By Baer, Max; Schaap, Jeremy; Braddock, James Joseph
opposed to the gritty backdrop of the melancholy, Cinderella guy brings this dramatic all-American tale to lifestyles, evoking a time whilst the game of boxing resonated with a rustic making an attempt desperately to come again on its toes. Schaap paints a bright photo of the struggle global in its golden age, populated via males of each classification and ethnic heritage and lined voluminously via writers who increased activities writing to paintings. wealthy in anecdote and colour, steeped in background, and whole of human curiosity, Cinderellla guy is a vintage David and Goliath story that transcends the sport.
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Extra info for Cinderella Man : James J. Braddock, Max Baer, and the greatest upset in boxing history
By that time, he knew, he would be older and even slower than he already was, which was quite slow. Braddock announced his retirement—but virtually no one noticed. Braddock was often called plodding. “Slow of foot” doesn’t begin to describe the inadequacy of his speed and footwork. He could punch, he could take a punch, he could even box a little, but James J. Braddock couldn’t move. Nor could he inflict much damage with his left hand. Incapable of fighting, he sought work on the docks of Hoboken and Weehawken.
Millions of Americans cheered for him that night, not because he was the betting underdog, not because the champion was unpopular, and not because Braddock was particularly exciting to watch, but because he personified their own struggles. Like so many of them, he had been humbled by forces beyond his control. Like so many of them, he had been devastated by a system that he assumed was stable. Like so many of them, he had been forced to ask for help. The decline in his personal fortunes mirrored the national collapse, perhaps more than that of any other American.
But don’t blame me if Griffin kills that old Irishman. And the purse is two hundred and fifty bucks. ” “It’s a deal,” Gould said. Now all Gould had to do was find Braddock. He had a pretty good idea where he was. Gould walked out of the Garden and headed south to 42nd Street and then west to the Hudson River. He boarded a New Jersey-bound ferry and a few minutes later landed in Hoboken. Braddock was only a few hundred yards away, laboring on the docks, sweating in the noonday sun. “Well, champ,” Gould said, after tapping on Braddock’s shoulder.