Stand Up and Slug!

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He hadn’t wanted to fight Benjy Lobra, but Max had insisted that he had to, saying, “Zack, boy, in this division you got to get by Benjy. Old Lobra, the chopping block. Why... trying to get a match with the leading contenders without getting past Benjy would be like trying to get into college without going to high school.”

Zack stood with the towel over his shoulders, still breathing deep and hard from the workout. “But the guy is my friend! Dammit, Max, I wouldn’t even be in this racket if Benjy hadn’t been in my outfit. I know I can lick him. The sportswriters know I can lick him. The wise money knows I can lick him. So why do I have to go out and pound a guy that helped me build nice deep foxholes and split rations with me and saved my neck twice? Already Benjy is a little slow in the head. Maybe I’ll be the guy to really put him over the edge. I can’t go out there and pull punches.”

Max shrugged. “Benjy wants the match. Maybe Benjy’s smart. A boy’s best friend is his bankroll. It’ll draw good. I say you got to do it, or I can’t wangle a match with Steiner or Brock or Joe Canada. Their managers all tell me to get you by Benjy just like they had to do with their boys.”

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