Windmill

When Don Quixote tilted with the windmill, he did his best to focus his crumbling and erratic faculties on the proper maneuvering of his rusty shield, the inclination of his little lance, while his gigantic opponent, being without a brain, threshed its huge flails stupidly, and glared with idiotic rancor upon the fustian battler. Harry Greb, middle-weight pugilistic champion of the world, is called the "Pittsburgh Windmill." Like the onetime opponent of Quixote, he swings his arms about and around, jerks them up from below, slams them down from above. But, unlike that mindless creature, he employs in his Sailings the art of strategy. No sharpshooter ever launched his devastating fire with a more deadly accuracy, no captain ever marshaled his attack with a more fatal cunning. Things would go badly with Quixote had he survived to tilt with Greb; they went equally badly with one Patrick Walsh of Kansas City who opposed him last week in Atlantic City, for 41/2 minutes. Bewildered and bruised by many Sailings, Walsh fell into a swoon while the referee counted ten.