Flesh and Fury

Hey, Jack.

- How are you? - Nice seeing you.

Nice to see you.

Go on.

Get in there.

Kill him!

Finish him off. Kill him!

Behave yourself, Sonya. We've got a long night ahead of us.

That kid has got everything.

Guts.

Punch.

And looks.

Are you kidding? I could lick the guy he's fighting if I had arthritis.

Hey, Mr Richardson.

Hello. Where you been? Haven't seen you around in a long time.

Just clearing the fresh New Jersey air out of my nose.

- Are you going back in the fight game? - No.

- What do you think of this kid, Callan? - He's alright.

I caught him a couple or three times. He's got the stuff.

Who's the foxy grandpa?

That's Pop Richardson.

Go on!

Go on, kill him. Get in there.

- Finish him off. Finish him off. - Easy. You're using up your strength.

What's the matter? Can't you stand a little blood?

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

That's it.

That kid has got style.

And it isn't only in his shoulder pads.

You think he's so cute, huh?

I'll take you back to meet him.

I got entry.

No. He is just a kid.

Do you want to meet him? Yes or no?

Sure.

Come on.

15, 20, 25.

A good fight tonight. I'll give you another spot in two weeks.

Hello, Mr Richardson.

Hello. I've been looking for you. Say, this boy Callan.

- Anyone handling him? - No. He hasn't got a manager.

Hi, Callan. Here's a dame wants to meet the new champ.

Hi.

What's the matter? His nose out of joint?

Don't you get it?

He's a dummy. He can't hear. He can't talk.

Nothing. Nothing.

Some joke.

You ain't champ yet.

He's got to know how to pull his punches.

Come on. Let's leave here.

You still got two minutes to go.

You going to finish the round?

You want to hustle yourself another sucker?

Go and play with your scratch sheet.

Big deal.

Creep.

I'd have likely wound up paying for the drinks and wrestling him off the sofa.

You may be a dummy, but ..

What's the matter?

You want to fight me too? Huh?

No.

Well, what are you doing tonight?

Would you like to take me out?

Dancing? Huh?

Okay. Get your pants on.

Hey, what's going on here?

Who are you?

I'm his brother.

Well, don't look so sorry about it.

The champ and I have a date.

Maybe we'll go dancing.

Maybe I'll show him a good time.

But I'll see he don't break training.

Hurry up.

Well, here we are. My town house.

Did you like dancing with me?

You know, you did pretty good.

I still can't figure out how you do it.

'Vibrations', huh?

Say.

That's not getting your money's worth.

I bet you don't even know how to kiss a girl.

You learn pretty fast.

Mark it 'paid in full'.

What?

Oh. When will I see you again?

The next time you fight.

And win. And have money to spend.

You found your way home, huh?

You finally made the grade with a girl.

Look at the lipstick.

How do you do it, Romeo?

Did you whisper sweet nothings in her ear?

Or did you talk with your hands, eh?

- Why, you .. - Cut it out.

He can't hold own a decent job.

Because sooner or later he's got to slug somebody.

- Fight. That's all he can do. Fight. - Sure, sure.

So finally he fights for money. And what does he do?

He blows it on a dame.

I bet he hasn't got a dime left.

You do understand, Paul.

This contract is for seven years.

I get the usual manager's cut.

One third.

Of your purse.

Get it?

One third.

One third for what?

I'm signing up the next welterweight champion.

Jack Richardson.

You had a boy killed in the ring.

Jackie Lahren.

Middleweight champ, and a good boy.

I've been out of circulation ever since.

Feeding chickens in New Jersey.

Did you say something about him being champ?

Hmm. With the right help maybe.

He's got timing, concentration.

Naturally aggressive.

But he needs training. Lots of it.

He needs the right matches.

He needs .. A manager.

Does he know what he's signing?

I've been trying to explain.

The 'fine print' too?

- You are a friend of his, Miss ...? - Bartow. Sonya Bartow.

I don't blame you for being cautious Miss Bartow.

A boy like Paul could easily be sucked into the wrong deal.

But you ask anybody around here about me.

I will. And I'll read the contract.

For Paul.

Fine.

But remember.

This contract is just a piece of paper. Any time a fighter and I can't agree ..

We tear it up.

That is the way I work.

I will.

Read this for you.

Okay?

And we'll get in touch with you.

Fine.

- Goodbye, Miss Bartow. - Goodbye.

How about it, Murph?

Do you think Paul should sign?

There is no-one finer than Jack Richardson. About Lahren?

Could happen to anybody.

It just about broke Richardson all up when Jackie died.

Like it was his own boy.

Everybody calls him Pop.

Button up, champ.

Take good care of yourself.

That's the boy.

You can do it. Go, you've got him.

Paul, that was beautiful.

Beautiful.

Go on, Paul. Get him!

Paul, you did real fine out there tonight.

Oh, Paul. It was beautiful.

- Just beautiful. - Get him in the shower, will you.

Well, who do we fight next?

I don't know. But I know one thing.

I am not going to fight him every week and I'm not going to over-match the boy.

Okay.

Okay, Pop. I know. Paul is like a son to you.

Okay.

But you didn't think he was ready for Mendoza either.

Paul did alright tonight.

But if you milk him any harder you'll start drawing blood.

You just worry about his matches.

I'll worry about the blood.

Then wipe it off your face. It's showing.

Thanks, Jack.

Hang on to it.

You may need it someday.

For your nose.

What a night.

You should have heard the nice things people were saying about you.

You know something? I am tired.

I don't know why you want to see the place tonight.

I just got the furniture in. Just.

It's your dough.

Okay. But just for a minute, huh?

Let me get you a drink.

Sit down.

Try it on for size.

More surprises?

For me?

A real diamond.

Just like I always promised myself.

On me it looks good.

You are very sweet, Paul.

Real sweet.