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=230. Slang
In writing stories of athletic meets and games the
reporter will find that in matters of language he has almost complete
freedom. For this there are two reasons: the fact that it is necessary
half the time to get final results of contests into print within a few
seconds or minutes after the outcome has been decided, and the fact that
athletic devotees--"fans" in American slang--are not naturally critical.
Time is the all-important element with them. The results of a baseball
game are wanted within a few seconds after the last man has been put out
in the final inning. Whether the writer says the Red Sox defeated the
Tigers, or nosed them out in the ninth, or handed them a lemon, means
little to the followers of the game provided the information is
specifically conveyed that Boston beat Detroit. Slang is freely
used,--so much so that the uninitiated frequently cannot understand an
account of a game. The "fans" can, however, and they constitute the
public for whom reporters on the sporting pages maintain they are
writing. If, then, one can brighten up his sporting stories--make them
sparkling, electric, galvanic--by using slang, he will find them
acceptable to any editor. The only caution to the beginner is that he
must be sure every detail is clear to the "fans." Slang can easily be
overdone,--much more easily than one would suppose,--with the result
that an otherwise good story is choked with near humorous, foggy jargon.
Better no slang than a story cloyed with it.[25]

[25] It is the belief of the author that the sporting page has
not yet reached its highest level of language and that the
younger of us will live to see as pure English used on the
sporting page as in the other news columns. The purpose of
this volume, however, is not to present the work of the
reporter as it ought to be, but as it is--a fact which
accounts for the above paragraph and its recommendation of
the use of slang in sporting news stories.

=231. Four Kinds
An examination of sporting news stories shows four
kinds: (1) those dealing with athletic events before their occurrence;
(2) those reporting the events; (3) those analyzing and explaining the
events and their results; and (4) those dealing with the sport in
general. The second of these, the story reporting an athletic event, is
not unlike the types of news stories examined in the two preceding
chapters and may be discussed first, reserving for later analysis the
other three because of their divergence from the normal type of news

=232. The Lead
The lead to a story reporting an athletic event
follows with few exceptions the same general principles as the leads
already examined. Unlike those studied in the preceding chapters,
however, the lead to such a story often is written last, because of the
necessity of writing a running account of the game as it progresses, yet
of giving final results in the lead. The feature most frequently played
up is the final result, with additional mention of the causes of victory
or defeat, the equality or inequality of the opposing players, and any
important incidents. Always too, of course, the names of the teams, the
time, and the place are given. But the score is regularly the
feature,--so much so that if one is in doubt about what to feature in an
athletic contest, one can always play a trump card by featuring the
results. Thus:

One hit and one score was all the Senators could
make off the Yankees at Washington this afternoon,
but that was enough. Joe Gedeon made the hit, a
three bagger, and Milan passed him home when he
dropped Nunamacher's high fly to center.

A tie score was the best the Maroons could do for
the Hoosiers Saturday on Marshall Field. The count
was 7-7 when Umpire Hanson called the game in the
eleventh inning on account of darkness.

=233. Names of the Teams
Almost as frequent is the featuring of the
names of the opposing teams, with the final score included at the end of
the lead.

Cornell's 1915 football team wrote its name in
football history in blazing letters on Franklin
Field this afternoon when at the end of one of the
most stirring contests ever seen on that gridiron
the scoreboard read: Cornell, 24; Pennsylvania, 9.

=234. Cause of Victory or Defeat
The cause of a team's victory or
defeat often makes an effective feature for the lead.

With the aid of a bewildering assortment of plays,
the Syracuse University football team defeated the
Oregon Agricultural College here to-day, 28 to 0.

Inability to hit, coupled with poor fielding at
critical moments, caused the defeat of the New York
University nine by the Stevens Institute of
Technology yesterday on Ohio Field. The score was 5
to 3.

=235. Individual Players
Stellar work by individual players--even
poor work when responsible for the loss of the game--often makes
necessary the featuring of their names.

Jim Thorpe and George Kelly led an assault on the
Dallas pitchers this afternoon while Pol Perritt and
Fred Schupp were baffling the local talent at home
plate. The net result was a shutout for Dallas and
five runs for New York.

Wildness on the part of Foster and timely hitting by
Oldring and Strunk enabled Philadelphia to defeat
Boston again to-day, the score being 6 to 2.

=236. Other Features
Even the kind of weather, the condition of the
grounds, the size of the crowd, or the effect of the play on the crowd
may be featured:

The Weather

High winds and bad light made the marksmanship poor
at the local shoot yesterday, the best score being a
93, made by Lawrence Bowen.

Condition of Grounds

The annual football game between Lawrence and Beloit
yesterday, resulting in a 14 to 6 victory for
Lawrence, might better have been called an aquatic
meet. The best swimmers won.

Size of the Crowd

Fifty-nine thousand football fans saw the warriors
of Old Eli take the Tiger's pelt yesterday at New
Haven. The count was 13 to 7.

Effect on the Crowd

A disgusted crowd of 8,000 Sunday baseball fans saw
the Brewers lose to the Colonels yesterday, 2 to 14.

It will be noted in these leads that the final score, while not always
featured, is nevertheless always included.

=237. The Body
The bodies of stories reporting athletic contests are
all but unlimited in their methods of handling, depending on the nature
of the sport and the length of the story. If the sporting editor has
limited the reporter to two sticks, the body may contain the lineup, the
names of the officials, mention of those starring or playing
particularly poorly, when and how the scoring was made, the condition of
the field and the weather, and the size of the crowd. If the editor
wants a fuller report, the more important plays, told chronologically,
may be added. If he wishes a detailed account, all the plays should be
given, the reporter following the chronological order after a full,
summarizing lead. In big athletic events, the sporting editor often
assigns two men, one to write a general account, the other a detailed
story. In such stories it is the reporter writing the general summary
who compiles the summarizing figures boxed at the beginning, giving the
total attendance and receipts and making comparison with preceding
events. A typical baseball story is the following:


Through some change of policy on the part of the
concern which is conducting the weather this spring,
the sun, which has not been at large much in recent
days, was permitted to shine on the Polo Grounds
yesterday. The Yankees reveled in the sunlight and
chalked up their first victory of the season,
beating Washington by a score of 3 to 1. A crowd of
more than 20,000 people left their umbrellas and
raincoats at home and sat in at the Yankee jubilee.

Charley Mullen, one of the Yanks' utility men, was
rushed into the fray in the sixth inning as a pinch
hitter for Wallie Pipp. Two runners were riding the
bases at the time, and when Mullen flayed a single
to left he also propelled Baker and Gedeon over the
plate with the two units which marked the margin of
the New York victory. The Yankees played just the
kind of baseball everybody hoped they would and that
was just a bit better than the best Washington had
to offer.

A lot of people from the Edison Company who know
First Baseman Judge of the Washington club well
enough to call him Joe, presented him with a diamond
ring. Judge used to play with the Edison team before
he took to the merry life of a professional. Judge
shattered baseball tradition after modestly taking
the gift by going in and playing a fine game,
fielding well and knocking out a clean hit. Most
players after receiving a present at a ball game can
be counted on to strike out.

Among the more or less prominent people present was
the man for whom Diogenes, a former resident of
Greece, has long been looking. There was no doubt
about his being the object of the quest of Diogenes
because when a ball was fouled into the grand stand
and he caught it, he threw it back into the field
instead of hiding it in his pocket.

Ray Fisher, who gave up his life unselfishly to
teaching school up in Vermont until he found how
much money there was in tossing a curved ball, did
the twirling for the Yankees and on the few
occasions when he was in trouble his teammates came
to his support like a rich uncle. In the fourth
inning it looked as if Fisher was about to take the
elevator for the thirty-sixth floor, but Frank Baker
came to his aid and yanked him out of trouble.

It was this way: Judge, first man up in the fourth,
singled to center. Shanks was hit on the wrist and
Jamieson laid a bunt half an inch from the third
base line, filling the bases. Henry spun a teaser
right in front of the plate and Nunamacher made a
quick play by grabbing the ball and forcing Judge
out as he was about to score. The base line circuit
was still playing to S. R. O. McBride rapped a
hopper down back of third base. Baker reached out
his bare hand, nabbed the ball, touched third and
forced Jamieson. He relayed the ball over to first
in time to double up McBride, and Fisher was saved
from a serious attack of heart failure. That was
only one of three double plays the Yankees staged
for Fisher's welfare.

Harry Harper, a southpaw from Hackensack, N. J.,
pitched for Washington until the Yankees went to the
front in the sixth, and then he was succeeded by
Francesco Gallia, who hails from Mexico or

The Yankees threatened damage in the first inning.
After Maisel had fanned, Gilhooley was safe on
Morgan's fumble and Magee sent him to second with a
single. Baker lifted a high fly to right field, and
after the catch Gilhooley raced to third and was
safe by half an inch. Gedeon fouled to first for the
third out.

The Senators got their run in the second. With one
down, Jamieson was safe on Baker's high throw over
first, the runner traveling to second. Henry died at
first, and McBride punched a two-bagger to right
center, which sent Jamieson home. The Yankees tied
the score in the next inning, when, with two out,
Magee walked. Baker and Gedeon started a double
steal. It looked as if Gedeon would be a sure out at
second, but he got back to first safely. Pipp ended
the fun by fanning.

In the sixth Baker singled to left, and Gedeon
placed a Texas leaguer back of first, which none of
the Senator fielders reached. Baker was late in
starting for second, and Jamieson made a bad throw
to catch him, so both runners advanced a cushion.
Mullen, batting for Pipp, cudgeled the ball to left,
and Baker and Gedeon counted. That was all, and it
was plenty to win. The score:

Maisel, cf. 3 0 0 4 0 Morg'n, 2b. 3 0 0 3 2
Gil'hy, rf. 4 0 0 1 0 Fost'r, 3b. 4 0 2 0 1
Magee, lf. 3 1 2 2 0 Milan, cf. 4 0 0 2 0
Baker, 3b. 3 1 1 2 3 Judge, 1b. 4 0 1 8 0
Ged'n, 2b. 4 1 3 5 3 Sh'nks, lf. 3 0 0 1 0
Pipp, 1b. 2 0 0 8 0 Jam's'n rf. 4 1 1 1 0
Mul'n, 1b. 2 0 1 3 0 Henry, c. 2 0 0 5 1
P'k'gh, ss. 4 0 0 1 4 M'B'de, ss. 3 0 1 1 1
Nu'ker, c. 2 0 0 1 1 Harper, p. 2 0 1 0 1
Fisher, p. 3 0 0 0 2 Wil'ms, c. 1 0 0 3 1
----------- Johnson[26] 1 0 0 0 0
Total 30 3 7 27 13 Total 31 1 6 24 7

[26] Batted for Gallia in ninth inning.
Errors--Morgan, Milan, Jamieson, Baker.

Washington 0 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0--1
New York 0 0 1 0 0 2 0 0 0--3

Two-base hits--McBride, Harper, Foster. Stolen
base--Gedeon. Double plays--Gedeon and Pipp; Baker
and Pipp; Peckinpaugh and Gedeon. Left on bases--New
York, 7; Washington, 6. First base on errors--New
York, 1; Washington, 1. Bases on balls--Off Fisher,
2; off Harper, 3; off Gallia, 1. Hits and earned
runs--Off Harper, 6 hits, 3 runs in six innings; off
Gallia, 1 hit in two innings. Hit by
Pitcher--Fisher, (Shanks). Struck out--By Fisher, 1;
by Harper, 4; by Gallia, 2. Umpires--Messrs. Owens
and Connolly. Time of game--Two hours and eleven

[27] New York Times, April 16, 1916.

Worth noting particularly in this story is the regulation style of
indicating the lineup and the score at the end. The writer's originality
of expression and his happy choice of individual incidents also add
greatly to the interest of the story. The lead, for instance, is
unusually good.

=238. Football
The following is a typical football story:


It was just as the gray cloaked lads from West Point
chanted in lugubrious measure before the game:

Go-oo-od Night, Nayvee!
Go-oo-od Night, Navy!
Go-oo-od Night--Na-ay-ve-ee!
The Army wins to-day!

They put into the chorus all the pathos, all the
long-sustained notes, all the tonsorial-parlor
chords of which it is capable, and those, as you
know, are many.

And the Army boys, sitting in a fog which in hue
just about matched their capes and caps, called the
turn correctly with their vocal prediction.

It was "Good Night, Navy!" to the tune of 14 points
to 0.

The youngsters from the west bank of the Upper
Hudson were triumphant in their twentieth annual
battle with the midshipmen from Annapolis by two
touchdowns and their concomitant goals, one in the
first period of play, the other in the third. The
count of games now stands ten for the Army, nine for
the Navy, and one tie.

President Wilson, in a topper that got wet, and with
a beaming face that was sprinkled with mist and
raindrops, watched the fight and stayed until the
final wild whoop from the last departing cadet had
sounded through the semi-darkness that fell upon the
Polo Grounds along toward 4:30 p.m.

Mrs. Edith Bolling Galt, who soon is to be Mrs.
Wilson, was present with her winsome smile and her
white furs and her lavender orchids--fortunately,
you could see her even through the haze--by the
President's side.

And then there were some forty thousand others,
whose ranks in life ranged down from cabinet
officers and generals and admirals to ordinary
civilians, who dug as deep--some of them--as $20 a
seat for the privilege.

Yet, do you suppose that President Wilson or any
official was the hero of the day?

We are as loyal a Democrat as anybody else, but NO.

Or do you fancy that the former belle of Wytheville,
Va., who is within the month to be the First Lady of
the Land, was the person toward whom all eyes were
directed during most of the afternoon?

There were considerable numbers of field glasses
focused upon the white furs and the lavender
orchids and winsome smile. But again the reply
is emphatically NO.

The leading character, the person who ought to
figure away up in the top of the headlines, the one
whose name was spoken more frequently than any
other, was a rough, rugged, short, stocky, right
half-back named Elmer Oliphant, who, according to
Army statistics, is twenty-two years old, stands 5
feet 7 inches in altitude, weighs 163 pounds, and
hails from Indiana.

Ollie was the boy. Before the first period of the
game was more than half over, there was a fumble by
a Navy back and an Army man fell upon the ball only
eight yards away from the goal line of the

There was the crash of an Army back against the Navy
line, and just a little weakening. There was another
impact of a cadet against a wall that was almost but
not quite solid. There remained about two or three
yards to go.

Ollie was hurled in. He took the ball, sought coolly
for the weakest spot he might find in a line that
was almost impregnable at the moment, and then,
instantly finding what he wanted, twisted his way
backward through left tackle and fell across the
chalk mark for a touchdown.

The way the rest of the Army boys sank their fists
into Ollie's broad back when he got up, you'd have
thought he'd be in no shape for any other position
than lying flat upon a stretcher. But he came calmly
away from the tumult of congratulation, and as soon
as he could kick the mud from between his
shoe-cleats he booted the ball over the cross-bar
for a goal.

Throughout the rest of that period, and throughout
all the next, we may skip Ollie. All he did was run
around ends for distances varying from five to
twenty yards, and plunge through the Annapolis line
with from two to four men attached to his neck,
arms, legs and back, and tear up, despite these
handicaps, more earth than one of those tractor
ploughs the Flivver Man is going to put on the
market after he settles the European war.

Jump to the third session of the game. This was
scarcely under way before a long forward pass from
the Navy was grabbed on the Annapolis 45-yard line
by McEwen, the agile West Point center. He ran it
back twenty-five yards and when the ball finally
came to rest on the muddy field with half a dozen
Middies piled atop of Mac, it reposed just back of
the Navy goal-line.

Gray dominated throughout the day, physically as
well as sentimentally. If ever there was a sodden,
cheerless, disheartening afternoon for the battle of
the two arms of the service, yesterday was the one.

Luck is with the boys, usually. The golden sunshine
usually glints off the gold of braid and buttons.
The nicest looking girls that ever assembled within
the confines of any particular area of space turn
out and smile and put lofty notes into the
atmosphere with their giddy gowns and hats. There's
snap and verve and pepperino in the very air.

But for the first time in a long while the weather
forbade all this sort of thing yesterday. From early
morning a fog-blanket, wafted in from the Atlantic,
hung over the town. Now and then it rained. And when
you thought maybe it would clear off it rained
again. The good old golosh was brought out of the
spare bedroom closet and placed upon even the
fairest of feet. The old brown raincoat was dragged
forth into the light of day and placed above the
gayest of garments.

No girl was so foolish as to take a chance on the
ruin of her apparel by doing without a moisture
shedder of some sort. And not a general or admiral
or member of a governor's staff or other person
holding the right to wear a uniform was so
intensely proud as to expose his ornamentation
uncovered and take a risk at pneumonia.

It was, as a matter of fact, a pretty drab-looking
crowd that began to file into the Polo grounds a
little after noon. You can't get much local color
out of a gum shoe and a mackintosh....

=The Game Play by Play=

It was 2.15 when the navy squad ploughed through the
mud to the center of the gridiron. The Navy stands
upheaved and the midshipmen sent their battle cry
ringing across the field. Almost on the heels of the
Navy squad came the Army players and a great shout
went up from the Army stands. Each team ran through
signals for a few minutes and then the Navy won the
toss and chose the east goal.

Coffin put the ball into play at 2:20 when he kicked
off to the Navy. Craig caught the ball on his
25-yard line and ran it back ten yards before he was
hurled into the mud. Davis tore off seven yards
through the right side of the Army line and Westphal
skirted the Army's left end for ten yards and a
first down.

Here the Army forwards held and crushed the Navy
back a yard. On the next down the midshipmen punted,
but gained only five yards. Oliphant tried an end
run from a kick formation, but failed to gain, and
the Army punted, Coffin driving the ball to the
Navy's 43-yard line.

Westphal fought a path for five yards, but then the
Army defense held, and Von Heimberg kicked to
Gerhardt on the Army's 10-yard line. The cadet
quarterback flashed back thirty yards before he was
driven out of bounds and brought to earth. A stab at
the line failed to gain for the cadets and Coffin
punted to Craig.

The ball sailed far down the field and the Navy
quarterback had to run back a few yards to get under
it. But he did not get back quite far enough. As the
ball dropped he saw he had misjudged it and threw
his arms up to grasp the pigskin. His fingers
clutched at it, slipped off, and the ball dropped to
the gridiron as the Army forwards swooped down the

Capt. Weyand was in the lead and his greedy fingers
snatched the ball before Craig could get his
bearings. It was the Army's ball and only eight
yards from a touchdown. The midshipmen chorused to
the Navy line to hold. And the line did its best,
but its best was not good enough to throw back the
Army's battering attack. Oliphant jammed his way two
yards and on the next play drove through the
desperately fighting Navy line within a few feet of
the goal line.

Here the Navy showed a flash of power that sent the
midshipmen to frenzied shouting. Oliphant on his
third smash into the line was hurled back for a yard
loss. The next try made the fourth down and with the
cadet band blaring and the cadets shouting
themselves hoarse Oliphant made his fourth drive
against the Navy forwards.

It was a lunge that carried the concentrated power
of the Army eleven yards behind it and it spelled a
touchdown for the cadets. Oliphant with several Navy
players clutching him stormed well over the line for
the first score of the game. He promptly kicked the
goal from touchdown and the scoreboard read: Army 7,
Navy 0.

This was the signal for the Army to break into the
song, "Good Night, Navy." They were still singing
when Coffin kicked off for the Army....[28]

[28] Joseph J. O'Neil in the New York World,
November 28, 1915.

This story may be examined critically--and imitated--for its excellence
in centering the reader's interest upon the football hero, Oliphant,--a
stroke which gives the article almost a short story unity of impression.
The writer's shift from the game and the crowd to Oliphant is somewhat
rough--note, for instance, "We are as loyal a Democrat as anybody else,
but NO,"--but otherwise the story is good.

=239. Getting Players' Names
When reporting a football game, one can
best follow and take notes on the plays by knowing the players by
number. In big games this is made easy by the numerals on the football
men's backs. On the smaller elevens this is not done, a difficulty which
the reporter can overcome, however, by numbering the positions
according to the regulation lineup. Thus:

5.LE RE.11
2.LHB 6.LT RT.10 RHB.3
7.LG RG. 9
1.FB 4.QB 8. C C. 8 QB.4 FB.1
9.RG LG. 7
3.RHB 10.RT LT. 6 LHB.2
11.RE LE. 5

Then in taking running notes during the game, one has to write only, "4
around 5 10 yds.," "2 through 7-8 to 20-yd. line," etc., filling in the
names of the players after each half.

=240. Basket-ball
The accepted method of reporting a basket-ball game
is much like that of football. Because in basket-ball the scores run
high and the relative standings of the opposing teams are constantly
shifting, it is customary in detailed accounts to give the exact score
of each team at the end of every quarter. The following is a terse story
of a game:


The Boys' High School captured the city basketball
championship of the Public Schools Athletic League
by defeating the Bushwick High School on the
former's court yesterday by a score of 18 to 17. It
was the second defeat sustained by Bushwick, the
other reverse being administered by Eastern
District, which, however, was downed by Boys' High.
The ending was a sad one for the Bushwick team.

The Bushwick team showed good sportsmanship by
failing to enter a protest when it was alleged that
the final whistle was blown ten seconds too soon.
The matter was put before Mr. Aldinger, the referee,
who decided the game officially ended.

Boys' High came through with a strong finish. At the
opening of the game it scored four points before
Bushwick finally entered the scoring column. The
game was bitterly fought until the end of the first
half, which found Boys' High holding an average of 6
to 4.

In the second half Bushwick launched an attack that
soon placed it in front by a score of 15 to 9. Boys'
High then carried the fight into the enemy
territory, and, with successive field goals by
Bolotovsky, Gindee and Bonoff, the score was tied at

The score then seesawed until Bolotovsky shot the
winning point with a free goal from the foul line.

The line-up follows:

Fd.g Fl.g. P. Fd.g Fl.g. P.
Bolotovsky, rf 4 4 12 Robinson, rf 2 0 4
Gindee, lf 1 0 2 Edelstein, lf 2 3 7
Bonoff, c 2 0 4 Cherry, c 3 0 6
Brown, rg 0 0 0 Dorff, rg 0 0 0
Ratner, lg 0 0 0 Billig, lg 0 0 0
---------- ----------
Totals 7 4 18 Totals 7 3 17

Referee--Aldinger, H. S. of Commerce. Time of
halves, 15 minutes each.[29]

[29] New York Tribune, March 4, 1917.

In reporting a basket-ball game it is difficult to record the plays
accurately unless one knows the contestants or they are numbered. The
men shift their positions too quickly and constantly. To be accurate,
the reporter should have a seat next to the scorer or else between two
students or friends of the opposing players, so that whichever side
makes a basket or an error, the reporter can get the player's name

=241. Track
Reporting a track meet is easier than baseball, football,
or basket-ball since the events are run off slowly and all the results
are announced to the grandstand. The following story of the 1917 meet of
the Intercollegiate Association of America at Philadelphia is a good


Cornell and Yale, as usual, shared the top honors at
the third annual indoor track and field meet of the
Intercollegiate Association of America, held last
night before a crowd of 6,000 persons at the
Commercial Museum in this city. The feature event of
the early part of the program was a three-lap relay
race between the Ithacans, Pennsylvania and State
College. Crim, who ran anchor for Cornell over the
last 538 yards, beat Scudder, of Penn, by an inch,
the Quaker falling under the tape exhausted. In this
event Cornell hung up a new record for the
collegiate indoor meets by covering the three laps
in four minutes, twenty seconds, two seconds better
than last year, when Penn won.

In the six-lap relay race, where each of the men ran
1056 yards, Yale romped home an easy winner, John
Overton beating Marion Shields, of Penn State, with
yards to spare. Pennsylvania, the third team
entered, finished in that position.

Yale sent an army of star timber-toppers down for
the fifty-yard high hurdle event. John V. Farwell,
captain of the Eli's track team, equaled the
American amateur indoor record by covering the
distance in seven seconds.

Richards, of Cornell, won individual honors in the
sixteen-pound shot-put with a throw of 42 feet,
8-3/10 inches, while Cornell's team average was 40
feet, 2-3/10 inches.

The Cornell entries in the late events swept
everything before them. Coach Jack Moakley's
long-distance runners won the twelve-lap relay in
the fast time of 22 minutes, 7-2/5 seconds, beating
last year's record of 23 minutes, 13-4/5 seconds.
The Ithacans also cleaned up in the running broad
jump with a team average of 20 feet, 9 and 1/16
inches. Culbertson carried off the individual honors
with a leap of 21 feet, 3 and 3/4 inches.

The graduate relay race proved the most interesting
event on the card. When the anchor men of Penn,
Dartmouth, and Cornell started on the last four laps
Riley, of Dartmouth, was leading "Ted" Meredith by
fifteen yards, with Caldwell, the former Ithacan,
trailing five yards in the rear of Meredith. Penn's
former captain brought the crowd to its feet by
overtaking Riley in the last ten yards. No time was
taken. Summaries:

Three-lap relay race--Won by Cornell (Shelton,
Windnagle, Acheson, Crim); second, Penn (Lennon,
Walker, Dorsey, Scudder); third, Penn State
(Whiting, Krall, Enoch, Cottom). Time, 4 min., 20
sec. (New indoor collegiate record).

50-yard hurdles--Won by Yale (Rodman, Davis, Offutt
and Farwell), 14 points; second, Cornell (J. M.
Watt, Cleminshaw, Pratt and Elsas), 10 points;
third, Princeton (Crawford, H. R. Watt, Erdman, and
Buzby), 6 points.

Six-lap relay--Won by Yale (Rolfe, Ireland, Cooper
and Overton); second, Penn State (Shea, Foster,
Whiting and Shields); third, Pennsylvania (Norriss,
Price, Scudder and Humphreys). Time, 9 min., 59-4/5

16-pound shot-put--Won by Cornell (Richards, 42 ft.
8-3/10 in.; Gillies, 39 ft. 11-1/2 in.; Howell, 41
ft. 5 in.; Schoof, 36 ft. 10-7/8 in.), team average,
40 ft. 2-3/10 in.; second, Princeton (Sinclaire, 44
ft. 9-1/2 in.; Cleveland 41 ft. 1-3/8 in.; Nourse,
34 ft. 8 in.; Ginnert 35 ft. 1-1/4 in.), team
average, 38 ft. 6-8/10 in.; third, Penn (Wray, 30
ft. 10-1/4 in.; Paul, 32 ft. 3-3/4 in.; Royer,
31 ft. 5-5/8 in.; Swann, 32 ft. 2-3/4 in.), team
average, 31 ft. 6-5/10 in.

Running broad jump--Won by Cornell (Culbertson, 21
ft. 3-3/4 in.; Richards, 21 ft. 1/2 in.; Shackelton,
20 ft. 10-1/2 in.; Harrison, 19 ft. 9-1/2 in.), team
average, 20 ft. 9-1/16 in.; second, Pennsylvania
(Jones, 20 ft. 10-3/4 in.; Bertolet, 20 ft. 7 in.;
Buckholtz, 20 ft. 1/2 in.; Walter 19 ft. 9 in.),
team average, 20 ft. 3-13/16 in. No third team.[30]

[30] Philadelphia Public Ledger,
March 4, 1917.

=242. Golf
In reporting golf matches probably the best method is to
lead with rather a full summary--a half-dozen paragraphs if
necessary--telling the results, the character of the playing, the kind
of weather, the condition of the links, and something about the
competitors, then to follow with a detailed story of the game hole by
hole. In the following story note that the length, the par, and the
relative standing of the players is given on each hole. Note too that a
numerical summary is made every nine holes.


Charles Evans, Jr., of the Edgewater Golf Club,
twice winner of the Western amateur golf
championship, to-day defeated Ned Sawyer of the
Wheaton Golf Club 2 and 1 in the semi-final match
for the great All-Western title. To-morrow Evans
will meet in the 36-hole finals James Standish, Jr.,
of the Detroit Golf Club, whom he defeated for the
same title last year at the Kent Country Club.

Standish won his way into the finals by defeating
H. P. Bingham, of the Mayfield Club, to-day in a
lop-sided contest, the match ending on the thirtieth
green, 7 and 6.

The Evans-Sawyer duel to-day was a grueling struggle
and from all points one of the greatest in the
history of the Western classic. It sparkled like
carbonated water as compared with the rather flat
matches of yesterday.

Fought in balmy weather under almost perfect
conditions, the contest afforded, from start to
finish, plenty of thrills to the gallery of 2,000
followers. Old timers conceded it the best match
ever fought on Ohio soil. Each player had 74 in the
morning, while Evans had approximately 72 in the

Fourteen of the thirty-five holes were won under par
figures, ten were won at par, and two were ties
under par, leaving only two holes at which both
players were really ragged.

Sawyer shot remarkably fine golf in the out round of
the morning and at the tenth hole was 4 up, but from
this point Evans began to whittle down the lead.
Although Chick got on even terms four times, it was
not until the sixteenth hole in the afternoon that
he led, and the next hole saw him winner.

The score by holes follows:

=Scores by Holes=

=Hole 1 (385 yds., par 4).= Sawyer pulled his drive
into a trap from which he dug only to drop into
another at the left of the green. His chip shot hit
the bank and he was just on the green in 4. Evans
was 60 feet from the pin on his second, but his weak
approach putt gave him a 5. Sawyer took three putts
and counted a 7 for the first hole. Evans 1 up.

=Hole 2 (310 yds., par 4).= Evans pulled his tee
shot, but got a fair lie. His approach pitch was
short. Sawyer got 250 yards on his drive, pitched
eight feet short, and holed an uphill putt for a
win, 3-4. All square.

=Hole 3 (445 yds., par 5).= Two wonderful wooden
shots landed Sawyer eight feet from the pin, where
he missed his putt for a 3 and kicked the ball in
for a 4, one under par. Evans pulled his drive to
the rough from which he made a woeful pull with his
cleek to the weeds guarding the right of the
fairway. He was 20 yards short of the green on his
third and lost, 5-4. Sawyer 1 up.

=Hole 4 (170 yds., par 3).= This hole was halved in
3, the features being Sawyer's 30-foot, downhill
putt and Chick's miss of a two-foot putt. Sawyer 1

=Hole 5 (325 yds., par 4).= Evans was wild again
from the tee, his drive being sliced to the brook
where he got a lie on the slaty bottom. He banged
out a high shot with his niblick, but went over the
green to the rough and was short on his return.
Sawyer was fifteen feet from the hole on his second
and won, 4-5. Sawyer 2 up.

=Hole 6 (515 yds., par 5).= From the high sixth tee
Evans pulled a low drive to the trees. He made a
great out with his mashie, being lucky in escaping
the trees. Sawyer lined out two of his regulation
wooden shots and was twelve feet from the flag on
his second. Evans heeled his long mashie shot to the
right of the green, from which he missed his four
and conceded the hole, Sawyer being dead in 3.
Sawyer 3 up.

=Hole 7 (310 yds., par 4).= Evans left his unruly
driver in the bag and played a cleek shot for the
seventh hole, Sawyer outdriving him forty yards.
Chick's pitch took a bad bound, but stopped eight
feet from the hole. Sawyer's pitch ran entirely
across the green. Evans's putt just trickled into
the cup, winning for him, 3-4. Sawyer 2 up.

=Hole 8 (145 yds., par 3).= Both pitched to the
green. Sawyer putted dead and laid Evans a dead
stymie. In attempting the five-foot slanting putt,
Chick knocked Sawyer's ball into the hole, losing
2-4. Sawyer 3 up.

=Hole 9 (435 yds., par 5).= Both got straight drives
into a driving wind at the long ninth. Two perfectly
played iron shots met with unmerited punishment,
both balls touching the top of the hill and running
over the fast green into a trap. Both missed rainbow
putts for fours and halved in 5. Sawyer 3 up at the

Evans 5 4 5 3 5 5 3 4 5--39
Sawyer 7 3 4 3 4 4 4 2 5--36

=243. Tennis
In reporting tennis matches one may use the following as
an acceptable guide. The summary by sets at the end of the story in all
probability was obtained from the scorer.


William M. Johnston inscribed his name upon the
classic national tennis singles championship most
impressively yesterday, using a forehand stroke that
left no dispute as to his right to the title. The
young player, who two seasons ago was hailed as the
successor to Maurice E. McLoughlin, made good the
prediction by the score of 1-6, 6-0, 7-5, 10-8,
while thousands cheered the vanquished McLoughlin
and the new holder of the highest honors of the
American courts. It was a memorable battle and an
inspiring scene at the climax on the field of the
West Side Tennis Club, at Forest Hills, L.I., when
the two men fighting for a sporting honor, and
fighting with all that was in them, almost collapsed
at the end, and hoisted on the shoulders of their
comrades, with the cheers of the 7,000 spectators
ringing in their ears, were carried from the field.

While the homage paid to Johnston for winning one of
the greatest matches the All Comers' tournament has
ever known in its thirty-five years was sincere and
true, still on all sides there was regret that
McLoughlin, the hero who overwhelmed Norman E.
Brooks and the late Anthony F. Wilding in the great
Davis Cup matches last year, would not have the
permanent possession of the All Comers' Cup on which
his name is twice inscribed.

It was not the same McLoughlin who stood in the
court yesterday that overwhelmed the famous
Australasians a year ago. Time had taken something
from his game, and as ever youth must be served. In
this instance it fairly leaped to its reward. Except
for the first set and the briefest of intervals
thereafter, Johnston was always the master of his
mighty adversary. He knew the game of his opponent,
and as in the ancient days when Greek met Greek, it
was the dynamic power, resourcefulness, and stroke
of Californian against Californian, with no quarter
asked or given. Two months before the two had played
for the Exposition championship at San Francisco,
and at that time McLoughlin had carried the match
and title after five of the hardest sets which the
tournament produced. Then "The Comet" was on his old
field of asphalt with the ball bounding so high that
he could bring off his overhanders and where such a
thing as ground strokes were unknown.

Probably never in all the years of the historic All
Comers has a player displayed such phenomenal
command of the ball with a forehand stroke. There
were many competent judges present yesterday who
declared that its equal was not to be found on the
courts anywhere....

It was a stroke that stood the test, for no less
than eight times in the fourth set was Johnston
within a point of claiming the All Comers as his own
when McLoughlin made thrilling stands as of old, and
pushed the victory on a little further. When he
moved up to the net in the ever-flashing rallies all
the power and certainty of Johnston's forehand came
into action. Alert, with the eye of an eagle that
saw every move and the flight of the ball as
McLoughlin drove it at him with all his might, the
younger player whipped the returns into the corners.
He was like a cat on his feet, quick and sure, never
making a false move. There were times when he
nipped the best drives that the Comet sent over, and
turned them back for passes. Repeatedly McLoughlin
overhanded the ball for what to him seemed a certain
ace, so that he relaxed and dropped his racquet to
rest, as if the point were finished. Johnston made
his recovery, however, and sending the ball back
found McLoughlin off his guard and so scored the

The cross volleys into the corners, the spots that
had proved so profitable against Williams on the
previous day, were the chief bit of manoeuvring
that electrified the crowd. As Johnston played it,
it was as irresistible as trying to check the march
of time. He sent the ball into the left-hand corner
of McLoughlin's court like a bolt of chain
lightning. In order to play the ball with any
success McLoughlin usually danced around it for a
forehand shot, which put him wide of the court.
Calmly stepping in to meet it, Johnston crossed with
ever-increasing pace into the opposite corner. It
was run, run, run for McLoughlin if he wanted the
ball. He was on the defensive, and it was a
position, as in all of his matches, in which he does
not scintillate. So relentlessly was the younger
player forcing the former champion and veteran that,
even when he had glowing opportunities to make the
point, McLoughlin put his racquet to the ball too
soon, and so piled up a total of 42 nets and 38
outs, as compared to 37 nets and 26 outs for his
rival. That was chiefly where the difference stood,
for on actual earned points by placement Johnston
only had a tally of 53 to 51 for the Comet....

=First Set=
Points Games
Johnston 2 0 3 0 5 4 2--16 1
McLoughlin 4 4 5 4 3 6 4--30 6

Aces Places Nets Outs Faults
Johnston 6 8 11 12 6
McLoughlin 9 10 9 7 1

=Second Set=
Points Games
Johnston 4 4 5 4 6 4--27 6
McLoughlin 2 2 3 0 4 0--11 0

Aces Places Nets Outs Faults
Johnston 3 8 3 4 0
McLoughlin[31] 3 2 5 6 1

[31] New York Times, September 8, 1915.

=244. Boxing Matches
News stories of boxing matches are but a
combination of the methods of writing football games and golf matches.
The first part of the story of a boxing contest should be a full general
account of the fight, the fighters, the character of the boxing, the
weight, height, and reach of the pugilists, their methods of attack and
defense, the crowd, total and individual receipts, the exact time of the
beginning and end of the fight, etc. The second part, like the golf
report, should be a detailed running story of the fight by rounds. The
following story of the Willard-Moran match at New York in 1915 may be
examined as an example:


Jess Willard, the heavyweight champion pugilist of
the world, hammered and pounded Frank Moran of
Pittsburgh for ten rounds in crowded Madison Square
Garden last night, but with his advantage of fifty
pounds in weight, six inches in height, and six
inches in reach, the Herculean Kansan could not
knock out the courageous Pittsburgh boxer.

Willard had every advantage throughout the bout
except one flash in the seventh round, when Moran,
with teeth set and the fire of anger in his eye,
made a wonderful rally and showered Willard's jaw
with hard blows just before the bell sounded.

The champion hit Moran hard enough and often enough
to knock out half a dozen men, and after the bout he
said that the only reason he was forced to let up
and not use his famous righthand punch was because
he broke his right hand in the second round and was
afraid to hit hard after that. It was in whipping a
vicious uppercut for the chin that Willard smashed
the hand against Moran's elbow. At the time, Moran
was groggy, and although the seconds in the
champion's corner yelled for him to tear in, Willard
had to stand back.

When the champion's glove was removed after the
bout, the hand was badly swollen, and he was rushed
away from the Garden to be attended by a surgeon.

The crowd that witnessed the bout was the largest
ever seen at a glove contest here. The Garden from
the floor to the upper gallery was jammed until
there was hardly room to stand. Although women
spectators were encouraged to see the bout, few
responded, not more than 200 being seen in the arena
boxes. Well-known men in all walks of New York life,
however, were grouped about in evening clothes, and
gave the boxing match as much tone as a night at the
opera. A few of the women spectators wore evening
clothes, but the greater part of them were clad in
the smart new spring suits which fill all the city's
finery shops.

Financially the bout was a huge success and a
tribute to the enterprise of the Western promoter,
Tex Rickard. The receipts amounted to $150,000. Of
this Willard got $52,600, including $5,100 for his
share of the motion pictures. Moran got $23,500 for
his share. It was an enormous remuneration for both
men for their forty minutes in the ring.

This first appearance of the new champion in the
ring since his defeat of Johnson in Havana a year
ago had set the town talking, and prominent men in
New York and other cities did not hesitate to pay
$25 a seat to see the bout. As Willard was such an
over-ruling favorite the betting was perhaps the
lightest ever known in a bout in which a champion
has taken part....

It was 9:40 o'clock when Willard hopped into the
ring and got a big cheer. He was soon followed by
Moran, who had even a greater reception. While the
two contestants were waiting nervously in their
corners the announcer, Joe Humphries, had the
proudest moment of his career when he gathered the
great figures of the fistic world into the same
ring. Jim Corbett, Bob Fitzsimmons, Kid McCoy, and
John L. Sullivan all stood together and shook hands.
The reception to John L. must have made the
white-haired old man's heart warm, for the old
timers in the crowd who remembered when he could
beat anything in the ring cheered him until they
were hoarse.

In the champion's corner were Tom Jones, Walter
Monahan, and Jack Hemple. In Moran's corner were
Willie Lewis, Bill McKinnon, and Frank Kendall.
Willard's weight was a big surprise. When he
stripped off his green bathrobe the champion weighed
259 pounds, which was ten pounds more than his
handlers said he weighed and twenty pounds more than
when he defeated Johnson in Cuba. It was just 9:55
when "Old Eagle Eye" Charley White called the men to
the center of the ring and said, "Be good, boys, and
break when I tell you." ...


=First Round=

The men met in the center of the ring. Willard
blocked Moran's left to the head and they clinched.
Willard missed a right and left that slid off
Moran's shoulder. Willard landed lightly with the
left to Moran's face and followed with two more. A
left jab was all that Willard used in the first few
moments. Then Moran landed a left to Willard's
chest, and rushing in close tried to get to his jaw
with two blows, but failed. Moran was wary and
covered up as he came in on Willard. He also missed
a left swing that was wild by several inches.
Willard sent a left to Moran's head that jarred the
challenger, and he tried to come back with blows to
Willard's head, but failed. Moran could not reach
the jaw of the champion. Willard missed a right
lead, Moran stepping in close and evading the blow.
One blow that Willard landed clean, a left to the
head, made Moran wary. Moran could not get any blows
to Willard's face.

=Second Round=

Willard met Moran three-quarters of the way over the
ring and they clinched. Moran landed a left to
Willard's head after they broke and then they milled
in the center of the ring, neither doing any
particular damage. They were chary of doing work for
the next several seconds, Willard waiting to have
Moran lead. Willard pushed aside Moran's guard and
led with a left to the head which was blocked.
Willard forced Moran around the ring and battered
him on the head with rights and lefts. The
challenger was almost pushed through the ropes.
Moran missed a left lead that was blocked by
Willard. Moran feinted and made a wild hay-making
swing that missed. He then struck one blow to
Willard's chest that had little force behind it.
Moran led with his left and reached Willard's
stomach, but the champion did not mind the blow
seriously. Two right swings by Moran pounded on
Willard's shoulders and the champion retaliated with
a light left jab to the face. Both were perspiring
from the intense heat of the big arc lights. Willard
seemed to toy with Moran in this round, not exerting
himself to take the aggressive....[32]

[32] New York Times, March 26, 1916.

=245. The Unwholesome in Boxing Matches
One caution should be given
in writing about boxing contests,--the need of presenting the wholesome
rather than the unwholesome side. A report of a bout may be written in
such a way as to appeal to the barbaric nature of one's readers, to make
them revel in the mere drawing of blood rather than in the skill, the
dexterity, the generalship of the contestants. The difference is in the
reporter's point of view and depends not so much upon accuracy of
presentation as upon his purpose to choose those wholesome details that
have been successful in retaining pugilism as an American sport despite
its many undoubted accompanying evils. In the following extract, for
instance, the appeal is unhealthful; it savors rather of the Spanish
bull-ring than of a legal sport in the United States:

What a fight it was! One worthy of Mars himself! The
stage setting was complete to the minutest detail.
There had been quite enough smashed noses in the
preliminaries to whet the appetite for action to its
keenest edge. And the main event was put on so
quickly after the semi-final that this lust for
battle had no chance to cool. Moran led with a
snappy left hook that drew blood from Coffey's nose.
With this first faint scarlet trickle the gallery
gods went wild. A second quick jab gashed an old
scar above Jim's left cheekbone and covered his face
with blood, to the delight of Frank's friends in the
center box.

=246. Automobile Races
Stories of automobile races follow closely the
types of sporting news stories already examined. The following may be
taken as an illustration:



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