Tree. William Schey

follow the fights, though. You were real impressive in the gym, a real comer, and all of us knew you’d make it in the pros. Good for you, and lots of luck champ. I gotta go, ‘cause it seems like everyone wants to get married today.”

      Angie and Tree snuck away to a resort in Michigan for a few days; then, it was back to school for her and back to the gym for him. He was getting one or two bouts a month, and some of them were more distant from home. His skills improved as did the quality of his opponents. He was still unbeaten; in fact, some fighters began ducking the chance to fight him, fearful he would put an early end to their careers. With each win, Tree’s ranking moved upward. A few more successes, and Bernie would start thinking seriously about putting him on track for a championship bout.

      Angie got sick one morning as he was about to leave for a main event in Toronto. Four hours after he got to Canada, she spontaneously aborted. Tree got the message at his hotel and called her. “I’m so sorry sweetheart; are you OK?”

      “Except for a broken heart, I’m fine,” she said. “We’ll start over when you get home.”

      “How about I forget this match and come right home?” he asked.

      “No, you stay there, and do the best you can.”

      Tree stayed and suffered his first loss. Some of the fans recognized that he wasn’t at his sharpest. Others felt that perhaps he had been overrated. The most bothersome comment came from Tony, the Thug, Desandro, the fighter who had just beaten him. “He ain’t dat good” Tony said. “I’ll give him a rematch any time he wants it, if he aint’ afraid.”

      The boxing commission questioned Bernie with regard to Tree’s lackluster performance, and when they heard what had happened at home, they dropped the issue. A fight for the championship would still be in the offing if Tree were to win his next few fights. The first was in Dallas, a ten rounder against Levi Thompson, a bona fide welterweight contender who had recently moved down from middleweight.

      Thompson predicted an easy victory at the weigh-in. “I’m bigger, tougher, and I have more endurance that you. I just beat a middleweight in a 12 round, unanimous decision, so you don’t have a chance.”

      Tree looked at him and said, “We’ll see what happens in the ring, big mouth.”

      Tree knocked him cold in six rounds. A right cross to the temple and a pretty left hook to the jaw induced Mr. Thompson’s premature slumber. “What do ya have to say now, sucker?”

      His next fight was his rematch with Tony Desandro. Tree was a three to one underdog, but this time, his heart wasn’t aching and Angie was at ringside.

      Desandro was confident and did a lot of showboating in the early rounds. He danced around for a few rounds taunting Tree who stalked him relentlessly, saving his energy. In his corner, between rounds five and six, Tree told his trainer,” If he comes out again with his clown act, we’re going home early.”

      Thirty seconds into the sixth, the Thug stuck out his jaw as a way to provoke. Tree launched a left hook, short and sweet, and so quick that most of the fans missed it. They might not have seen it, but fans in the first three rows heard the crack when Desandro’s jaw broke. He crumbled and didn’t stir for a long time. His trainers dragged him to his corner where he sat glassy eyed and dejected for a full five minutes.

      Back in his dressing room, Tree was jubilant. “What do you think Desandro will have to say for himself now?” a sports writer asked.

      “His jaw might be too sore for him talk for a while,” Tree said.

      “And what do you have to say for yourself,” the sportswriter persisted.

      “I’m tired, and I’m going home with my beautiful wife.”