Why, it was asked, was Floyd fighting Tom McNeeley instead of a leading contender?
"I've told the reason several times," said Floyd patiently. "If I were to have another big money fight this year — after my March fight with Ingemar — I'd be lucky to put ten dollars in the bank. The Government would get it all. Fighting is my profession, not my hobby. Why should I fight for nothing?"
He paused, his brows knit in the thoughtful way he has. "They tell me, the people who are against the McNeeley fight, that the old-time champions defended their titles two, maybe three times a year — and against leading contenders. Well, maybe they did. But in those days they didn't have tax problems. If a fighter got three purses of ten thousand dollars each, he got to keep nearly all of it. Anyway, in order to live like a champion, he had to fight more often."
This was the kind of logic that, delivered in the sincere manner of Floyd Patterson, is mighty strong. To give it added strength, we had jotted down a few facts and figures on the title defenses of some other heavyweight champions. We showed them to Floyd.
James Corbett, who was the first heavyweight king under Marquis of Queensbury rules, defended his title only twice in three years, before losing it to Bob Fitzsimmons in 1897. Fitz didn't defend the crown until he met and was defeated by Jim Jeffries two years later. Jeff did much better, knocking out a challenger a year for six years until he retired undefeated. Tommy Burns also defended the title often, until he was forced to fight Jack Johnson in Australia. However, between Johnson and Rocky Marciano — over a span of 35 years and a dozen champions — only three heavyweight kings defended their titles more than once a year against top competition.
Floyd smiled, "Does that get me off the hook?"
We said we thought it might put a different slant on the matter in the minds of some people. Then we got back to Tom McNeeley.
What were the Boston strong boy's chances? "He's got a heavy punch and he chased Willi Besmanoff clean out of the ring. Does that spell trouble for you?" We asked the champion.
That's when Floyd gave us his views on McNeeley. He is dangerous, yes, and Patterson will take no chances with him.
"What is the possibility of Tom getting in a lucky punch? It's happened before, remember?"
Floyd grinned wryly, recalling the first Johansson fight — not to mention the Pete Rademacher fight. Then he turned serious again. He said, very slowly and distinctly: "What happened in the Johansson fight will never happen again."
That's the way he put it — and that's the way he left it. There was no need for elaboration.
This means that, so far as Floyd is concerned, only a better fighter will take the title away from him. There will be no lucky punch.
The heavyweight champion had drawn a curtain over young Tom McNeeley. An iron curtain.
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