The bullring seemed to shake under the roar of protest from the crowd. Rocks, peso coins, chairs and a shower of flaming newspapers were thrown down at the ring. Reporters pulled their coats over their heads and dropped to the dirt. By this time the doctor had recovered his nerve and had scrambled into the ring. His forehead was cut by the flying debris, and blood trickled down his nose. He told Conn that he was right in stopping the fight. He was. It was only a matter of time before Ortiz' whiplike punches would have leveled and perhaps permanently injured Ramos.
In the meantime Ortiz, his gloves covering his head, groped for his corner, and Bill Daly jumped into the ring. He had been hit by a rock, and his head and face dripped blood. He guided Ortiz to his corner, and they started down the steps. But Ramon Velazquez, a Mexican boxing official and the Secretary-Treasurer of the organization sanctioning the fight, the World Boxing Council (not to be confused with the World Boxing Association, with which it is at war), motioned angrily to them not to leave the ring. Daly made an appropriate motion in reply, and then jumped down the steps where Ortiz, having just been kicked in the back, was on one knee in the dirt. Daly bent down and was kicked in the ribs before he could get Ortiz up and moving toward the dressing room.
Conn escaped from the ring without harm, but he had to swing his way through a few Mexicans to get to his dressing quarters. " Ramos would have lost his eye if the fight continued," Conn said. "I kept asking the doctor to come in, but he was scared. He seemed to know how this crowd would react, and he did not want to be put on the spot."
Half an hour after the decision was announced, Daly decided he and Ortiz would leave. When the police said it was not safe to go, Daly started to grab a gun out of a policeman's holster and shouted, "I'll get us out of here." But the police got Daly calmed down, and 90 minutes later Ortiz and Daly were still in their dressing room. Daly, his cracked rib taped, peered out the window. Outside, a crowd of somber-faced Mexicans stood, their faces pushed against the iron bars of a gate.
"Well, let's go, Carlos," said Daly. "There's some money we got to see about."
The manager and the fighter left.
" Se�or Daly," a police captain called, "wait for the protection."
"Ha!" said Daly. He and the lightweight champion of the world moved through the crowd, and their eyes did not miss a face.