the ring I want to tell you that I am here to win!’
There was such a sensation that when the startled O’Brien tried to speak he was howled down. The fight went the full twenty rounds’ distance and was not much better than their first arid encounter had been. The reporter for the Milwaukee Free Press covering the fight wrote: ‘The affair grew monotonous. It was either a clinch with Burns . . . or else O’Brien circled the ring with Burns standing in the center looking at him and the crowd hooting. In the last round Burns stood quite still several times and begged O’Brien to come and fight him.’ Burns emerged a clear winner to retain his title. No weights were announced before the bout, but it was believed that both men scaled below the 12½ stone light-heavyweight limit. This meant that technically the Canadian was now also the world champion at the class immediately below heavyweight, but he never bothered to claim the championship.
Afterwards, an embittered O’Brien put his side of the sordid story to anyone who could be bothered to listen to him. Apparently he had run into Burns in a cigar store soon after their first bout. According to the challenger, Burns had tried to persuade him to take a dive in the eleventh round of their next bout. Virtuously, O’Brien had refused the offer. Ever adaptable, Burns had then offered to lie down himself if he was paid enough.
The second offer was of much more significance, as O’Brien pointed out self-righteously. ‘This interested me, purely from a business point of view, of course. I could see that there was plenty to be made as heavyweight champion, so I agreed to pay Burns $3,500 to lose. He agreed, knowing that I would ease up in training.’ O’Brien paused, almost at a loss for words at the enormity of Burns’s chicanery. ‘He then ratted when we got into the ring,’ he concluded, obviously shocked by the extent to which depravity could exist in the human soul.
However, approaching the Johnson bout, O’Brien had reason to believe that he was on a lucky streak. In New York in March 1909, as a warm-up for his bout with Johnson, O’Brien went in with the fearsome Stanley Ketchel, one of the greatest middleweights of all time, in what was billed as a ten-round, no-decision contest, in which a contestant could only lose if he were knocked out. For nine rounds of their contest O’Brien jabbed Ketchel silly. Then, towards the end of the final round, the swinging Ketchel finally caught up with his tormentor. Describing the sensation after he had been struck, O’Brien said: ‘It just seemed as if all the lights went out.’ As he fell, his head struck the edge of the resin box, which his second, Kid McCoy, had inadvertently left in the ring. ‘It did not help my condition any,’ said O’Brien with atypical understatement.
However, as the referee’s count reached eight, with O’Brien draped helplessly over the ropes like a heap of washing tossed over a line, the bell went to end the bout. Most reporters present agreed that O’Brien had done enough in the early rounds to get their unofficial decisions, and Ketchel was left ruing the fact that he had not caught up with his elusive opponent two or three seconds earlier.
On the other hand, O’Brien, now approaching the veteran stage, decided that he was on a roll. To many, after fourteen years in the ring, he might have appeared a ‘shot’ fighter, but he still had enough of a reputation to draw in the crowds, given the right opponent. He was also extremely short of money. The only way for a big man to earn a decent purse in 1909 was to go in with Jack Johnson.
O’Brien decided to ignore the disparity in size and give it a go. ‘Following the Ketchel bout, I returned to Philadelphia, where I did a little promoting, bringing heavyweight champion Jack Johnson in for a six-rounder,’ he said.
It was not quite as simple as O’Brien made it sound. Johnson had no objection to going in with a much lighter
There was such a sensation that when the startled O’Brien tried to speak he was howled down. The fight went the full twenty rounds’ distance and was not much better than their first arid encounter had been. The reporter for the Milwaukee Free Press covering the fight wrote: ‘The affair grew monotonous. It was either a clinch with Burns . . . or else O’Brien circled the ring with Burns standing in the center looking at him and the crowd hooting. In the last round Burns stood quite still several times and begged O’Brien to come and fight him.’ Burns emerged a clear winner to retain his title. No weights were announced before the bout, but it was believed that both men scaled below the 12½ stone light-heavyweight limit. This meant that technically the Canadian was now also the world champion at the class immediately below heavyweight, but he never bothered to claim the championship.
Afterwards, an embittered O’Brien put his side of the sordid story to anyone who could be bothered to listen to him. Apparently he had run into Burns in a cigar store soon after their first bout. According to the challenger, Burns had tried to persuade him to take a dive in the eleventh round of their next bout. Virtuously, O’Brien had refused the offer. Ever adaptable, Burns had then offered to lie down himself if he was paid enough.
The second offer was of much more significance, as O’Brien pointed out self-righteously. ‘This interested me, purely from a business point of view, of course. I could see that there was plenty to be made as heavyweight champion, so I agreed to pay Burns $3,500 to lose. He agreed, knowing that I would ease up in training.’ O’Brien paused, almost at a loss for words at the enormity of Burns’s chicanery. ‘He then ratted when we got into the ring,’ he concluded, obviously shocked by the extent to which depravity could exist in the human soul.
However, approaching the Johnson bout, O’Brien had reason to believe that he was on a lucky streak. In New York in March 1909, as a warm-up for his bout with Johnson, O’Brien went in with the fearsome Stanley Ketchel, one of the greatest middleweights of all time, in what was billed as a ten-round, no-decision contest, in which a contestant could only lose if he were knocked out. For nine rounds of their contest O’Brien jabbed Ketchel silly. Then, towards the end of the final round, the swinging Ketchel finally caught up with his tormentor. Describing the sensation after he had been struck, O’Brien said: ‘It just seemed as if all the lights went out.’ As he fell, his head struck the edge of the resin box, which his second, Kid McCoy, had inadvertently left in the ring. ‘It did not help my condition any,’ said O’Brien with atypical understatement.
However, as the referee’s count reached eight, with O’Brien draped helplessly over the ropes like a heap of washing tossed over a line, the bell went to end the bout. Most reporters present agreed that O’Brien had done enough in the early rounds to get their unofficial decisions, and Ketchel was left ruing the fact that he had not caught up with his elusive opponent two or three seconds earlier.
On the other hand, O’Brien, now approaching the veteran stage, decided that he was on a roll. To many, after fourteen years in the ring, he might have appeared a ‘shot’ fighter, but he still had enough of a reputation to draw in the crowds, given the right opponent. He was also extremely short of money. The only way for a big man to earn a decent purse in 1909 was to go in with Jack Johnson.
O’Brien decided to ignore the disparity in size and give it a go. ‘Following the Ketchel bout, I returned to Philadelphia, where I did a little promoting, bringing heavyweight champion Jack Johnson in for a six-rounder,’ he said.
It was not quite as simple as O’Brien made it sound. Johnson had no objection to going in with a much lighter
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