been with Pat Ryan. The big man simply could not hit Faye’s hands.
“Well, that’s one part of being a fighter, but there’s more to it than that. A man has to be able to take a punch. You’re fast enough to miss most of them, but you’re going to get hit. That pretty nose of yours is going to get flattened.”
“That’s all right. Just put me with somebody who can show me.”
“Come along. I got just the fellow for you.”
Faye followed Kelly to the back section of the room where a man was punching a bag. He had a wealth of curly black hair and an olive complexion—and his hands were very fast.
“Hey Tony, this here is Riordan. He wants to learn how to box. You take him in hand, will you? Don’t hurt him now. He don’t know nothing.”
Tony nodded. “Sure, Mr. Kelly. Come along, Riordan. We’ll try a little sparring.”
Faye had never sparred with anyone. He had been in only one fight and had lost resoundingly. He put on big padded gloves and watched as Tony did the same.
“We’ll just skip around and throw some light blows. Nothing heavy. Don’t try to knock me out.”
“All right.”
Faye did not know a thing about footwork. He pretty well stood still, and from time to time Tony would throw a punch, which he easily avoided. He learned that when a punch came at his head, his hands were fast enough to reach up and deflect it.
“Say, you’ve done this before.”
“No, I really haven’t.”
“Well, let’s go at it a little bit faster, okay? This time I’m going to throw some harder punches, and you try to hit me, too.”
“All right.”
The Italian came in and shot a hard left, which caught Faye by surprise. It grazed his head, but immediately he threw out a hard right that caught Tony full on the forehead.
“That’s a good counter punch!” Tony exclaimed. “Well, I’m not going to believe you’ve never had boxing lessons.”
“No, I never have.”
“Well, you’re not going to need a whole lot of them. Come on. Let’s just go at it now. I’ll have to show you a few things, but you’ve got the speed and the build to throw a good enough punch to make it. Here we go …!”
Faye had been back for three lessons at Kelly’s gym, and on Tony’s advice he had started running. “You’ve got to build up stamina. If you ever go up for the championship, you’ll have to go fifteen rounds. Just try sometime walking around for fifteen three-minute rounds just holding your hands up not trying to hit. What kind of exercise you like?”
“I like swimming.”
“That’s the best! Swim all you can. Run all you can. You’re doing great, Mr. Riordan.”
Faye reduced his visits to the gym to once a week. Both Tony and Kelly told him he had it in him to be a professional fighter, but he had laughed that off. “No, nothing like that for me. Just to be able to handle myself, that’s all I want.” They had both assured him that he could, and he was satisfied.
All the heroes he had read about were experts with guns of some type. He had begun learning how to shoot by enlisting Pat Ryan and buying his own set of equipment for skeet shooting. They had gone out one day far from the house, and Pat, who had done this often for his brothers and his father, set up the equipment ready to shoot. “You holler ‘Shoot,’ and I’ll let it go. You try to hit it. Wait a minute.” Pat quickly came over and looked at the gun. “That’s not a shotgun.”
“No, it’s a Winchester. I just bought it.”
“Why, you can’t hit skeet on the move with a rifle. Nobody does that.”
“Well, I’m going to try.”
“All right. If that’s what you want, Mr. Faye.”
He went back and Faye called out, “Shoot!” The circular clay pigeon flew through the air. Faye got off one shot, but the pigeon was not harmed.
“You see. I told ya. You wasted your time.”
“Let’s just keep going. You throw them as fast as I call. Now, shoot!”
He missed again, and for the next half hour he
“Well, that’s one part of being a fighter, but there’s more to it than that. A man has to be able to take a punch. You’re fast enough to miss most of them, but you’re going to get hit. That pretty nose of yours is going to get flattened.”
“That’s all right. Just put me with somebody who can show me.”
“Come along. I got just the fellow for you.”
Faye followed Kelly to the back section of the room where a man was punching a bag. He had a wealth of curly black hair and an olive complexion—and his hands were very fast.
“Hey Tony, this here is Riordan. He wants to learn how to box. You take him in hand, will you? Don’t hurt him now. He don’t know nothing.”
Tony nodded. “Sure, Mr. Kelly. Come along, Riordan. We’ll try a little sparring.”
Faye had never sparred with anyone. He had been in only one fight and had lost resoundingly. He put on big padded gloves and watched as Tony did the same.
“We’ll just skip around and throw some light blows. Nothing heavy. Don’t try to knock me out.”
“All right.”
Faye did not know a thing about footwork. He pretty well stood still, and from time to time Tony would throw a punch, which he easily avoided. He learned that when a punch came at his head, his hands were fast enough to reach up and deflect it.
“Say, you’ve done this before.”
“No, I really haven’t.”
“Well, let’s go at it a little bit faster, okay? This time I’m going to throw some harder punches, and you try to hit me, too.”
“All right.”
The Italian came in and shot a hard left, which caught Faye by surprise. It grazed his head, but immediately he threw out a hard right that caught Tony full on the forehead.
“That’s a good counter punch!” Tony exclaimed. “Well, I’m not going to believe you’ve never had boxing lessons.”
“No, I never have.”
“Well, you’re not going to need a whole lot of them. Come on. Let’s just go at it now. I’ll have to show you a few things, but you’ve got the speed and the build to throw a good enough punch to make it. Here we go …!”
Faye had been back for three lessons at Kelly’s gym, and on Tony’s advice he had started running. “You’ve got to build up stamina. If you ever go up for the championship, you’ll have to go fifteen rounds. Just try sometime walking around for fifteen three-minute rounds just holding your hands up not trying to hit. What kind of exercise you like?”
“I like swimming.”
“That’s the best! Swim all you can. Run all you can. You’re doing great, Mr. Riordan.”
Faye reduced his visits to the gym to once a week. Both Tony and Kelly told him he had it in him to be a professional fighter, but he had laughed that off. “No, nothing like that for me. Just to be able to handle myself, that’s all I want.” They had both assured him that he could, and he was satisfied.
All the heroes he had read about were experts with guns of some type. He had begun learning how to shoot by enlisting Pat Ryan and buying his own set of equipment for skeet shooting. They had gone out one day far from the house, and Pat, who had done this often for his brothers and his father, set up the equipment ready to shoot. “You holler ‘Shoot,’ and I’ll let it go. You try to hit it. Wait a minute.” Pat quickly came over and looked at the gun. “That’s not a shotgun.”
“No, it’s a Winchester. I just bought it.”
“Why, you can’t hit skeet on the move with a rifle. Nobody does that.”
“Well, I’m going to try.”
“All right. If that’s what you want, Mr. Faye.”
He went back and Faye called out, “Shoot!” The circular clay pigeon flew through the air. Faye got off one shot, but the pigeon was not harmed.
“You see. I told ya. You wasted your time.”
“Let’s just keep going. You throw them as fast as I call. Now, shoot!”
He missed again, and for the next half hour he
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