Life — September 7, 1922 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

LIFE — SUNDAY EDITION SOX G0 T0 2d PLACE AS COBB HITS TRIPLE PLAY Game Called as Rain Halts Play. Cleveland 26, Reds 0. FENWAY PARK, Sept 2nd—The Yanks are sitting pretty at the top of the Ameri- can League as a result of their defeat today by the Pirates, which dropped them into eighth place. The local boys started out with a rush, but lagged in the seventh inning, when Shocker per- formed an ascension, and were finally nosed out at the final gong, Chicago winning by a score of 11 to 0. It was a weird contest, closely con- tested throughout, teeming with hectic plays, fraught with excitement, over- flowing with thrills and generally in- teresting. Cobb clouted the first ball pitched into the center field bleachers, but was retired on a fast double play, Pick to Peck to Pratt to Ping to Pipp —the score at the end of the first inning remaining at 8 to 7, in favor of Brooklyn. McGraw Springs Surprise In the fourth inning, however, Baker walked, Sisler fanned, Walker tripled, Gowdy breezed, Marquard was awarded an_ intentional pass, Hornsby whiffed, Hoyt doubled, Meu- sel struck out—and the sacks were congested. Cap Anson then stepped to the plate and checked in with a four-ply wallop which tied the score. After this, Alexander tightened up and pitched airtight ball, allowing the Athletics only twelve hits for a total of twenty-two runs. Along Came Ruth There was an amusing incident in the sixteenth inning when Babe Ruth came to bat with five men on base and cracked one of Mays’s slants over the right field grandstand. Umpire Klem called it a fair ball. The Mas- todon of Maul, who was by that time on his way to the showers, turned angrily and threw several bats at Klem. “What did you call that, you big cad?” bawled the Bam. “It was a home-run,” replied His Umps, putting on his mask and chest protector. “Why, it was foul by a city block,” shouted the Wazir of Wallop, as he tore the home-plate loose from its moorings. And then the fun began. As a result of this set-to, the game was forfeited to San Francisco, the ai score being Red Sox—2; Mem- iis—3. Right after the contest, Their Maj- esties, King George and Queen Mary, graciously consented to pose for the Pathe News, and all hands arose while the national anthem was rendered. (The Box Score will be found on next page) ‘ELIS The Home-Run Race Ken Williams, the St. Louis Socker, walked four times yesterday and took first place in the Maul Marathon. The tally: Williams (’08) Hornsby (’16) Walker (’10) Ruth (24) ........ a Prince of Wales (Ucc.) . (*)—Not counting foul balls. SSE, rors ’ “Initial Sack” The Old Box Score Across the trail of drifting years where looms the outbound way I see the Man I Might Have Been and the Bloke I Am Today. I might have hit Four-Twenty-Six instead of O-Two-Four, But you cannot change the figures of The Old Box Score. I used to think that Sisler was a dub, and Ruth a slob; I thought that Wagner was a flv, and so was Tyrus Cobb; But Old Doc Time has traveled, and I’m clerking in a store, For you cannot fool the guy who knows The Old Box Score. I thought that I had Homer stopped and Byron was a lime, But now across the Road of Life there stalks Old Doctor Time. “You're out!” that Ultimate Umpire says. There isn’t any more, For you cannot beat the goof who keeps The Old Box Score. ee * Tris Speaker and Ty Cobb, grizzled veterans of many un- couth campaigns along the sport trail, are still slapping them out with all the untroubled abandon of pristine youth; Bobby Jones and Vinnie Richards, both of them within ear-shot of the cradle, are carrying their downy chins into the finals of more than one championship; Jack Dempsey, at twenty-eight, is standing more or less firmly on the dizzy pinnacle of an Alex- andrian career; Morvich is only three years old. Which proves something, or nothing—in the order named. *~_*e * When you’ve lost all hope in the Grandoldope, You have grounds for a protest—but The bloke who wins is the gink who grins When he foozles a six-inch putt! TRIM MORVICH "IN HENLEY GRID TILT Tilden, Using Trudgeon, Trudgeon, Hurls Circuit Clout as Foe Chucks Sponge. Before a crowd that filled the historic | stadium to overflowing, and amid the cheers | of thousands of enthusiastic alumni and their fair companions, the brawny sons of Scranton Correspondence Schoo! over- whelmingly defeated their ancient rivals, The Glen Ridge Theol eal Seminary, yesterday by a s 17—0. The Yellow and Pi Scranton, and the -Mauve of Glen Ridge transformed the old gray am- phitheater into a veritable riot of color. Mortimer Klotz, the big blond Scranton captain, was the individual star of the day. Scranton won the toss and chose the north side. Beamish, who was in the box for Glen Ridge, dubbed his drive, landing in the rough along the edge of the fairway. A loud cheer went up from the Yellow and Pink cdntingent as Klotz recovered the ball and drove a sizzling back hand to the base line, catching Beamish out at third. At this point it looked like any- body’s race, McGurk punted for Glen Ridge, but misjudged his dis- tance, landing in a sand trap. Down the track past the half furlong mark came Klotz galloping, his yellow and pink colors gleaming in the su i berg of Glen Ridge missed tackle by inches. Over the line he sped, breaking the tape just as the whistle blew the end of the first chukker. Score: S. C. S.—9. G. R. T. S—0. Beamish Lands The Glen Ridge team trotted out onto the field at the beginning of the second frame, with a look of dogged determination on their faces. Beam- ish swung with a vicious left hook against the ropes. with the mashie left Glen Rid; the edge of the green with an easy putt for a par five. But Klotz de- cided to walk McGurk, who was the next man up. Blomweiser, the little Maroon cox- swain, now advanced to the plate. Carefully poising his cue he Played the three ball for the side pocket. Like a flash Klotz was on top of him, and with a quick half-Nelson, wrested the puck from him and sent it shoot- ing toward the enemy’s goal posts. In vain the Maroon ends tried to stop him. He crouched over the handle- bars and pedalled like mad. Beam- ish tried to get him on the five yard line, but slipped on the muddy field, and as the gaily colored launches and tugs tooted their horns and whistles Klotz shot by the buoy a victor i” o LT BIl Cole Atl po! rounc “Fris hand: forty had } Th battle Demy comicbooks.com