Let's go, Buck! Good luck!
Get your hot popcorn!
You got your instructions downstairs. Watch your low blows.
In case of a knockdown, go to the neutral corner. Understand?
- Hit gloves, come out fighting. - Get him, Buck!
Fight!
Boo!
The eye!
Keep moving! That a boy.
Don't go toe-to-toe! Just box him! Get off the ropes!
That's it.
Don't get clever, Roy!
Yes!
Six, seven, eight...
Yes!
- All right! - Come on!
- Fuck, let's go. - Not now.
- Get him! - I got him.
All right. Thanks. Beautiful.
Looking good, Buck. Look at me.
- How does it feel? - He's doable.
That's all I want to hear.
Unless, of course, he gets lucky.
You can always get lucky, you know.
- That's not what I want to hear. - I know.
But since I was taking all the punches...
only fair you share in some of the anxiety.
Fight!
Come on! Step back! Get off the ropes!
Get your guard up! Why are you... Yeah!
Get moving!
- Welcome to Diggstown! - Yeah!
You're killing him!
20 to 180. Thank you very much!
- You're hell on wheels! - I'm taking his ass down myself!
Keep moving, Roy. Get off the ropes.
Come on! Combinations!
Yes! Hard! Take him down! Put him away!
- Yes! - Get up, you fat fuck!
Five, six, seven...
eight, nine!
Out!
My compliments, Fitz. He was everything you said he was.
- He's a real slugger. - He certainly is.
I'm so impressed...
I'm actually willing to double our side bet.
- Just you and me. - Done. That makes it 100,000.
The man can add.
Hit him!
Mix it up, kid. I ain't made of glass.
Break it up. Let's go. Fight!
Get at him now!
Let's do it! Come on!
- He's giving a lousy performance. - He's embarrassing. Business stinks.
- Put him away and go for Billy. - All right.
Fight!
To your corner.
- One, two, three, four... - Yes!
- Get up! - Five, six...
seven, eight, nine!
He's out!
Fight.
The body, Roy!
40 to win 80!
With all that headgear, it's like trying to fight Darth Vadar.
You gotta stay with his head. You got that? Yeah?
Only an 18-year-old could drink and fuck all night and still look that good.
You'd like to put a grand on the kid going three?
Cheap Ray Bans, a grand.
One, two, three...
four, five, six, seven...
- You sure you want this? - He's right, son.
- You can walk out of here proud. - Fuck you, nigger.
Eight, nine! He's out!
Nice work, kid.
Gut shots are the worst.
- The worst. - The worst is yet to come.
Sam's up next. Remember?
You can send your next man up, if you've got any more willing.
I think I'll be able to still find me a couple hands not shaking so bad...
that we couldn't get gloves on them.
How about your own there?
You ready to sign another bank draft?
- Absolutely. - Good.
Your man here, "Honey" Roy...
Inspirational.
I'm so inspired that...
I'm thinking of upping our side bet to an even quarter million dollars.
How about you?
A quarter mil.
You must have some pretty big guns coming up...
but consider me inspired.
Jeez! Damn, Sam, you're killing me.
- Just give me some water. - What's wrong with you?
Yeah, drink it up.
We're very bad.
At least we're safe.
I am. Good luck.
Fight!
Get a muffler for that thing!
- Oh, my God. - That was something.
$5,000 under the seat of the cab of your truck.
Don't lie to me, boy.
I'm a generous man.
As I see it, you've got two choices.
You can whoops him good and win your fight tonight...
or you can lose it and bury your brother here...
at first light tomorrow.
I will get a "yes, sir" on that.
- Fight! - Come on, Ham, jab him!
Son of a...
Roy, get out of the corner!
Keep dancing!
Push him back, Roy! That's it!
Goddamn it, get off the ropes!
Pick it up. Let's go.
Stop him, ref, right now!
Son of a bitch!
What's going on?
What's up with these Busbys? One won't start, the other won't stop.
Don't take any chances. Either Ham's decided to fuck us or Gillon outbid us.
- Tell him to go down right now. - What if he won't?
Hey, man, it's time. Let me have your chin.
Give me your chin, man.
Yeah! Go get him!
Stick and move!
All right, keep floating!
Back it up! Put him away! That's it!
- Ref, break it up! - Let's go! Break!
Corner!
You, 20 to win 80! I'll be by the hot dog stand!
Getting old on me? You go 15 rounds, you're wheezing.
I don't know what's worse: Fighting him or listening to your mouth.
- That's motivation. - You call that motivation?
It gets the anger up. It's good for you.
When I want anger, all I gotta do is remember Moline.
- Don't start with Moline again. - Motivation, my ass.
Just get in the ring and fight this guy.
Back off! Make him do the work!
- Let's go! Pick it up! - Go get him, boy!
Fight!
Come on.
He's killing you. He's busting you up. You gotta finish him off now.
Show this double-crossing son of a bitch why they call you "Honey" Roy Palmer.
Do your sweet thing.
And you do it now! You hear me?
One, two, three...
- four, five... - He's out!
Six, seven, eight, nine!
- Neutral corner. - Get up!
Three, four, five...
six, seven, eight, nine!
God, no!
- Come on, son. Let's move back. - Get him out of the way.
- Goddamn you! - Watch out, boy! Get on back!
- Get back right now! - Get off of me!
- Move back, boy! - It's all right. It's okay.
Let me have him. Come on, man.
- You gotta be cool. - They just killed him, Roy!
I don't believe that.
Looks like poor Slim had all his hopes on winning that money.
- Come on, Ham. - Be strong.
Settle down now. We gotta get you to the station.
- You'll have to answer some questions. - Sorry, Ham.
That was one courageous fight you just fought out there, sir.
You know what I mean.
Ham, did your brother try to commit suicide before?
- Suppose you'll want to take a break. - You think I need a break from you...
- Keep them coming, you son of a bitch! - Goddamn it, that's what he wants!
- Take a nap. - I want your ass in the ring!
We'll take your break!
The names mean absolutely nothing to me.
I gotta have faces to go with the names.
Then fax me pictures of anybody ever connected with Gabriel Caine.
Buster, just get me Gillors second-half lineup right now!
Shit!
How's it hanging?
Kind of all at once, Paulo. How's things with you?
- Better and better since you got out. - Good.
Looks like I'll finally get to kill you.
There's that distinct possibility...
although I'd bet four dollars against an hour with your mother...
that it doesn't happen that way.
I'm really sorry. That was insulting.
Five bucks.
Mr. Corsini felt a reminder of your obligations...
would be in your own best interest...
seeing what just happened in town.
It's kind of working.
Not that you could have any doubt who would kill you the worst.
No, sir.
Come midnight, you better win.
Don't ask. Just Victor doing me a favor.
Would you untie me so I can get this off my neck, please?
I hate being hung.
I just hate it!
The plars changed.
Gillors got over 700 grand in cash, and I say we gut the prick.
If you guys want out, I'll understand.
This ain't about money anymore.
All right.
Buster get the lineup for the second half?
Sonny's up first, but he's all show.
Robby Gillors next. You know what he's about.
- Grab me some towels. - Where are they?
- Back there. - And then there's Frank and Tank.
- They covered? - Yep.
So we'll wing it with the last man. Gillon will save him to the end.
Ray will be fine. I've seen every cracker on every farm in the county.
That's five fights to finish up by midnight, in five hours.
Can you do that?
Shit! Is he breathing?
Get him. Watch his neck.
- Somebody get his legs. - I got them.
Get him back. Watch his head.
He's alive.
This jaw looks terrible, Fish.
How's that eye? Is it hemorrhaging?
His nose is busted.
The right eye is hemorrhaging.
- Got a pulse. - Who am I? Do you know who I am?
My hat.
- I lost my hat. Find my hat. - Easy, buddy.
I told you about that. I don't want to see that thing in here again.
Okay, let's go.
You want to bet? Let's bet!
I need one-five, Victor. A million and a half dollars.
Or I forfeit and you can kill me now.
There it is. All of mine against all of yours.
Now there's only one question:
You got any balls or just that two-inch dick?
I wish I had a bar of soap to wash your mouth out with.
We here to talk about what's in your bathroom...
or what's in your fucking vault?
Are you going or not?
That's quite a sum of money.
It's just a tad more than what I really have.
I tell you what...
why don't you throw in that property you own around town?
Then we'll just call it even.
You seem to know quite a bit about my finances.
What I know about you...
would make Charles Macum Diggs himself get up and walk.
A million five.
Take a man with a big set of balls to want to make a bet like that.
Go over to my bank, Chet. Bring my safe deposit box here now.
I'll accept your wager.
Of Mr. Corsini's money, of course.
Somebody has to take him to the hospital.
- Will you do it? - Sure.
Ladies and gentlemen, here comes Sonny Hawkins!
Sonny Hawkins is now entering the ring!
The fight is about to begin at last!
We would like to thank you for your continued patience...
during all the delays.
We have merely three hours left until midnight.
With five fights still to go...
I don't think we will see any more delays.
Thank you, ladies and gentlemen.
Gentlemen, to the center of the ring.
You had your instructions.
No low blows. Hit gloves, come out fighting.
- Sonny, we love you, honey! - Come on, Sonny! Do it!
What the hell was that?
Get the next one up here.
One, two...
Come on! Get up!
Robby, I need you to do something for me.
You can't go up there and fight right now.
Daddy, I'm not afraid of him at all.
Listen to me. It has nothing to do with that.
Remember what I told you downstairs about his mind?
About capturing his mind?
Right now his mind is in a whole different place.
I need you to walk out there, step up onto the apron...
look him right in the eye and then walk out.
Then we got him.
Daddy, I'm gonna look like a fool.
Daddy, I can't do that.
Do it.
Don't fuck with me on this!
Get Robby out here!
Hit him, Rob! Let's go! Cut him down!
- What was that all about? - Survival, I guess.
- One less fight. - Who's next?
The guy who kicked your ass at Nel's Bar.
Rip his tits off.
Hit that son of a bitch!
Get up, you bum!
Neutral corner.
Disqualified.
- Who's next? - Tank.
283½ pounds of Tank.
Holy shit.
Those big arms can't hurt you if you stay inside.
- Work him close. Just stay close. - Right. Close.
You!
Fight!
Close! Come on! Get close!
Too close!
Shit!
Jesus.
Break it up. Let's go.
Thank you. It's 80.
- God. - Close ain't gonna make it.
Look, he's bigger than you are. He's tougher, he's faster.
He's younger than you are. He hasn't fought 22 rounds today.
But remember this: You are black.
- What's that mean? - I don't know.
I'm trying to inspire you. It's a Roots kind of thing.
- It's like a motivation thing. - You are shit at motivation.
Now you got him!
That's it, Tank!
Cut loose!
Yes! Put him away!
He's out.
All right, throw out your secret weapon.
And you better have papers if we've never seen him before.
That's hardly the case.
Actually, I believe that this man is an old acquaintance of Mr. Palmer's.
- Who is that? - That's Hammerhead Hagan.
Your Hammerhead Hagan? This guy is a ringer.
There's no way he was living around here when we made the bet. Forget about it.
I think you'll remember that our agreement was signed...
four days after the wager.
It clearly stated, any man residing...
within Olivair County on that day was eligible.
This rent receipt verifies that Mr. Hagan moved to Diggstown...
two days before.
Wait a minute. This is where I live.
This is my boardinghouse.
You snuck this guy into the basement under my nose?
Time's wasting.
Mr. Palmer, he's all yours.
Thought you'd be dead by now.
You will be before the night's over. Man, you look bad.
How does this feel?
- Get out of there! - Yeah! Kill him!
Get off the ropes!
One, two, three...
- four, five, six... - Get up, boy!
Keep moving, Roy! Don't get near him!
Be alive! Just move, side by side. Stay away.
Get out of the corner!
Come on! Stick and jab!
- Get off the ropes! - Baby, this ain't no dance.
Come on, boy, get up. It ain't over yet.
Two, three, four, five, six...
Come on. Uppercut.
- That's the way! - Yes!
Break it up. Let's go.
Can you hear me?
I'm stopping it right now! I'm stopping it here!
Don't lose faith in me twice.
Don't make me watch you die. I'm stopping the fight.
You really have to work on that motivation thing.
Keep dancing, Roy. Keep moving.
One, two, three...
four, five, six, seven...
You're through!
Two times! Right now!
Go for the belly, Roy! Yes!
Bring it to him!
Put him away!
Yes!
- That's it! - Go! Kill him!
Two, three...
Fuck, man.
Yes!
You did it!
Excuse me!
What time did you want to start the last fight?
There is no last fight! There were ten! You lost! Give it up!
The bet was ten, but your man only fought nine.
What are you talking about? Your kid punked out. He forfeited.
A forfeit counts, didn't you know that?
Of course it counts, when there's a forfeit.
But, in this case, there's no forfeit because Robby never entered the ring.
What kind of kindergarten bullshit is this?
Is that right?
I'm afraid he's right.
Our tenth fighter is ready whenever you are.
- Minoso Torres? - Right.
There's no way.
The prison is in Winfield.
That's right, which happens to be in Olivair County.
I believe you know my old friend Warden Bates.
I said I'd be seeing you again.
Never try and hustle a hustler.
I'm sorry, Roy.
So what's the front page on the Mexican?
Dirty as they come.
Tough as nails. Pain is some kind of voodoo thing with him.
He cut Wolf Forrester to pieces in a ring fight in prison.
Come on, Torres! Flatten that boy!
Yeah!
That's it!
Get up!
He's out!
I can't believe it!
- Yes! - I did it!
- We did it! - I told you!
- Did I tell you? - How did you pull that off?
- How did you get Torres in? - I always take care of my friends!
You're something else!
Actually, I believe it goes: "Never con a con man. "
Especially one who's better than you are.
You beat me fair and square.
Do you mind? I just lost this whole piece of shit town.
There's a picture won'th about a word.
Come on! Out of here!
Gym's closed. Let's go. Everybody out.
Why are you guys so depressed? You didn't just lose everything.
We'll get them next time. You know what I need you to do?
- Take every armed patrolman... - You don't need me to do nothing.
I'm not your fucking flunky no more. I'm out of it! It's over!
- Just lose, will you? - It's never over until it's over!
You should have done that a long time ago like I told you.
- When have you ever told me anything? - Calm down, John.
Sorry to interrupt your lovers' spat. You got a week to get out of your house.
- Actually, it's my house. - I can give you a ride to the motel.
- We can take my new Corvette. - The law is the law.
Who are you? Wyatt Twerp?
- You want to see the law? - John, what are you doing?
You deserve to lose!
Brother, my hands hurt. You want to do this?
What you did tonight...
It couldn't be done.
Now you motivate me.