Sport: Martin vs. Rosenberg

Two little men, naked to the waist, confronted each other in Madison Square Garden, Manhattan. It was easy to see who would win. One was as wan as if he had spent his life loitering with La Belle Dame Sans Merci beside her autumnal lake, her birdless woods; his face was drawn, his body lean almost to emaciation. He was a young Jew, the challenger. Opposite him stood a diminutive but hirsute Italian, his eyes as fierce as the dark lakes of Il Pitrgatorio, his round muscles bulging under his sleek brown skin. He...

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