Steamroll right over you…
Paddy O’Doyle had always been small. The smallest of a brood of twelve. He scrapped his way through life day in and day out, never takin’ no guff. He became a prize fighter at the age of 20, known throughout the circuit as “The Steamroller” on the count of him plowing ahead regardless of the foe. When his career was up at the ripe age of forty he turned to the healing power of the devil’s lettuce to alleviate the pains of a fighter’s life.
He naturally GRAVitated to his namesake one hitter: Grav’s The Steamroller. It was tiny like him but also powerful like him. He kept it in his pocket as he strolled through his old Boston stomping grounds. He hit it copiously as he sat out on his porch waving to all the familiar faces who still called him “Champ”. “That’s the Steamroller!” They would whisper to one another. “The tiniest and fiercest hitter in all the land!” Ol’ Paddy would just lean back, take a toke or two and smile. He agreed.