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SHOWMAN
There's enough low comedy scattered through it to keep it from being too melancholy to talk about.
By this time Bob Fitzsimmons's relentless campaign to force Corbett into a fight had reached a point where there was no longer any possibility of saying no. Corbett's funny feeling about Fitz had grown stronger every day since he'd won the title. I repeat it wasn't fear in any ordinary sense— just a loony, illogical repugnance to the idea of getting into the ring with him. Fitz was a dangerous man, there's no denying it, but not dangerous enough for anybody of Corbett's speed to be scared of.
We tried to stall him off and keep the public diverted from our own procrastination by making Fitz fight a new Australian heavyweight named Steve O'Donnell whom we were more or less sponsoring. We matched O'Donnell against the aging Jake Kilrain with the idea of building him up to where Fitzsimmons would have to fight him to justify a match with Corbett. A good idea, but Kilrain spoiled it by licking the tar out of O'Donnell. The old fellow was shaky and feeble, but he knew a lot about fighting still, and, what's more, he had John L. Sullivan in his corner, abusing and bullyragging O'Donnell all through the fight. With more experience O'Donnell could have taken the ragging and gone on to win, but, being green, he lost his head and the fight. There was a good deal of excuse— Sullivan was a savage performer with his tongue and had put his heart in his work. He got so heated up that later in the eve
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