Chris Ryan

Gianni Infantino taking a corner. No more words are necessary.

When James J. Corbett and Joe Choynski engaged in 27 illegal rounds of a "fight to the finish" on a grain barge in June 1889, it wasn't the first time the two had fought. Theirs had been a rivalry since boyhood. The two grew up about a mile apart in San Francisco. Their first bout, arranged by their brothers, who each boasted their sibling was by far the better fighter, was held in a stable and lasted 30 seconds: the location was deemed physically unsuitable for a fight. Two weeks later, the two trudged into the woods to renew their scrap. Minutes in, a solid blow knocked Corbett to the ground and he refused to go on. Next was an amateur bout at Corbett's sporting club, the Olympic, where Corbett outboxed Choynski. Five years later, the two finally touched gloves as professional fighters to settle it once and for all. On May 30, 1889, they met secretly in an old Sausalito barn north of San Francisco. But local Marin County Sheriff Frank Haley, in curious pursuit of a long line of city folks in carts or on horses along the shoreline of Richardson Bay, suspected either a lynching or a prizefight was about to take place. When he finally trudged up the barn's rickety stairs and saw the two rivals wearing 2-ounces gloves, he interrupted a contest that had gone only four rounds. A rematch was arranged for six days later. On June 5, 1889, the fight would continue on a grain barge called the "Excel," anchored in Southampton Bay off the shipyard town of Benicia northeast of San Francisco. Around 1:30am, several rowboats, fishing boats, and tugboats slowly began to bring 250 spectators out to the barge. Among them was ardent fight fan Sheriff Haley. At dawn, Choynski arrived by sailboat. Corbett followed soon after via steam boat. When Choynski admitted he had 'forgotten' his 2-ounce gloves (he really desired a bare-knuckle bout), a dandy loaned him a pair of seamed red leather driving gloves while Corbett slipped on his own regulation mitts. Before a silent crowd made breathless with anticipation, at 6:48am as a cold wind chilled the fighters' bodies, the two men shook hands, toed the scratch, and the bell rang. The battle, later known as "The Great Barge Fight," was about to begin. It would become one of, if not the most gore-soaked, brutal bouts in boxing history. The two foes fought viciously, the slugger against the technician, never letting up for even a moment of the 1 hour and 40 minute contest. Though there was no quit in him, eventually Choynski began to get the worst of it. In the 27th round, he struggled to rise from a brutal left-hand uppercut. But referee Patsey Hogan finished giving give him the ten count and Corbett was declared the victor. Blood and gore coated both men from head to toe. Scarcely an inch of the hastily constructed ring floor set atop the wood planks of the deck was spared of crimson. The faces of both men sported cuts and welts, their torsos later swollen and black with bruises. One of Corbett's hands was sprained, a bone broken in the other. Choynski’s eyes were slitted, his nose broken, his mouth a ruin from which bubbles of blood emerged with every breath. Both fighters were taken on a tugboat to a local bath house in the City to soak away the pain and bruises. The two warriors limped toward each other and entered the baths together, deep admiration between them over a well-fought match. For their troubles, hats had been passed around to the crowd: Corbett received $460 and Choynski $200.