Circus Boxer #2

by Ralph LeCompte

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Price

$1,500

Dimensions

58.000 x 58.000 inches

Title

Circus Boxer #2

Artist

Ralph LeCompte

Medium

Painting - Acrylic On Canvas

Description

OAKLEY JAMES
CIRCUS BOXER
(Circa 1930)

They call me the Irish Champ. Most days I box 5 or 6 fights, because after one crowd sees me clobber some poor sucker no one else will step up until a fresh crowd wanders in. We live in a depression; no work, no money, less hope. I had hope once. Her name was Irene.

Deeply in love, hoping to marry, but without two nickels to rub together, I tried iron work, road work, labor, dock work, anything and everything. Every job dried up. Bosses were broke too. That's when I landed in the sideshow.

I'm strong, I'm big. I'm angry. I can hit. That's all the job required. 5 bucks buys a challenger 3 rounds. If he beats me he takes home 50 bucks. Sounds good 'til I tell you I've never lost. That's how it works. We're here for profit. It takes a cocky farm boy two weeks to scrape 5 bucks together. It takes me 3 rounds, usually less, to relieve him of that sum and humiliate him in front of his girlfriend and drunken pals.

I fight for a living daily. They don't. Their energy is gone by the first round. I make it look like a bit of a fight before the truth is delivered. The ref is actually a clown. Our guy. Every call goes my way. The corner man is a dwarf who deposits a horseshoe or brass knuckles in my gloves as needed. I use the knuckles to bust your nose straight on. The horseshoe is for a swat to the temple. The ref will tell you to lay down because it will only get worse. You'd be surprised how many take a dive just to get it over with.

Next week I have my 1000th fight. Wish I was counting an anniversary with Irene instead, but the money ain't much except small and steady, and I do have expenses. I feel stuck, my hands are calloused and my fingers twisted. How much does it take to make dreams come true? I haven't earned that much yet. I think about theses things when I'm soaking my hands in ice water.

Who am I kidding? I'm not even Irish. I'm a South Chicago Polack named Casimir Waslewski and Irene Kolchak married my brother Wadislaw two years ago. I'm a boiler about to explode and none of those poor schmucks who pay 5 bucks to fight me know what they are about to experience. Life feels empty, but I'm still here. Wanna fight?

Uploaded

December 3rd, 2016

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