Boston Brawl

Ring-wise fight fans took it for granted that Welterweight Champion Carmen Basilio would have a rough night at the Boston Garden. If Challenger Tony DeMarco stayed on his feet for 15 rounds--so the speculation went--home-town officials would give him the title. All afternoon before the bout, odds on the champ dropped accordingly. By fight time, the price was 6 to 5. Basilio's handlers filed an angry beef with the Massachusetts Boxing Commission. "What gives?" wailed Co-Manager Johnny de John. "My boy is getting a bum deal."

In the champion's corner, only Basilio himself seemed unconcerned. The one-time onion farmer from Canastota, N.Y. had taken the title away from DeMarco with a twelfth-round technical knockout last June; he saw no reason why he could not do as well again.

Both are converted southpaws, and they were converted into anything but boxers. From the start they hardly bothered with anything so effete as an old-fashioned left jab. Free-swinging hooks to head and gut were what they threw. Nor was either of them beyond trying incautious righthand leads. It made a fine, bloody brawl. And DeMarco came close to finishing it in the seventh, when he clobbered the champ with a left hook to the jaw. Basilio's legs began a limber, loose-kneed dance of their own; his eyes emptied and his seconds screamed for him to go down, to take a count.

If he heard, Basilio gave no sign. He swayed and stumbled and held on, too proud to do anything but fight it out on his feet. He was still standing at the bell.

In the next round the champ took another pasting. Once more he rode it out. DeMarco was frantic. He had tagged Basilio with the best he had, and Basilio kept moving forward for more.

The challenger had punched himself arm-weary; he had no more to give. Now Basilio's strength was back, and his hooks were finding the range. In the twelfth, he landed a looping left flush on DeMarco's jaw. The challenger was out on his feet. A merciful shove would have sent him down, but Basilio lowered his sights and fired away at Tony's body. Slowly and gracelessly, Tony slid to the canvas. He was up at the count of eight. Basilio moved in to finish him, but Referee Mel Manning was faster. He brushed Basilio aside and took his time slowly wiping the resin from Tony's gloves. It was a wasted effort. Tony was still out when the champ chopped him down once more. This time, all Referee Manning could do was catch his man and ease him down. It had taken Carmen Basilio just two seconds longer to hang on to his title than it had taken him to win it in the first place.

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