Marty Mauser can’t be stopped. He won’t be stopped. The young man with the Coke-bottle glasses and pockmarked face and ferret-like frame may be one of eight million stories in the naked city known as Manhattan circa 1952. But Mauser refuses to be just another schlemiel working at a shoestore. Luckily, he’s got a plan. It involves being the single greatest table tennis player the world has ever seen. The kid has the willingness to beg, borrow, or steal (mostly the latter) in order to get to London for the sport’s world championship; the confidence to bum-rush his way into the tournament once he’s there; and the talent to go the distance. Mauser has got a genuine shot at the title. He is his No. 1 biggest fan. If only this perpetual fuck-up wasn’t also his own worst enemy.

Imagine Rocky

See Full Page