Free Algren at Sea by Nelson Algren

a victory by Wales would be a blow to Ulster: hence a triumph ardently to be hoped for by true Gaels. It was by now quite plain that no one in The Floating Ballroom could lose, whatever the result of this crucial contest.
    Then again, what did it matter who won between Protestants? Either way, Eire was in.
    Beneath their certain faith that Ireland could never lose lies a faith equally certain that she must finally fail.
    â€œThe Floating Ballroom” was so named by Behan’s Aunt Maggie, who was present, as well as was Behan’s mother and that star of American television, Brendan Behan himself.
    Aunt Maggie occupies a special fame in Behan’s heart, as she does in hearts of others, because of her moment of truth, where the dead lay against the dead before the P.O. Then she materialized in the midst of gunfire to inquire of her husband, among the holdouts inside, “Are you going to work this morning or not, Mr. Tremble?”
    Mrs. Behan recalled another occasion when Behan had given her ten
pounds and she had subsequently been so deceived by Guinness that she had wakened wearing only one boot. “It’s a lovely drink,” she assured her glass that she held no hard feelings for its deception.
    Nevertheless Ireland has a very good rugby team despite the fact that true Gaels don’t play rugby. They play Gaelic football, an entirely different diversion.
    I didn’t ask whether the Irish Gaelic football team had yet won a match, as I was outnumbered.
    The capture of the American liquor market by Scotch whiskey, while Irish whiskey has failed to scale the wall, struck Mr. Montague and Behan as a monstrous irony, since Irish drinkers in New York outnumber Scots at roughly fifty to one. What were the people of The Ancient Nation drinking in New York bars for the love of God, both men marveled.
    â€œThe last time I saw the Oak Room Bar,” I recalled, “the people of The Ancient Nation were drinking Drambuie. The only customer drinking Irish whiskey was wearing kilts. But, since you raise the question, I once knew a man named Guinness who would touch nothing but champagne.”
    â€œThat’s surely odd,” Behan remembered; “I once knew a man named Champagne who would touch nothing but Guinness. “
    The great game of The Floating Ballroom is to discover a triumph of Irish sporting life to redeem the country’s economic defeat.
    In this I tried earnestly to help by recalling my father’s memory of John L. Sullivan and how proud Dad had always been of having once shaken the hand of The Boston Strong Boy, for had it not been for my father grasping his hand, The Boston Strong Boy would have fallen on his face, he was then that weak from the drink.
    The company appeared curiously unimpressed by this colorful legend from life’s other side, so I told how my own mother had once taken me, a mere tot of eight, to hear Honeythroat Reagan sing If He Can Fight Like He Can Love / Good Night Germany!
    My friends remained unmoved.
    Then there was Kenny Brenna, I added, for I perceived that my friends were eager to hear more, who used to sing O Why Did I Pick a Lemon in the Garden of Love / Where Only Peaches Grow? And Doyle the Irish Thrush!—a fantasist who billed himself as a heavyweight pugilist but was retired after knocking himself out on a ringpost at Madison Square Garden and yet he married well.

    â€œIt’s a lovely drink,” Mrs. Behan observed.
    â€œI’m also a friend of Roger Donoghue,” I now clinched some lasting friendships, “the last Brooklyn-born fighter whose father still speaks with a brogue. In fact I was at ringside the night Donoghue was knocked out by Solly Levitt.”
    â€œIt is not a momentous occasion for a fighter to get knocked out,” Mr: Montague observed.
    â€œFor anyone to get knocked out by Solly Levitt was a most momentous occasion,” I was forced to correct Mr. Montague.
    Although it was a day of