BILL CADY Word Count: 149,227 - At My Friend's Place

Bill Cady, The Early Years … by Bill Cady 276
on his ribs like they were a set of drums and I was with a band. He was the one who
backed up. When he did, I never sampled the sucker bet of following him to continue.
He had way too much room to reconnoiter by now. Instead, I kept after him, tagging his
face and moving. He‟d swing back, swishing the air with a punch where I used to be. As
he recoiled from it, I‟d hit him again and move to a new spot. When the bell rang, I was
pretty much untouched, but I knew I had a brand-new talent I could use. I just wasn‟t
sure how I‟d use it. Not then, I wasn‟t.
I lost once. To a guy I later learned went to Sexton the same time I did. A Black
Muslim named Lincoln Ashford. If nothing else, Black Muslims always had one thing in
common: they hated all white people.
Lincoln was a light heavyweight. Just barely. The maximum weight for light
heavy was 172, and the only way I could hope to lose another twenty pounds would‟ve
required a surgeon. One-ninety-two was as light as this white boy was gonna get.
I‟m sure Lincoln had to bust ass to make weight, but he managed to do it. I
assume his normal weight was around one-eighty-five, so he could do it. I couldn‟t.
He was also fast. Very, very fast, and he hit hard. Like a heavyweight. That man
was a damned good boxer. Damned good.
We sparred once, a three-rounder. The first two was a couple damned quick
fighters almost landing good punches, but having the other guy slip away each time.
Then, maybe halfway through the third round, Lincoln slipped under my guard. He
started with a right uppercut and made it a one-two-three.
I saw three black guys with gloves on standing in front of me. I knew it was all
over unless I got damned awfully lucky, so I decided to play the game. Never let the
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