“I’ll never forget my experience in the ring with that Kid Griffo. We met in the ring at the Olympic Club at Athens, Pa., and it was agreed that we were to divide the purse, win or lose. I trained for three weeks for the bout, and when I got a flash at Griffo in his corner I noticed that a fold of fat wobbled over his belt. He was in fit condition for a sanitarium instead of a prize ring, and I told Herford [Al Herford, Joe Gans' manager] that I would make short work of the Australian phenom, as they called him. We were to go fifteen rounds, and I thought I could do Griff in about three punches at the wind. I had an idea that he would keep away from me, but that’s where he fooled me. You would naturally think that a man in his condition would steer away from a punch, but he crowded me from the first tap of the gong.
“He clearly outboxed me, but every time he tapped me I smiled at him. ‘See here, old chap,’ he said, ‘I’m out for a draw, and don’t get awfully rude with me because I ‘av a bloomink pain in me stomach and if you slam me once in the body it will be all off. So don’t get rude, and be a gentleman.’ I tried my prettiest to bore a stomach punch into him, but I only caught him on the glove at every trial, and then I switched my tactics and tried for his jaw, but he was inside of me at every punch, and when I led he stepped inside and showered a rain of taps with both hands. He had me tired once, I will admit, and it looked to me as if every one in the crowd was throwing boxing gloves at me. It’s a pity that a boxer of his talent never took care of himself, as he was the greatest defensive boxer that ever lived, and the most peculiar feature of his defense was that he was up and at the opponent all the time, fighting close on the inside of the guard. They talk about Fitzsimmons as a fighting machine, but as a mechanical boxer Fitz never classed with Griffo.”
