Nailing Him Was Like Trying To Thread

The Best Defense Is A Good Offense.

When I Was A Young Fellow I Was Knocked Down Plenty. I Wanted To Stay Down, But I Couldn't. I Had To Collect The Two Dollars For Winning Or Go Hungry. I Had To Get Up. I Was One Of Those Hungry Fighters. You Could Have Hit Me On The Chin With A Sledgehammer For Five Dollars. When You Haven't Eaten For Two Days You'll Understand.

For The First And Only Time, I Was More Worried About Getting Hurt By The Crowd Than By The Guy I Was Fighting. I Got A Pretty Good Blast When Introduced. The Crowd Was Hollering And Raising Hell. I Looked Around For My Bodyguard, A Colorful New York Character Named Wild Bill Lyons, Who Packed Two Pearl-handled Pistols And Used To Talk A Lot About His Days In The West. Wild Bill Was Under The Ring, Hiding.

I Was A Pretty Good Fighter. But It Was The Writers Who Made Me Great.

Nailing Him Was Like Trying To Thread A Needle In A High Wind.