=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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