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 As the time for the fight with Kennedy got nearer, the Kid got worse if anything. Sparrin' partners had no trouble at all reachin' his short ribs and heart, and I warned him that if Kennedy ever threw a solid punch into his mid-section he would break him in two, but the Kid only grinned and called my attention to the fact that they wasn't a pug in the gym which could lay a glove on his face and that he was in good enough condition to take anything in the body. He also remarked that the Kennedy fight would be the same as the fracas with Owney Griggs—one round.

He had it posolutely right!

A coupla days before the mill a middleweight, which had been trainin' in Billy Morgan's and sparrin' with the Kid, failed to show up. I didn't give that a thought at the time, bein' busy with a million other things. I seen that guy again the night Kid Roberts climbed through the ropes. He was grinnin' at me and holdin' the bucket for Al Kennedy!

The evenin' that Kid Roberts and Al Kennedy fought in Jersey City the coppers closed the doors of the clubhouse at nine o'clock, whilst a coupla thousand bugs fought 'em in the streets to get in. I had the Kid pull his regular stuff—mask, dress suit, valet, and all—and it went big this time with the howlin' mob, which had seen him polish off Owney Griggs with a punch two weeks before. Roberts got a president's ovation when he was introduced and so did Kennedy for that matter. Sweet Mamma—but that crowd was on edge, and when the bell clanged there wasn't a guy sittin' down in the house.

Whilst readyin' up the Kid I had told him this: