Back in 1951, briefly home from boarding school, I went to a bar with a phony draft card, ordered a beer and watched Rocky Marciano knock out my idol Joe Louis through the ropes and out of boxing for ever. Joe was old — 35 or maybe 37 and was trying for a comeback as he was broke — and as he sat on his stool after having been counted out, he looked a lot older.

Disagree with half of it, enjoy reading all of it
TRY 3 MONTHS FOR $5
Our magazine articles are for subscribers only. Start your 3-month trial today for just $5 and subscribe to more than one view
Already a subscriber? Log in
Comments
Join the debate for just £1 a month
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for £3.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just £1 a monthAlready a subscriber? Log in