We’ve finished up the selection of adventure stories and are now into sports stories. Although this isn’t a brand of fiction in which I’m particularly interested, Tony Goodstone comes close to changing my mind by selecting some real standouts. The first, “The Yellow Twin” by Paul W. Gallico, originally published in 1928 in Fight Stories, is one of the best in this collection. Although its twist ending is predictable, it is a remarkably good story of heroism amidst overwhelming odds.
The story introduces us to Barney and Michael Cassidy, twin brothers who grew up in extreme poverty. Despite their thin, underfed frames, they discover they can hit, and they begin to make money for their destitute mother through boxing. Barney loves the ring and fights with abandon, but Michael is a more reluctant and cautious fighter.
Gallico tells his story like a historian recounting real events. Both for verisimilitude and to keep the pace steady, he intersperses his narrative with imaginary newspaper clippings, which also aid the story’s central conceit: Because of his cautious style and apparent inability to recover from a punch, the newsmen label Michael “yellow,” and this label haunts him through his brief career while his brother, lauded as a heroic pugilist, rises through the ranks—until tragedy strikes.
Like most of the stories in here, this one exemplifies the kind of solid, workmanlike story construction that once upon a time could make a man a living though never gaining him accolades among the literati (although some authors in this collection went on to win Pulitzers when they wrote outside the pulps). It is a reminder that pulp magazines often presented stories of strikingly good quality, not at all the dreck we’re led to believe they were filled with.
If “The Yellow Twin” has a downside, it is that it follows a shopworn formula. I will avoid giving away the details of its second half, but it does involve some dirty dealing in fixed fights, a high-stakes battle against a notorious champion, and a big reveal that the attentive reader will see coming from a mile away. But it is entertaining and satisfying anyway because of the skill with which Gallico handles these familiar elements. As Goodstone says in his brief commentary, its “treatment of courage, honor, and achievement make it a story which could as easily have been set in other surroundings—the West or a war-torn battlefield.”
