Every time I join my pals for breakfast, I realize that the art of storytelling is alive and well. Recently, my friend Matthews, a good old Delta boy like me, proved it. He told us the story about Roundman.
Like all regions of the country, the Mississippi Delta suffered terribly during the Great Depression. Work was scarce, money was even scarcer, and entertainment was nonexistent … except for boxing matches.
The towns that participated put up open-air rings and passed the hat to scrape up enough money to reward the winners of the three-round bouts.
Roundman was the toughest fighter in the welterweight category. Not only did he win every fight, but also no one had ever gone the full three rounds with him. Most opponents were carted off in the first round, knocked out as cold as a wedge.
Back then, the residents of Greenwood and Greenville had little affection for each other — indeed just mentioning the name of one town in the other brought about a strong visceral scowl of dislike among listeners. Roundman was Greenwood’s boxing pride, and Greenville had yet to come up with a combatant that could hang with him more than a round.
One July Saturday night, the weather was hot and muggy, but that didn’t deter folks from turning out in droves to attend the matches. Greenville’s best bruisers were coming to Greenwood to do battle.
The father of one of the Greenville boys visited Roundman that afternoon. “Son,” he said, “my boy is fighting you tonight. He’s a good boxer, but he ain’t got no confidence in his abilities. I’ll make you a deal. If you’ll take a few punches, not hit back hard enough to knock him out, and let him last three rounds, that’ll be the confidence builder he needs. If you do, this $20 bill is yore’s.”
Roundman’s eyes bulged at the sight of the money. In those days, twenty dollars was a small fortune. Roundman agreed.
When the bell started round one, the Greenville boy went right to work, landing stinging punches. The crowd roared its disapproval, but their man continued taking the punches, all the while keeping his mind on that $20.
And so it went for two rounds. The Greenville boy was gaining confidence and becoming more aggressive, landing punches high and low that began taking a toll on Roundman.
With only thirty seconds left in the final round, the Greenville lad cranked up his attack. When he landed a wallop on Roundman’s jaw, Greenwood’s best forgot himself momentarily — He even forgot that $20! — and bashed his opponent so hard upside the head that the boy’s eyes crossed, his knees turned to jelly, and he began collapsing toward the canvas.
Then Roundman remembered that $20. Just as the other guy was about to topple over, he grabbed him and held him up long enough for the bell to ring, all the time thinking to himself, “Oh no you don’t. I ain’t about to lose that $20.”
Jimmy Reed is an Oxford, Mississippi resident, Ole Miss and Delta State University alumnus, Vietnam Era Army Veteran, former Mississippi Delta cotton farmer and ginner, author, and retired college teacher.
This story is a selection from Jimmy Reed’s latest book, entitled The Jaybird Tales.
Copies, including personalized autographs, can be reserved by notifying the author via email (.(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)).
