Pulp Fiction, 1943 · page 57 of 116
12 Sports Aces, January 1943 — page 57: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page Analysis This is story prose from a pulp fiction boxing narrative titled "Kill the Champ!" (page 55). The text depicts a boxer named Rowdy Madden preparing for a championship fight against challenger Gunner Borklund. Rowdy is hated by fans and the public due to machinations by his manager Frosty Brown, resulting in poor ticket sales and a boycott. The passage follows Rowdy in his corner moments before the bout, as his manager gives final instructions and Rowdy studies his opponent, a large Swedish lumberjack-type fighter. The narrative captures the tension and animosity surrounding the fight.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
KILL THE CHAMP! 55 mistake, champ, and I’m sorry as hell for you.” Marty Allen’s voice faded. The wire went dead. Rowdy tried to call back, but @ woman’s voice told him that the ex- champ wasn’t home. Rowdy felt like the devil. If the champ had been sore, it would have been easier for him to take. But the champ had been too big for petty anger. The champ felt sorry for Rowdy! That hurt. 3 Rowdy Madden saw only one “out” for himself. Day by day the papers burned him to a more brittle cinder. They painted him as a title embezzler. They built up a feeling of hatred, of resentment against him. Rowdy knew that Frosty was fan- ning the flames of that hatred, but he couldn’t hold Frosty down. Frosty had scheduled a fight with ehallenger Gun- ner Borklund. Frosty was trying to build a million-dollar gate, ... Soon Rowdy Madden would climb through the ropes again. He wanted to win. He had te work to win and he knew it. So Rowdy Madden worked. ... CHAPTER III HE hatred was there. Every fight fan in the world was hating Rowdy Mad- den at that moment. But they were hat- ing him from the back of their loud speakers. Millions of fans waited for Rowdy to be tern to ribbons. But very few of them were on hand for the title fight. It was an outdoor battle, For two weeks the weather had been rainy. Ticket sales had been poor. Twiee the fight had been postponed. And now, under a cloudy, misty sky, Rowdy Madden waited for the championship battle to begin. Weather wasn’t the only factor. The fans hated Rowdy. They hated him so intensely that they did not wish to give him a chance to profit by their hatred. The papers had subtly hinted that it would be nice if the gate was small. Pub- lic opinion had done the rest. It was one of the smallest championship fight gates in years. Invisible boycotting had turned the trick. The ring light beat down upon the can- Br Greer Gor Gar Ger Der Gor Gre Geo Ger Gor Gor Oro Gor Geo Ger Dor Hor Hor Hor H+ Gor Gor Grr Ger Ger Ore Gor Oer Goo Ger Ber PorGee Gee Gor Geers Gon o vas in a white hot glare. Rowdy stood in his corner, his red robe hanging slightly open at the front, a patch of bare torso showing. Across the ring stood Gunner Borklund, the challenger. The Gunner looked fit. Frosty was leaning against the rope, whispering to Rowdy. “I’ve told you how to fight this guy. His left hand is dyna- mite. Don’t ever let it land. But I’m not worried about that right hand. I scout- ed him in training. The hand never healed after he hurt it on Galento. Keep on his right side or you’ll be the ex- champ in a hurry.” 3 Rowdy had never really hated a man until this moment. He hated Frosty Brown. Frosty had greed in his eyes, .Frosty had helped make Rowdy a hated champ and he had done his job too well. The fans hated Rowdy so much they re- fused to pay to see him fight. There would be little profit in this meeting, ei- ther for Rowdy or for Frosty after their expenses had been paid. So Frosty would have to wait for another fight before he could make his ‘pile. Rowdy said, “Sit down, Frosty. I’m ready for this guy. I'll take him—” “You gotta win,” Frosty whined. Rowdy went out and listened to in- structions. But all the time he was study- ing Gunner Borklund. The big blond Swede was from the lumber country. He had an axe-man’s build. He weighed two hundred and five and he was hard. Ye had a long reach and he could punch, Rowdy understood that his evening was cut out for him. The ref said, “The fans want murder. Keep it legal. No dirty stuff!” Rowdy colored, for the ref was glaring at him. “Get back to your corners and come out fighting!” Rowdy went back. He eased his robe off his shoulders. The bell rang and he whirled and danced out. The fans began to scream. It was as if one mighty voice were drumming through that arena. “Get the kill-crazy kid!” Rowdy met the challenger in mid-ring. He flicked his left. Gunner Borklund blocked it with his right, bobbed his shoulder and came in over Rowdy’s right. EMME MOOS (E@)