ONE-THIRTY-THREE RINGSIDE
conference with Badger and the latter's ultimatum:
"One-thirty-three, ringside, or no fight."
Then, with the hardihood of a man who gambles when he knows he cannot afford to lose, Healy had risked certain defeat on the flip of a coin.
The match was made with a tremendous thrumming of journalistic tomtoms, and sporting America sat up cheerfully, for this was the one great fight it really wished to see. When the articles of agreement were drawn up—a queer document, half legal, half sporting in its phraseology—Mike Badger dropped a large fly in Billy Avery's ointment. It came with the dictation of the forfeiture clause—Mr. Badger speaking:
"For weight, five thousand dollars; for appearance"
"Hold on, there!" yelled Avery. "Who ever heard of a weight forfeit of five thousand dollars?"
"You did—just now," said the imperturbable Mike, with a grin. "I'm going to make it an object for your man to do one-thirty-three. I've had fighters forfeit their weight money on me before this."
Avery argued and Healy glared across the table at Biddy Cline, who glared back, such conduct being customary in the presence of newspaper men; but Mike was firm as Gibraltar.
"Here's the point, gentlemen," said he, ignoring the sputtering Avery. "I don't want
[69]
