Carnera v. Maloney

Primo Carnera, Italian brobdingnag, eased his 272-lb. carcass into a ring in Miami and sat down on his stool while various brisk little men fussed around him. One of the men was a doctor, for Carnera was supposed to have cracked one of his lower right ribs in training. The doctor had authority to stop the fight at any time if the patient felt badly. In the opposite corner sat Jim Maloney, hairy, amiable and hog-fat, who lost a ten-round bout with Jack Sharkey five years ago when Maloney was considered a fighter. Last autumn with the aid of a hometown referee Maloney took a decision from Carnera in Boston. Carnera had to even the score if he was to get anything out of his proposed match with the winner of next summer's W. L. Stribling-Max Schmeling bout.

At the gong, Carnera ran out of his corner as lightly as a nautch girl and shoved a huge left at Maloney, who ducked. Maloney kept trying to hit the spot on Carnera's torso where a clean adhesive bandage marked the cracked rib. "Keep away, Jim," yelled the crowd, and Maloney obeyed, sometimes slapping the plaster, or standing on tiptoes to reach Carnera's face with a roundhouse swing. Although he was eight inches shorter he only fouled the brobdingnag once and then held out his gloves in apology. Carnera danced through eight rounds swinging ponderously, getting in a telling left once in a while but no good rights. The crowd was bored. In the last two rounds Carnera tired and Maloney took courageous chances, dropping his defense and swinging hard. It was like a bulldog barking up a lamppost. The referee hoisted Carnera's glove.

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