12 Sports Aces, January 1943 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

12 12 SPORTS ACES 00 shor @ re Qee Ger Qoo hor Bre oreo G++ seer Sor Bro Gee Bor G re Hoe Gre Ose Ger Orr Gor Orr Ses Gor Per Gor Gro Hor Bor Poo PerG reer Geo Gor hor Gor Oe Gee hor s+ Gee Pre Sor Por Gee Gre Gor hor Gr Ger Gur Grr GO Por Gos © low and hard and all out of proportion. He didn’t seem the least perturbed over Sweeney’s remarks. He grinned amiably. “My, such loose talk. Take it easy, man. You ain’t going no place we ain’t. Right now it looks ike we’re all heading for the cleaners—except, of course, friend Angel. He follows the beam.” | Play was resumed and it was a dull, listless affair. Sweeney was all over the ice, back-checking, stick-handling and giving an all around nifty exhibition. But it was nothing to get excited about, No- body was putting the pressure on Swee- ney. They were letting him ride wide and handsome. That infuriated Sweeney, the nonchalance and the what-the-hell atti- tude of the Raiders. Nevertheless, time and again, Sweeney looked up to find An- gel Toland’s stare pinned on him. T THE fifteen-minute mark, Swee- ney saw Angel Toland skate over to Rock Gurnsey. Angel said something and Rock shook his head. Angel persisted and | Rock finally nodded. “Okay, Sweeney,” he said. “Swap shirts with King and work for a while with the second line.” ; There was a significant exchange of winks among the Raiders and Sweeney had an idea that the going would be hard- er and rougher. It was. The first time he laid his stick on the puck he was jolted in his tracks. Sweeney did not come upon the name “Wild Bill” without reason. A battle royal was right down his alley and Sweeney didn’t mean to pass this one up. Sweeney really pitched into things. He dug the rubber out of a scramble around the cage, spilled one man, and his skates began to spout sparks. He crashed over the blue line and Angel Toland was wait- ing for him, Sweeney feinted, swerved, but Angel had the answer—a eross-check. Going dewn, Happy Holliday whammed into him from an angle. It was rink warfare from that point on. The Raiders turned the heat on Sweeney, pummeling and hammering him severely at every turn. His own teammates fed him passes, sent him driving into the “death” zone, Sweeney never flinched, He kept pounding in, trying to smash through a defense that was set and waiting for him. The session went on and it was no longer Sweeney against the whole Raider team. It was Sweeney against Angel Tol- and and the others were so many bystand- ers, Willing to let them fight it out alone. That was all Sweeney asked. The pair of them went at it tooth and nail. Along the boards, Sweeney pried the disc loose from Happy Holliday. Angeli Toland came up out of nowhere, crowding and throwing his bulk against Sweeney. The two of them crashed heavily. Angel’s stick lashed out viciously. But it didn’t strike. A stocky figure hammered the stick out of Angel’s hand with split-second tim- ing. “No you don’t, Angel,” Happy Holliday said levelly. “This is one time your jinx doesn’t work. You asked for a scrap and you’re getting more than you can swal- low.” Angel’s eyes were hot coals in his face. ‘Keep outa this, Hap. After Thursday you might find yourself out of it for good.” ““Mebbe so,” Happy said tightly, “but I can’t say I’ll be sorry.” Happy wheeled and skated away, Swee- ney foltowing. “That one was on the house,” Sweeney said. “A stick in time really saved nine that trip. Thanks, pard.” The defenseman shook his head. “The trouble with you big guys is you got no brains. You don’t look dumb, busher, but you must be to tangle with that guy on the ice. You can’t win, sucker. Listen to me.” “I’ve got a hunch I can,” Sweeney re- marked quietly. “So I’ll find out about that myself,” Sweeney didn get any the worse of the going in the next couple of minutes. He battled his way into the clear down center ice on a solo attempt. He bulleted in on the cage to sink the counter. Angel Toland emerged from the mid-ice fracas. scouting the puek toward the boards. Sweeney skated in at an angie. Angel suddenly passed the disc, rammed into Sweeney and bowled him off his feet. He really handed Sweeney the business in the mixup that followed. Sweeuey picked eCOPMMICGLOOKS