Word: round
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...week's end, as the Atlas churned through the skies, brighter than most planets, SCORE ground stations as well as amateur radio operators round the world were tuning in to the President's message, triggered by signals from the U.S., then erased, and transmitted anew to the Atlas, and again played back. It would be seen and heard for 20 days or so before burning up in the atmosphere. But that, obviously, was just the beginning...
...crushing right hand to the head, staggered backward, fell heavily to the canvas. At the count of nine, Archie Moore, aging light-heavyweight champion of the world, struggled to his feet. Clumsy Yvon Durelle, 29, the pride of French Canada, promptly sent him down again. Before the first round was over, in Montreal's Forum last week, Archie was decked once more for a nine count. The partisan crowd howled at the prospect of watching the long-delayed demise of boxing's most amazing relic. Said Archie later: "Every time I saw the referee, he was counting over...
Seldom in his 20-odd years in the ring had Archie taken such a pounding. Not until the fourth round did his head clear. Then he poked his darting left hand into Durelle's face, and kept it there through the rest of the fight. In the fifth, Archie ran into a roundhouse right, and fell again. But it was the last time. After that, every Durelle lunge seemed to land on an elbow or a hunched shoulder. Archie flicked jabs, pumped rights, and suddenly it was Durelle's head that snapped back after every flurry...
...postfight hubbub last week, Archie was magnanimous as always. "Durelle is one of the very best I ever fought," he said. "He hurt me every time he hit me. In the first round I said to myself, 'This can't be me!', but something told me I could catch him later on. He can have a rematch any time...
...things go in threes. Most all the stories are tales the tellers had always just known, tales that were told in the generations of their kin, way back to the old country across the ocean waters. Some few, maybe, came to them from a Tally, or foreigner, who worked round in the mines, or a passing Irishman. Big Nelt remembers the Irishman as "not to say old, not to say young. Where he came from it's untelling and where he went to it's the same. He was a clever man and a sight of company...