St Peters Academy - Veritas Yearbook (Saratoga Springs, NY)

Page 51 text:

.He looked out at the spectators then for the first time and the expression on his face made me feel sick to my stomach. I thought of him as I had so often seen him-seated at a grand pianwan ac- complished musician who becomes so absorbed in the notes he is playing that the applause of his listen- ers comes as a surprise. How many times he had looked at an audience as though he had forgotten they were there! Now as before the expression was momentary, replaced by poise and a quiet smile. There was no trace of the fire which must have smoldered before his outburst a week ago. As brothers go. weIre very close, even though our interests are so diHerent; the night I made the boxing team he had promised to watch me tight the last man between myself and success. It was a clean fight ahd I got the decision, but Steve's voice was tight when he congratulated me. I was feeling pretty good so I didn't pay too much attention. The next morning he told me that he had promised to fight in one of the exhibition bouts. No details. All I knew was that he was mad e mad at himself. They told me later that Paul Car- dacy had needled him about his music and made insinuations about his kid brother's having to uphold the family honor. I knew Cardacy only by reputation. His family had pull. in the school as the result of a sizeable endowment. He surrounded himself with self-appointed intelligentia who could stand him for the sake of his money. When he was drunk, as he was on more than one occasion, he was sulky and bitter. When he was sober he was just plain mean. Steve knew enough to pay no attention to'him when he'd been drinking, but that night he was cold sober. Cardaey baited him deliberately, and Steve lashed out in sheer anger. For anyone else a light with Saunders would have been a pushover, but Steve hadn't been in the ring in almost two years. Physically he was in perfect condition. We live off-Campus, a good two mile walk every day. Hours of practicing had'developed his muscles but his strength wasupri- marily in his forearms, not in his shoulders Where it would do the most good. Saunders has become the campus clown, butihe can take a lot of punishment. The issue was clear: If Steve lost the i fight it would be worse than if he had never accepted the challenge; if he won, it would have to be by decision. ' , - The head of the music department called Steve to his oHice on Monday morning. I hope you realize what youlre doing, Nolin. I must ask you to reconsider. You know your circumstances better than I do. That May recital will almost certainly inean a graduate scholar! ship. I hardly think the trustees will think well of a man who willingly signs up for a fight three 11 eeks before the concert. v . - His tone softened a' little.' Steve was the pride of the department. For the love of heaven, Nolin, suppose something should happen to your hands? I knew Steve too well to think that he might go back on his word. I taught him everything I know about boxing and Al Saunders in the days preceding the fight The two stood facing each other, listening to the referee. The crowd seemed to sense that this would be a little better than the usual prelim matches and they were watching expectantly. HThe do'ctor, a short bald man in a grey suit, sat'hunched on the edge ofihis seat, the'ischoolis' guarantee of a resident phvsician available at all times . Taking a final drag on his cigarette, the timekeeper dropped it on the floor and absently crushed out the spark under his heel. i Seconds o'ut. T he gong sounded for the first round. As I look back on it now I couldn t even begin to tell you the details of those first few min- utes. The figures moved around like puppets on a stage, distant and almost mechanical. Then

Page 50 text:

The following three short stories were adjudged the best submitted in, the Senior Class Short Story Contest, , THE Mustte MAKER JEAN DOH ERTY Steve was sitting on the bench near the lockers, his hands resting quietly on his knees. hdac opened the door and came in, followed by the sound of applause and shouts heralding the end of the second round. ' You still-got a couple minutes, kid . Mac looked tired. He had seen this kind before and he had no sympathy for the blonde youngster who would enter the ring in a few minutes. Steve said nothing. I realized suddenly that I had been staring at him. He looked up and grinned sheepishly. uFine brother you are! Thought you were supposed to keep my spirits up. You look like it was the end of the world or somethingf7 He glanced down at his hands, then turned them over. palms up. They were wet with perspiration. He stood up and walked over to the door, methodically wiping his hands'on the seat of his trunks. he corridor was empty. lVIac motioned him to sit down again. Carefully, surely, he began wrapping gauze over the knuckles of Steveis right hand. Steve has beautiful hands - long and firm, unmarked except for the pattern of tiny blue veins; the fingers are slender and sensitive. Mack picked up a towel and went ahead of Steve down the corridor and out into the gym. Ild been in that same ring a hundred times but that night every detail of the place seemed to stare at me defiantly. Lawton is an old college, built originally in the middle of a fashionable section Which has since grown away from its weathered buildings. It now stands like a small intellectual island in the downtown business district. lThe gym has grey walls and high ceilings with tall, narrow Win- dows open to the night air. Despite the welcome breeze the room was filled with blue smoke, swim- ming in hazy circles under the burning white lights hanging from the superstructure. The seats facing the ririg were almost filled. Friday night exhibitions had become popular in the lull between basketball and baseball seasons. . Steve walked down the aisle. Seeing him, a few yelled Take him, Steve e He,s a cinch .... Pin his ears back, Nolin! They were almost all upperclassmen, seniors like himself. They knew noth- ing except the fact that the college paper had carried the usual announcement of scheduled fights. THIRD BOUT: 8:00 P. M. - AL SAUNDERS, 150, versus STEVE NOLIN, 146. That was all. There was a total of five lights on the card. The whole thing was outlined in black, like an obituary notice. Saunders was already in the ring, silhouetted against the crowd. I didn't need to see his face. His close-set eyes and standard grin were well known to challengers working for a berth on the In- tercollegiate Boxing Team. Any welterweight worth his salt could lick him and some of us, includ- ing myself, had even managed to K. 0. him before the wallop in his right could mess up our chances or our faces. Saunders was powerful but he was one of the most thick-witted individuals in the school. I held nothing against him and I knew Steve felt the same way. Steve was wearing dark blue trunks with a red stripe. The reflection from the canvas and the brilliance of the lights gave his skin a translucent quality that was almost ghdstly. He was listen- ing to Macis grumbled advice when a voice echoed above the murmur of the crowd. Play a tune on his chin, Steve.

Page 52 text:

Steve was back in the corner a.gain taking a swig of water. Mac rubbed his shoulders, grumbling all the time. He was surprised at Steve's showing and he was making no bones about it. You got the first, Kid. Keep him going like you did and he won,t know where he,s at. Mac could see the timing and rhythm in Steve's footwork. He could see the short light taps he was landing'on Saundersl ribs e steady and challenging. I knew that his artistls sensitivity was paying off; several times he could anticipate a blow by watching his opponentls sallow face. But one thing neither of us knew-how long he could hold up under pressure. The gym hummed with voices. The crowd didn't quite know what to make of it. They had expected to see Saunders put on his usual free-swinging show but he was obviously confused. SteVe wasn't toying with him either. He was going after him carefully, with dogged concentration. I felt like yelling it out so that everyone could hear: uSure he's careful. Right now his future is all laced up in a pair of leather gloves. But I didn't say a word. ' As the gong opened the second round a group on the far side of the gym started heckling Sauna ders. I recognized the harsh voice of Cardacyls sidekick telling him to lean out and fight, Al. You afraid of a piana player? The boys near the ring laughed and turned around to see who it was. In the ring Steve was dancing away from Saundersl angry left. A sudden blow laid Saundersy defense wide open and Steve landed a blow that stung him, momentarily pushing him back against the ropes. He came back mad. Steve kept him OH for a while but he was breathing heavier now and the strain was beginning to tell. He got careless with a' left, throwing it a little wide. Saunders had been waiting for an opening. The blow shook Steve and he leaned heavily on Al in the clinch, trying to clear his head. The ref separated them and the bell stopped Saunders before he could follow up his advantage. r Steve sat on the stool and stretched out his legs. His shoulders were glistening wet under the hot lights and he was still shaking his head a little. By this time Mac was calling him by his first name. He mopped his face with the towel and checked the gloves almost tenderly. Something made me look out into the faces near the ring. For the first time since the beginning of the fight the noise in the room had changed from a droning undertone to the sweeping lifting rushes of sound that tell a fighter the crowd is behind him. Comments were coming from all sides - prais- ing, encouraging and advising. I slowly began to realize what must have happened. The scoHing crack about a piano player had unwittingly started a vollev of questions about Steve and the purpose of the fight. His story had spread to all the on-lookers. They were for him now but there were still three more minutes to go. I heard a voice say God let him win! and realized with a jolt that it was my own. I wasn't swearing. It was the most fervent prayer I ever offered. .For what seemed like an eternity they traded jabs, looking for a hole to send one home. Saun- ders finally threw a right for Stevels chin but he saw it in time to knock it of? his glove. It grazed his forehead, however, and a thin jagged cut blossomed over one eye. After that they weren't box:- ing any more, just punching savagely wherever they could. The noise from the ringside was deafening now; the crowd surged to its feet, stamping in pro- test. Steve was partly- blinded by the blood from the cut. The referee interfered too late - Saunders connected. Steve dropped to the canvas and lay still. Th locker room was crowded by the time we reached the door. They were all saying the same thing. i It was tough luck, getting that cut, Steve. Yould have had him sure. The corridor was empty when we left except for the warmth and the smell of leather. Outside, the fresh air felt clean and good. As we walked along, it began to rain. t THE END