Judge — June 11, 1932 — page 8: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

JUDGE JUDGING rut SPORTS oF. F international conflict be the spice of life then your Uncle Samuel has a veritable bowl of chili on his hands this summer. In a few weeks that sterling old patriot, Josef Cucashay of Boston, will match fouls with H Schmeling of Germany, for the glory of the flag and twenty per cent of the gat Ere this is in print the American women’s golf team will have tried their luck against the automatonlike strokes of Joyce Wethered, England's best golfer, male or female to my mind. The way that lady knocks them down the is something for you and you, Mr. Dub, to dream about. The Olympic games you already know of (what, you didn’t read tho: burning words of mine last we Shame on yo But in addition to all this we are now in the middle of the is Cup season. The American racketeers (purely in a nice way do I use this phrase), hav- ing knocked off Canada and Me without removing their second layer of sweaters, are all set for a tough atch with a strong Australian team at Germantown, It would be just my luck for Hop- man and Crawford of “Down Under” to put our boys on the spot, they have it in them, but I am stringing along with Vines, Allison and Van Ryn to cop the doubles and at least two singles, and thus vind judgment of this old yl wrong ones. By the way I had Tick On for the Derby, didn’t you At this point I must digress for a second and moon over the blows which have been showered on the fair ge of lawn tennis during the ar. The whole thing started when Johnny Doeg told us that he was quitting the game in order to go to work. This was too much. Granted that he made an unsucce: ful appearance at Forest Hills t year in defense of his title it never- theless left a nasty mark. I mean to s whith re we drifting? It is fair that a young man should give up the pleasures of Hot Springs, Seabright, Southamp- ton, Cannes, Wimbledon and points tand west just to go straight and na living? No, and a thousand times no! Shuddering we took stock of our stalwarts. Ah, there w. George Lott, prince of good fellows, debonair off the court and on, the very epitome of his own smart phrase making. Remember when he termed all those country club and casino racket wielders ‘Tennis Bums.” That was telling ’em Georgie ole kid! HEN like a bombshell this spring the news broke. Lott was leaving tennis flat in order to take a steady job. Oh sorrow, oh muffled bells! Gentlemen of the U.S.L.T.A. oughtn’t there to be a law? But out of the came our Lochinvar, Ellsworth Vines the new champion. Staunch to the traditions of the old game he made the following statement and the day was saved. “I will not con- tinue my studies at U.S.C. I want to play tennis. I consider that my game is more important than text- books!" After which lyrical outbursts we will venture to make a small wager. (Pege 31, please) comicbooks.com