Jack wrinkled his brow and with one word gave me the answer: “Gameness.” I thought he hit it on the head. One can’t discuss thrilling fights of the past half-century without bringing in the names of dozens of famous Irish battlers who fought to packed houses in New York in the club membership days and later under the Walker Law. Who can forget the performances of Harlem Tommy Murphy, Willie Lewis, Jack Britton, Mike McTigue, Mickey Walker, Mike O’Dowd, Jimmy McLarnin, Tommy Loughran, Philadelphia Jack O’Brien, Dave Shade and Jimmy Slattery? Some were powerful hitters, others scientific boxers, and many combined both hitting power and science to give us masterful exhibitions. The many contests between Britton and Ted Kid Lewis, the bouts between McLarnin and Barney Ross, the hair-raising bout between Billy Petrolle and McLarnin, November 21, 1930, in Madison Square Garden, the battle with Stanley Ketchel in which Philadelphia Jack O’Brien’s head rested in the rosin pan as the final gong sounded on March 26, 1909, in the Fiss, Doerr and Carroll Horse Mart ring—they were bouts one cannot forget. And then there were the great battles in which Mickey Walker was a contestant. His draw bout with Jack Sharkey, July 22, 1931, his knockout at the hands of Max Schmeling in the Long Island Bowl, September 26, 1932, and his battles with Shade, McTigue and Harry Greb, all in 1925, were performances that brought out the fighting spirit of the Irish to its fullest extent. McLarnin’s three contests with Barney Ross, May 28 and September 17, 1934, and May 28, 1935, the second of which was the only one the Irish lad won, are unforgettable affairs. When Jimmy fought Petrolle, November 21, 1930, he displayed fighting courage that many thought was beyond reason. I recall the smashed, bloody figure of Jimmy, reeling under the terrific impact of Petrolle’s merciless wallops; yet as he stood in the ring, bathed in his own gore, hardly strong enough to keep his hands up in defense, he wouldn’t give in. Referee Haley, one of the best bantams in the pre-commission days, moved over to Jimmy and begged him to quit. “No, no, please don’t stop it. Don’t ask me to quit,” he pleaded. Weak, but still defiant, he staggered through to the finish of the tenth round. In their two subsequent contests, May 27 and August 30, 1931, McLarnin avenged the defeat, winning both. In the same ring in Madison Square Garden, January 6, 1928, I saw another splendid Irish pugilist, Tommy Loughran of Philadelphia, go down in the opening round from a bone-crushing right on the jaw delivered by Leo Lomski of Oklahoma. Nobody expected Tommy to get to his feet before the count could be completed. Yet he did! As the referee reached “nine,” Loughran arose, reeled, and was all but out on his feet. One of Lomski’s seconds yelled, “He’s out, Leo! Go get him! Get him now!”