As a sportswriter, Lipsyte recognizes the importance of ritual to sport, and he uses it as an effective structural device. As usual, Henry accompanies Alfred to Spoon's apartment after lunch. This allows them to have time alone, during which Henry reveals more of his character. Whereas Alfred doesn't really like fighting, as Mr. Donatelli observes near the end of Chapter 18, Henry does love managing. The reader gets the idea that Alfred will go on to successful pursuits in other professions; but years later, Henry will still be managing fighters. Henry may be the next Donatelli.
The fight itself is a classic, all the more significant because we know from the start that Alfred cannot win. Hubbard embodies all of the strengths, and more, of Alfred's sparring partners and former opponents. He is stronger, faster, rougher, and more skillful than all of them. Finally, we know from Chapter 14 that he is a welterweight, at least seven pounds heavier than Alfred.
Hubbard is a quick starter; true to his form, he explodes into Alfred at the opening bell and scores a knockdown. As the fight progresses, Lipsyte's imagery is specific and telling. Hubbard's left is "like a meat hook." His head crashes into Alfred's mouth. He hurls the lighter man against the ropes. His gloves are hammers. His shoes slash at Alfred's ankles. Hubbard's shoulders rough up Alfred's chin. His head is like a huge bullet, grinding into Alfred's eyes. Alfred has no business staying in this fight. In a magnificent simile, embodying the life of Alfred the street kid, Lipsyte describes the sound that Alfred numbly hears as he is knocked down a second time; it is a "distant plop, like a stone splashing into the pool at the bottom of a sewer hole."
