Word: cooperating
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...dozen extra choruses of Cole Porter's You're the Top, offers the palm to such persons and things as the philosophy of Plato, the Ferrari automobile, Tolstoy, the Place Vendôme in Paris, Charlie Chaplin, Shakespeare, the skyscraper, the model T Ford, and Gary Cooper. Noticeably absent was Mrs. Guinness herself-who is about as elegant as they come...
London's biggest boxing crowd in years-35,000-was on hand at Wembley Stadium hoping to see Henry Cooper, 29, button the Louisville Lip. Not that anyone really expected it. Cooper might be the British and Empire heavyweight champion, but he was older by eight years and outweighed by 21 Ibs.; then, too, there was all that tender scar tissue around Cooper's battered eyes. "I'm afraid our 'Enery will 'ave to 'it 'im over the bonce with Bow bells to beat 'im," admitted one Londoner. But Clay...
...This Is Unbelievable." And that Cooper tried. Normally a slow starter, he rushed from his corner, nailed Clay with a flurry of whistling lefts that brought the blood rushing from yon Cassius' pretty nose. "This is unbelievable," a BBC announcer shouted into his ringside microphone. "Cooper is boxing magnificently." All through the first round and into the second, Cooper kept flicking lefts inside Clay's careless guard, keeping him off balance, forcing him to backpedal. The crowd howled. The BBC was ecstatic. "Oh, what a lovely sound for Henry Cooper here at Wembley. He shook Clay, and that...
...worried-just surprised. Toward the end of the second round, Cassius finally decided to fight, rapped a neat right to Cooper's left eye. A tiny cut appeared-and the crowd quieted down. In the third round, blood began running into the Briton's eye, blinding him, spoiling his aim. "Nothing very serious," announced the BBC hopefully. But both Cooper and Clay knew better. A smile spread across Cassius' face. The fight was his. But why hurry...
...Cooper must fall in five," Clay had boasted, and to be exact he made it "1 min. 35 sec. in the fifth." Now he was going to keep that pledge. Refusing to throw even a tentative punch, Clay dropped his arms, began dancing aimlessly around the ring. Up to Clay's corner stormed Bill Faversham, head of the eleven-man Louisville syndicate that has staked Clay to his pro career. "Angie," he yelled to Clay's trainer, Angelo Dundee. "Make him stop clowning." Clay would not listen. He was picking the time...