Jimmy Britt by Rob Snell


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Jimmy Britt

San Antonio Evening News

29 August 1919

VERY usual and oft-repeated question I am asked and daresay every other fighter of note is asked, is: "What was your toughest fight?" As all of my fights were with either champions or near-champions and as when I was fighting such men as Joe Gans, Frank Erne, Kid Lavigne, Terry McGovern, Young Corbett and Battling Nelson at their best, it is a rather difficult question. .

I can truthfully say that my twenty-round fight with Champion Young Corbett was the toughest of them all. Corbett at that time had beaten Terry .McGovern, Kid Broad, Dave Sullivan and Eddie Hanlon all in a row and every one a knockout. So you see I was meeting him at the very zenith of his career. Corbett was, to my mind, the best and, most dangerous hitter of his time and could knock you dead with just one punch from either hand.

It was considered suicide to slug with him as all the best of them had tried it and came to grief. Like all the rest of the boxers and fight fans of that time, I was of the same opinion and figured that with my superior cleverness, footwork and quick thinking, I could outpoint him for twenty rounds. That I possessed cleverness, footwork and brains was conceded by all of the sport writers, so do not get the idea I am boosting myself.

We were fighting at 128 pounds and as most of my fights had been at anything from 133 to 136, it was considered a bad weight for me. However, 1 made the weight without much trouble, only weighing 126 pounds the day of the fight. While I was pretty fine, still I was in good shape. The night of the fight the betting was 2 to 1 on Young Corbett, and this in my own home

town, where I was usually 2 to 1 over the other fellow.

Most of the big bettors in San Francisco were betting on Corbett and for the first time the habitual short end players had a chance to set two to one against Britt. It was the biggest house two little men ever drew up to that time, as we drew $45,000. Corbett was then under the management of Harry Pollock who afterwards piloted Freddie Welsh, and had in his corner, aside from Pollock, Harry Tuttle. now trainer of the Boston American baseball team. I was seconded by that celebrated and best of all seconds Spider Kelly and of course one or two others.

During our training a lot of ill feeling was engendered by the things we said about each other in the newspapers and it extended to our trainers and seconds. Willis Britt, my brother, now dead, was my manager. He himself was a great fighter when a boy. He and Pollock offered to fight each other and we all felt sure that no matter how the big fight came out, we would, at least, have one victory to our credit if this fight came off. My chief sparring partner fought a draw with Corbett's partner and, altogether, when Corbett and I got into the ring it was just like a meeting of the famous Kilkenny Cats.

I forgot to mention that I would never allow my brother in the ring with me. Although we were inseparable, still I always felt that if it looked as though I was getting a bad beating he might throw up the sponge when I still had a chance to win and then besides Bill was liable to give me too many arguments. Well it has taken a long while to get to this fight but here we are at the ringside, so let her go.

At the sound of the gong Corbett came out of his corner, saying to his seconds:

"I'll knock this bird's head on to Hayes Street." (Hayes Street was only a block away). Now remember. Corbett had a sleep producer In each mitt; he was a two to 'one favorite; had won his last five battles by knockouts and also had a very poor opinion of my fighting ability.

According to my plan, I started jabbing with my left and stepping around the ring trying to make him miss with his left and right swings. Contrary to my plans, he was not missing very much that evening and was getting me alongside the head, now with the left and again with the right. Fortunately I was going away from the punches. Had they landed solidly they would have-rung down the curtain on my pugilistic career for that night at least and perhaps forever.

This continued up to the fifth round so I figured that it was only a matter of-time until he would nail me right. At the end of the fifth I came to my corner and did not sit down. I said: "Boys. I am going to slug with this fellow. If I must take a licking, I'm going down trying to give him one." All of them pleaded with me not to do it, saying it would he only a matter of time when he would get tired. I knew better than that as I figured the only way to tire him was to keep fighting him all the time. If I weathered the storm and he did get tired, then I knew I could out-box him.

Just then Willie Britt got up out of his seat near the ringside and said: "What's the idea? Why don't you give that guy a fight?" I said: "That's what I'm going to do. Bill." Then the gong rang.

All this time Corbett and his seconds were shouting from their corner, "What's the matter, is the Dude going to quit?. Don't let him stop, Spider. I'll knock him cold in the next round." I did not like Corbett any too well before, so you can imagine that this kind of talk did not make me any more fond of him.

Well, after that, we just stood toe to toe, in and out of clinches, stepping back now and then to let one go by, but constantly and continually went on the slug, slug, slug. I was a bit faster than Corbett so most of his swings went over my shoulders or around my neck, but what he did to me in those clinches was a shame. This went on until the eighth round, when as I was stepping out of clinch, Corbett swung his right hand, I had not time to step away so I blocked it with my right and had to do it so quickly that I could not block it close to my shoulder but caught it about six inches away from my chin. My right arm having nothing to support it snapped just above the elbow, not quite broken but badly fractured. Had it been my left arm I would have had to stop.

As it was dangerous to swap rights with Corbett and as I could hold it up as a protection, I was not as bad off as it sounds.

.

The fight went on this way for 15 rounds and don't think I am exaggerating when I say that after that round a good strong woman could have beaten both of us in the same ring. Personally I am always glad that I did not slip or fall down as I think I would have had a tough time getting

up. After that I simply went along jabbing with my left with Corbett trying to put over a slow weak swing. He was thoroughly tired out and was no longer dangerous so then I started to box him. I won that fight in the last five rounds and always feel that if I had not changed my plans in the fifth round I would have lost the fight.

All in all with my arm fractured and utterly exhausted at the finish, I believe that despite my numerous fights with Nelson and all the punishing hitters of that day, this particular battle stands out as the toughest one of all.

The term Kilkenny cat refers to anyone who is a tenacious fighter. The origin of the term is now lost so there are many stories purporting to give the true meaning.

To "fight like a Kilkenny cat" refers to an old story about two cats who fought to the death and ate each other up such that only their tails were left. There is also a limerick (with optional added couplet) about the two cats:

There once were two cats of Kilkenny

Each thought there was one cat too many

So they fought and they fit

And they scratched and they bit

'Til (excepting their nails

And the tips of their tails)

Instead of two cats there weren't any!

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