Pulp Fiction, 1943 · page 20 of 116
12 Sports Aces, January 1943 — page 20: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page Analysis: "12 Sports Aces" This is a prose story page from a pulp sports fiction magazine. The narrative follows a hockey player named Sweeney after a game where he defeated a team called the Bears. A mysterious man named Bo Madden approaches him outside the arena, cryptically warning that "that jinx that's been haunting the Raider forwards won't touch you." Sweeney subsequently leads the Raiders from last place to third place in four straight victories, though he's sustaining injuries while avoiding rough play. A sports columnist hints that Sweeney's success may relate to anxiety about the jinx. The page explores themes of competition, mysterious interference in sports, and underlying tensions between players.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
bd 12 SPORTS ACES crowd’s cheers poured down on Sweeney, but his teammates only stared at him. Their stares said enough, They had seen Him dim Angel Toland’s start and their glances were a warning that Angel would yet have the last word. A half hour later Sweeney stepped out- side the arena. A tall thin-lipped man standing near the curb threw away a ciga- rette that dangled from the corner of his mouth. He strolled over to Sweeney. “A nice game,” he said. “A very nice game.” : Sweeney nodded his thanks, kept walk- ing. But there was something in the man’s voice that caused Sweeney to look at him twice. He didn’t have to look far because the man was matching his footsteps alongside of him. Sweeney said: “Yeah, what about it?” “Not a thing,” the man said, a slow grin growing on his lips. “You were much bet- ter than I expected. You beat the Bears tonight, and you’re the guy who beat me outa taking the Raiders off Rock’s hands. That’s two points for you, But I’m not sore. The old percentage works both ways. T’ll come in for mine later.” Sweeney needed only one guess to know who the stranger was. “You’re Bo Madden,” Sweeney said quietly. “You and me don’t walk in the same direction. Maybe one of us ought to cross the street.” Bo Madden laughed, amused. “You’re still a busher, Sweeney, or you wouldn’t talk that way. But we'll let it pass this time because you’ve done me a favor, I guess I can say you’ve been lucky for me. So I’m going to tip you off to something. That jinx that’s been haunting the Raider forwards won’t touch you.” Sweeney stopped, faced Bo Madden. “You talk in riddles, Madden. Let’s have it straight.” 5 3 Bo Madden shrugged, walked a few steps ahead and pulled open the door of a cab. Stepping in, he looked at Sweeney over his shoulder and Sweeney saw the satisfied grin on his lips. Sweeney was at a loss to understand what it was all about. What favor had he done Bo Madden that Madden should want to assure him that the wing-jinx ee on the Raiders was a dead thing now? He had suspected all along that Madden and Angel were a combination. Beyond that, Sweeney was completely in the dark. T WAS as though Bo Madden had spoken a magic word when he said that the jinx wouldn’t trip Sweeney. An- gel Toland backed into the shadows and had nothing more than a seow] for Swee- ney, Somehow Sweeney got the impres- sion that Angel was straining at the leash but that a stronger hand than his was restraining him. It could only be Bo Mad- den’s hand. Why, Sweeney didn’t know, - Sweeney continued to lead the Raiders out of the darkness of last place and into third place in the team standings. The Raiders ripped off four straight verdicts. In each of them Sweeney accounted for erucial goals. It was a bright spark that Sweeney had brought to the Raiders. His flashy, cyclonie style had the Raiders playing to full houses. It was hipper-dipper stuff on ice and the fans loved it. If the Raiders noticed that Sweeney was avoiding reck- less contaets and steering clear of the rough stuff, they said nothing. Hven as it was, Sweeney’s ribs were taking a ter- rific battering and getting no chance to mend. | It remained for Lew Harrigan, the col- umnist Sweeney had encountered the day he had reported to the Raiders, to hint that he was a “cutie” on skates. While the other writers piled their best adjectives on Sweeney, the columnist confined him- self to a wait-and-see attitude. Between the lines, he brought out that Sweeney’s wild-hare tactics might be due to a case of the jitters about the jinx. The Raider winning streak went on. But it did not brighten Rock Gurnsey’s face. Sweeney noticed the worried frown that Rock wore and couldn’t figure it out. Then, too, Rock seemed to be losing weight and there was a noticeable sag in his shoulders. Sweeney tried to draw out of Rock what was on his mind, but Rock would give him that tired smile and keep his lip buttoned. Sweeney suspected that the reason behind it all was Connie Leonard. The girl EOPMICLOOKS (F@