The Power of One (38 page)

“I'll be okay, Doc. I'll dance and everything, just like Geel Piet says. Lieutenant Smit says I'm blery fast, you'll see, they won't hit me, for sure,”

“It's nice of you to say this, Peekay. But what happens when comes one big Boer and connects?”

I grinned, trying to make him feel better. I repeated Hoppie's comment.
“Ag,
man, the bigger they are the harder they fall.” I felt pretty corny saying it, and I knew now why Hoppie had said it to me. He must have felt pretty corny too.

Doc groaned and buried his head in his red bandanna. “Peekay, I want you should be very careful. In that ring are not nice people.” Just then Klipkop called me over and Doc squeezed my hand. “You must use your feet to run away, Peekay. In my head I can hear only Wagner. No Mozart, only Wagner.”

Klipkop and Lieutenant Smit were standing with a large bald man with a big tummy who wore long white pants and a white singlet. A few feet from them stood two adults and a kid. The kid was quite a bit bigger than I, though not as big as Snotnose. He wore a red singlet and in white on the front was the word
sabie
. That was the town where Klipkop had his
nooi,
to whom he had recently become engaged.

The big man in the singlet looked at me and then at Lieutenant Smit. “He is not very big. Are you sure you want him to fight?”

The lieutenant nodded. “It will be good for him.”

The big man looked at the boy from Sabie and then looked doubtfully back at me. He turned to Lieutenant Smit. “His opponent is eight inches taller and has probably got five inches more reach, man.”

“If I think he's getting hurt, I'll pull him out.”

“I blery well hope you know what you doing, man,” the big man said, shaking his head. The two men from Sabie were grinning, and I could hear what they were saying inside their heads. They were glad their kid was going to get an easy fight first up.

Klipkop turned to me. “This is Meneer de Klerk, Peekay. He is the referee and also the judge. He just came down from Pretoria last night.”

“Good morning, Meneer,” I said, sticking out my hand. The referee took it and shook it lightly.

“You got nice manners, son,” he said. Behind his back I could see one of the men pushing the kid from Sabie so he would do the same thing. Meneer de Klerk turned and indicated a large wooden crate on the floor below the boxing ring. Inside the crate were at least fifty pairs of boxing gloves. “I want ten-ounce gloves. I don't want to see no kid hurt. Pick your gloves and then show them to me, you understand?”

“We got our own gloves,” Lieutenant Smit said.

“Then bring them, let me see.”

“Us also,” said one of the men from Sabie. He stepped forward, holding out a pair of gloves.

Meneer de Klerk examined both sets of gloves and declared them suitable. “Okay, glove up. We on in five minutes.” He turned to a man sitting at a table directly beside the ring. “Five minutes, you hear?” The man nodded and consulted a large pocket watch in front of him. He also had a bell and was obviously the timekeeper.

Klipkop and Lieutenant Smit both worked on lacing me up. I felt very important, as neither of them had ever actually supervised any aspect of my boxing before.

“Remember, Peekay, boxing is a percentage game. Just make sure you hit him clean and more times than he hits you. No clinches, in clinches he can throw you off your feet. Stay out of the corners, stay off the ropes.”

The man at the table rang the bell, and we walked over to the ring. Klipkop helped me through the ropes, and then he and the lieutenant climbed in after me. There was a proper stool in the corner, and Lieutenant Smit told me to sit on it. I felt a bit silly because the kid from Sabie was standing up and punching into the air and I was sitting like a little kid on a chamberpot.

“Right! Both in the middle,” Meneer de Klerk called and climbed into the ring. “What's your names?”

“Du Toit, Meneer.”

“Peekay, Meneer.”

“I want a clean fight, you hear? No clinches. When I say break, you break. No hitting below the waist or behind the head. One knockdown, and the fight is over. You understand, Peekay? Du Toit?”

“Ja,
Meneer,” we both said.

“Right, when you hear the bell you come into the center of the ring, touch gloves, and start boxing. Good luck.”

I walked back to my corner and on Lieutenant Smit's instructions sat down. Because it was the first fight of the day, all the teams were gathered around the ring and there were even some people from the town watching. It was my first boxing crowd, and my heart was beating hard. Du Toit was standing in his corner, and he too was looking around. I don't think either of us wanted to make eye contact. From my stool he seemed very big, but I had waited too long for this moment to be afraid.

The bell rang. “Box him, Peekay, you hear?” Klipkop said as I jumped from the stool.

We touched gloves in the middle of the ring, and as Du Toit pulled away I darted in and snapped a left and a right to his jaw. His eyes widened in surprise. I could see that the punches hadn't hurt him, but nevertheless my early aggression had caught him unawares and he looked surprised.

He was a good boxer and didn't lose his composure but circled around me. He threw a straight left that went over my shoulder and flew past my ear. I went in under the arm with a quick uppercut and caught him hard in the ribs. I saw him wince, so I knew I'd hit him hard. He caught me with a right on the shoulder and spun me around. I anticipated the left coming at me, ducked under it, and got another good body blow on exactly the same spot as before. His arms wrapped around me and I was in a clinch, which I wasn't supposed to be in. I hit him furiously in the ribs with both hands, but my blows were too close to be effective and I knew he could hold me as long as he liked.

“Break!” I heard the ref say, and as Du Toit's arms slackened I got right out of the way. For the rest of the round I let him chase me. I was much the faster boxer and had much better footwork. Toward the end of the round I could see by the way he set his feet which punch was going to come next. Just as the bell went, I got inside with a short right and clipped him neatly on the point of the chin.

I had heard nothing during the fight and now realized that the crowd was making quite a noise and that my name was being shouted in encouragement. At the end of the round there was a lot of clapping and one or two whistles.

“You done good, Peekay,” Klipkop said. Lieutenant Smit wiped my face with a towel. “He's missing with the right cross, but not by much. Watch it, man. If that kid finds his range, he's going to hurt you bad. Keep your chin buried in your shoulder, that way if he gets one through you'll take most of it on the shoulder.”

The bell went for the second round, and I let Du Toit chase me around the ring. I think he must have been told to try to get me into a corner, because he would work me carefully toward one, but at the last moment I'd feint left and duck out right and his right cross would miss by miles. But then I did it once too often and he caught me with a left uppercut in the gut and had it not been for the ropes behind me, I might have gone down. He knew he'd hurt me and in his anxiety to capitalize was telegraphing his blows, trying for the big hit. All I could do was duck until I could use my feet to get out of trouble.

To my surprise, in the second half of the round he seemed to be tiring. He'd thrown a lot of punches, most of them landing on my gloves, though he did hit me a good body blow that hurt like hell. I began to move in quickly and pick him off. Toward the end of the round the crowd was beginning to laugh, as I seemed to be able to hit him almost at will. A look of desperation had crept onto his face. I don't think I was hurting him much, but I was making him very tired and very frustrated, just the way Geel Piet had said it must be done. The bell went, and I was sure I had won the round.

“You don't have to hit him again to win,” Lieutenant Smit said. “Just stay out of his way, you hear? Just counterpunch, no attack. You going to win this clear, man, unless he cops you a lucky one.”

“You do like the lieutenant says, Peekay. You just stay out of trouble,” Klipkop added with a grin.

The bell went for the final round, and we went into the center of the ring and touched gloves. Du Toit must have had instructions to nail me because he kept rushing me, throwing wild punches. I'd nail him with a straight left or a right hook as he passed, but I was careful not to get set to throw a big punch. The crowd was laughing as I made him miss, and I was beginning to feel pretty good. I had outboxed him and hadn't been hurt, the bell would go any moment, and I would have won. The right cross came at me and I couldn't move out of the way. It smashed into my shoulder and into my face, and I felt as though I had walked into a telegraph pole. I felt myself going and grabbed at the ropes behind me to stop myself falling. The next blow came, but I managed to get my head out of the way. Then Du Toit threw another right and it just grazed my face. But my legs felt okay and my head had cleared. I ducked under a straight right and danced out of the way just as the bell went. “Phew!”

Doc was at the ringside, jumping up and down. “Eleven out of ten. Absoloodle!” he yelled at me. It was the happiest moment of my life.

I had started to move back to my corner when Meneer de Klerk called us both into the center of the ring. We shook hands and I thanked Du Toit for the fight, but I think he knew he'd lost as his eyes brimmed with tears and he didn't reply. “You got nice manners, you been taught right, Peekay,” Meneer de Klerk said again. Then he took us both by the hand and said, “The winner, three rounds to nothing, is Gentleman Peekay!” He held my hand up, and the crowd clapped and laughed at my new name. The Barberton Blues all yelled and whistled.

“That was good,” Lieutenant Smit said. “But it's early times, you were lucky, man, you got a Palooka. When I tell you to stay out of the way, you stay out of the way, you hear? That right cross nearly brained you, man. Two like that early in the next bout and we throw in the towel, you understand?”

I nodded and tried to look contrite. As Klipkop pulled the big mitts off my hands, I suddenly felt light, as though I was going to float away. It was a wonderful feeling. It was the power of one stirring in me. Nothing Lieutenant Smit said could

dampen my spirits. I jumped down from the ring feeling ten feet tall.

Doc gave me a big hug and then he held both my hands and we did a little jig, which made me feel a bit silly but he was very happy. “Peekay, I am very proud today! Absoloodle!” Then he stopped and reached into his pocket for his red bandanna and sniffed into it. He looked up, his blue eyes all watery. “Such a dancer, already. Absoloodle.” I had never heard him say so many absoloodles before.

Fonnie Kruger won his fight against a kid from Boxburg and so did Maatie Snyman in the under-thirteens, Nels Stekhoven in the under-fourteens, and Bokkie de Beer in the under-fifteens. I'm telling you, we were a pretty proud lot in the Barberton Blues, every one of us had advanced to the semis. Fonnie Kruger and I were both in the under-twelve division, and if we got through the semis we'd be in the final together. But our hopes were soon dashed. There was a kid from Lydenburg called Kroon who was the biggest eleven-year-old I had ever seen. He was at least a foot higher than I and twice as wide. He wasn't a boxer, but he polished off a kid from Nelspruit in the first round when he sat him on the canvas after about one minute. We instantly dubbed him Killer Kroon. We all got scared just looking at him, and Bokkie said he was glad he was fighting in the under-fifteen division and not in the under-twelves.

Fonnie Kruger got Killer Kroon in the semis and managed to go one round before he was sat on his pants seconds after the second round had begun. I think he was glad that it was all over; Killer Kroon had closed his right eye. “It's like boxing a blery gorilla,” he said when he climbed down from the ring.

Just before lunch I entered the ring again to fight a kid from Kaapmuiden. He was a square-built, nuggety sort of bloke and very strong around the shoulders but not a lot taller than I. It was the first time I had stood up to another boxer whose chin level wasn't above my head. It was a good fight, and my speed saved me from taking the weight of his blows. He hit hard and straight, but I was able to move away as the punch came, so the sting had gone out of it. Nevertheless he landed quite a lot of punches and was scoring well. Before the final round began Lieutenant Smit wiped my face.

“You're not doing enough to make certain of this fight. Watch his straight left, he keeps dropping his right glove after he's thrown the left. Get in under the blow and work him with both

hands to the body. I want to make certain you got enough points.”

We touched gloves for the final round, and Lieutenant Smit was quite right. The kid, whose name was Geldenhuis, threw his left and then, curiously, dropped his right. I went in underneath and got five or six good blows to the body before he pushed me away. The final bell went, and the crowd chanted, “Gentleman Peekay! Gentleman Peekay!” They were all Afrikaners and the English word obviously amused them. I thanked Geldenhuis, who also thanked me. Then Meneer de Klerk announced, for the second time that day, “The winner in all three rounds, Gentleman Peekay!” The crowd laughed and clapped and the Barberton Blues went wild.