'Very few persons realize how it feels to be groggy in a prize-fight. The sensation is difficult to describe and is a cross between striking your funny bone and having a tooth drawn. I shall never forget my experience when I first met Jim Jeffries at Coney Island, in the summer of 1899. Although I had figured in many stirring battles up to that time, I did not know what was meant by being in '***** street.' If you remember, in the second round of that contest Jeffries handed me an awful jab on the mouth, which sent me flopping to the floor. Well, after that punch I have only a faint recollection of what really happened. To tell the truth, I did not remember anything of the rest of the mill until I came to in my dressing room after the final knockout. I know I got up all right, but to tell you how I did it is a mystery to this day. My feet lagged beneath me. My gaze was misty and my head swam as if I had been on a spree for a week. I heard the shouts of the crowd. I saw Jeffries, as big as a house, but he appeared to be covered by a huge white sheet. Suddenly he developed into a giant, and there were four of him in all corners of the ring. I tried hard to pull myself together, but to no purpose. Whatever I did seemed to be useless. I rushed and rushed, and he punched me. But I did not seem to feel his blows. It was my head that was bothering me all the time. When the round was over I appeared to be myself again, but when I stood up and fought in the third that awful feeling would return. There was the big sheet with four Jeffrieses grinning and dancing away. My ears began to buzz and I thought I heard some one say, 'Fitz, you've got him.' But when I lunged forward to punch, the sheet appeared and nearly blinded me. It seemed to be as impenetrable as a stone wall. But it was ever before my vision and seemed to mock me. Like a drowning man grasping at a straw, I strove to shake off that feeling and in the sixth round, if I remember correctly, I jumped up intent on getting that sheet away from my gaze. My opponent was far from my thoughts; it was that measly, ubiquitous sheet that I wished to dispose of. So, the first crack out of the box, I made a swing for it. It danced away and grew larger. Then it came forward until it almost grazed my face. Then it receded, and the next moment lashed me in the face. I guess it must have been one of Jeffries's favorite jabs that did it, but I thought it was the mean sheet. So I swung for it. I thought I had it all right, but it danced away and my eyes followed it. I fancied I saw it abiding somewhere near the root, and I was complimenting myself on my good fortune. But before I could gather myself together it appeared and seemed to have grown into one wide covering as large and appalling as a shroud. Well, it was no use, and I resigned myself to my fate. I said to myself that I would not bother if it did not disturb me; and it didn't. But the four Jeffrieses were there, and they gave me enough trouble, to be sure. When I got the last punch, which put me out of the fight for good, I saw a lot of stars, and I guess some comets, too. But as luck would have it, no sheets. I tell you, gentlemen, I have been in many fights but I wouldn't want to go through the experience of that one encounter for all the purses in the world. Talk about the agony of d.t.'s and seeing things! That sheet was certainly the limit. I would rather be haunted by a hundred ghosts, have the shakes etc, than be followed through a contest by a sheet. It's enough to turn you gray, I think.' - Bob Fitzsimmons https://www.facebook.com/share/p/1JX7VDECBo/?mibextid=wwXIfr
