Johnson City Staff-News/August 12, 1927
This foul business is really becoming fashionable
We have foul balls, foul play, foul punches, and a foul language, a lot of which was spilled around the Yankee Stadium tonight when Senor Paolina Uzcudun, the pudgy wood chopper of Spain, was disqualified by Referee James Crowley for the alleged fouling of M. Viola Chap-Delain, commonly known as Jack Delaney.
It came about after a minute and fifty seconds, of what they were passing off on the 30,000 clients for fighting, in the seventh round.
The pugilistic pride of sunny Spain was pushing into Movila like a snow plow, throwing punches ahead of him in a sort of haphazard manner at Delaney’s body.
They seemed to be landing in the territory that was fair enough and the dignified looking French Canadian was offering no complaint.
The referee commenced warning Paolino, and admonishing him to “keep ’em up,” to which the Spaniard replied with a blank stare.
I here rise to remark that when Paolino offers a blank stare, it is pretty blank, at that.
He continued plowing, when suddenly Crowley stepped between the boys, and motioned the Spaniard to his corner, from which immediately arose loud Carrambas, the like of that. The same words were spoken in English by many of the ringworms present. They sound much different from Spanish.
Paolino gave the referee another blank stare, and finally wandered to his corner, where he sat down looking very blank indeed. Delaney seemed somewhat startled by Crowley’s action, but he is a nimble-witted young gent, and he turned and trotted to his own corner.
His manager, Pete Riley, presently emerged from the corner and passed about the ring above the dazed inmates of the press section exhibiting an aluminum pot, or pan, one of those protectors won by boxers when engaged in their professional labors. I believe the technical name is a “cup.” The “cup” exhibited by Mr. Riley seemed to be dented, as if it had been sat on by Mr. Fatty Arbuckle, or someone of like avoirdupois. I am informed that these dents are commonly accepted as prima facie evidence of a foul blow.
Later Mr. Rilley hoisted the aluminum vessel high above his head that the whole world might see, and for the rest of the evening the foul was forgotten by gents present as they tried to explain to their fair neighbors what it was all about.
As far as I am personally concerned, I could find no fault, but then these fouls are getting me all confused, anyway. Someone is always being fouled in this man’s town, either in the ring, or out of it. I viewed the punches that Mr. Crowley said was foul, but Mr. Rickard has his press seats so constructed for this event that most of the inmates were peering up slope at the proceedings, and thus their vision was a trifle cockeyed.
I will say, however, that if M. Olvia was fouled I must revamp my diagnosis of the Dempsey-Sharkey matter, and hereby, declare the terrible Sharkey to have been fouled a foot to a foot and a half. My first impression when Mr. Crowley stopped the proceedings was that he had taken pity on the clients and was doing away with the matter as a humane act.
I was thinking well of Mr. Crowley as a kindly man, when the news of the fouling came out, for you see the thing had been pretty terrible.
For six rounds the woodchopper couldn’t have hit M. Ovilia with a handful of rice. However, Paolino kept himself totally surrounded by Elbows, and while M. Ovilia played the march of the wooden soldiers on his bean, the delegates from the Basque didn’t seem more than just slightly annoyed.