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William Harrison "Jack"
Dempsey was, purely and simply, the greatest fistic
box-office attraction of all time. And, not
incidentally, one helluva fighter, to boot. If
Dempsey's opponents could walk away after a fight,
it was considered a success. So great was his punch
that some 60 of them, including those he met in
exhibitions, never walked away after the first round.
Dempsey was the perfect picture of the ring warrior.
Approaching his opponent with his teeth bared in a
mirthless grin, bobbing and weaving to make his
swarthy head with the perpetual five-o'clock shadow
harder to hit, his black eyes flashing and his
blue-black hair flying, Dempsey took on the look of
an avenging angel of death.
His amazing hand speed and lethal left hook, combined with an
anything-goes mentality bred of necessity in the
mining camps of his youth, made every bout a war
with no survivors. He used every possible means at
his disposal to win, his definition of survival less
a breaking of the rules than a testing of their
elasticity--hitting low, after the bell, behind the
head, while a man was on the way down, and even
while he was on the way up. "Hell," he said, "it's a
case of protecting yourself at all times."
But Dempsey never had to; his opponents did. After having
spent several years outboxing the local sheriffs,
Dempsey came out of the West with a fearful record,
a nickname, "The Manassa Mauler," and a manager
named Doc Kearns, who was to play spear-carrier to
Dempsey's greatness. With an animal instinct, an
inner fury, and a lust for battle never before seen,
Dempsey blazed a searing path through the
heavyweight division. |
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Bert Randolph Sugar
The 100 Greatest Boxers Of All Time
Jack Dempsey ranked #9
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