The Scrapper Read Online Free PDF Page A

his cut-man’s thumb coming off his eye.
    ‘Keep it covered, for fuck’s sake – don’t let him open it anymore,’ Johnny Brough roared.
    The perspiration was stinging Sparrow’s eyes. He stood up, and felt the stool rub across the backs of his legs as it waswhipped away from beneath him. Molloy rammed the gumshield into Sparrow’s mouth. It was in crooked. Sparrow straightened it with his tongue. With three paces Sparrow was in the centre of the ring. He was alone. Menendez had not arrived yet. Sparrow knew it then. He knew Menendez had lost his thirst for the fight. It’s all over, he thought. I have him.
    ‘Keep it covered,’ came the scream from his corner. ‘Keep the fuckin’ thing covered,’ they shouted again.
    What? Sparrow thought. Oh yeh, the eye.
    Menendez came into focus. He had both gloves in front of his face, and all that was visible to Sparrow was a little triangle, an eye in each corner and the bridge of a nose at the bottom. Menendez’s body was exposed.
    Sparrow let fly a right. Menendez’s eyes bulged at the impact just below his ribcage. A burst of air left his lungs, carrying blood-soaked spittle with it as it gushed from the Spaniard’s mouth. Sparrow was sprayed with blood.
    Sparrow’s mind was on automatic now: throw a second body-punch – quick – before he has a chance to breathe – when the lungs are deflated, that’s when the ribs are at their most vulnerable.
    The punch left Sparrow’s shoulder even before the thought was complete. Thud! Followed by a crack. One of the Spaniard’s ribs had gone; Sparrow’s eyes widened with the recognition of the sound of bone shattering. The training, the practice, the pain, the sweat, it was all coming to fruition. Sparrow’s instinct knew what to do. He dropped his shoulder to feign a third body-punch. If the text books were right the Spaniard should drop his arms to cover the injured rib. The text books were right. As if in slow motion Sparrowsaw the gloves of the Spaniard drop from his face. He was wide open. The Spaniard realised his mistake when his gloves had reached his chest. Too late. The momentum allowed the Spaniard’s gloves to sink another three inches before he began to bring them back up. Too late. Sparrow was focused on his spot.
    ‘Catch him clean!’ he heard Molloy scream from the corner as he threw his body behind the upper-cut. Right on the button. The speed and power from the punch threw the Spaniard’s head back far enough to cut off the blood supply momentarily from the spine to the brain. His legs began to buckle. Menendez staggered back against the ropes. The crowd screamed in anguish. Above the din Macker screamed, ‘Kill him! Go for it, kill him!’
    Sparrow advanced quickly on Menendez. To prevent himself from falling through the ropes Menendez spread his arms wide. It was all over. Sparrow placed his left leg forward to give himself perfect leverage for the final punch. As his foot planted itself squarely on the canvas Sparrow drew back his right arm. The Spaniard knew what was coming. He could do nothing but wait for that millisecond it would take for Sparrow’s punch to arrive. He felt so, so tired. The pain of his shattered ribs was so fierce that he couldn’t breathe. In a way, the punch would be welcome.
    * * *
    Simple Simon leaned forward, excitement in his face. He tried to get closer to the radio; he felt as if he was in the ring with Sparrow.
    ‘Go for it, Sparrow,’ Bubbles cried.
    ‘Kill him, kill him!’ Simon growled.
    * * *
    Kieran Clancy had passed through Navan and was heading for Kells. He was slapping the dashboard of the Ford Escort.
    ‘Go for it! Go on, Sparrow! Take your chance now!’ His radio boomed out the commentary.
    ‘What a beautiful upper-cut! The Spaniard staggers away. He’s going down – no! Saved by the ropes. McCabe moves forward, he winds up for the big one
…
’
    * * *
    Simple Simon was banging the back of Teddy’s seat. He was jumping up and down like a