The New York herald., 1922-10-06

and the boxes have as little appreciation
as Marie Antoinette had OF the rae = q
pickers of Monmartre, see life through
the little end of the glass. Maybe watch
ing a baseball game from afar is cui-
tivated taste 1t may be q thing the
grows on you. But the diamond in theti
deep distance, players. the aris.ocracy in
the stands, all seem so small and trivial q
Groh standing Zip for batting practice.
looks like a Dutch doll. Even the POM
derous Ruth is not easily identihable
This Is getting ones thrills at long dis
tance. y
But so much seems To be missed by.
us bleacherites. We are not getting ourSt
share of the entertainment, quite OBJ
viously. But the Comomn People so
seldom do. There are the genuine. i'm
ported Brazilian nuts Altrock and
Schact, playing their perfectly idotic %
but uproariously funny game OF checkers
with apples for pieces and the green
grass for a board--play ying It in from
OF the expensive grand stand filled with
the rich and important, not out here we.
born of poor but honest parents, eau.
give them the once over.
Very far away, too. see the Sew snth =
Regiment Band in its attractive uniform
of steel gray coats with Sam Browne.
belts and gold trappings. coats cut as ~
witty bleacherite remarks. like y
robn"-and you get what he means. i
The Seventh Regiment makes music forG
the Yanks, this being the honneday Of
the American League champion, andV
Conway's band titillatese the ambient
when the Giants are technical hosts.
Too much of the Alphonse and CASTOR
stuff. Not enough near homicide, ear
biting, rough stuff that makes life
really dlvertng. The band Is playing ,
1.-THE Sheik.' a peach OF a dance tune.
by the way. and then hops to THE
Twelfth Street Rag" also one to sling a
wicked foot to- and the strains of the y
music float out very sweetly. very softly.
~ ugly, brassy blare quite missing. We
b sacherites win heres though the op-
pr,ssoN Of the poor didn't mean to give
us q point.
Giants Come on Field.
The Giants come through their hole in
the fence. not far away from US roostei~. 6.
Comes u rataplan OF calls: Hey. Me- =
Graw. Who yuh going to pitch, Barnes? 49, >
"Hey, Muggsy tBow McGraw detests
that ancient appellation y can you clean
'em up four straight" "Give us the "
lowdown--are the Giants in?" Hello, =
Kelly! Why don't you hit. you poo"
fish?' What do you use that bat for, <
stir your soup?' "Oh you frankie
Frisch.' Hey, Snyder. who told you !,
you could ht?" The Giants, visitors to-
day. sweep across the field big fellows.
with very few exceptions, mildly at the
heels Of the short fat man with gray.
hair, McGraw, hailed as baseball's super
superior thinker. Presently out come
the Yanks with heads up. Their beating
of yesterday hasn't taken the heart out y
of them, that's sure. This Is an aggre-"
CATION, one feels. that will take lot of
whaling. Higgins, in uniform, takes
lot OF guying and good deal more or
praise and compliment. Stay with EN-, 4
Hug "You can beat that bunch of :
buns And the Babe gets his. Ruth
in all his life has never been so razzed
as this year when he got off on the,
wrong foot He takes it good naturedly'
for he is learning to know that when he
smashes out a home run he is the Biz
Bam but that when he strikes out he Is
merely big bum, with the crowd.
Bleacherites Are Thrilled.
The game has thrills for us bleacher-,.
ties who love the rough stuff and crave
homeruns. Along comes the Giant
Meusel, Emil. in Inning One, and Emil
doesn't do thing but smash the Dali
clear into the left field bleachers. Pass 8
ing our arc Of vision it looked like a 2
titanic stroke brought more cheers than
groans from this lowly part of the
world, for merit is sometimes applauded
even by Americans. But there are lots
of Yankee groans. There is renewed
talk Of the fatal Indian sign. the Curl
GUS mental superiority which one team ,
occasionally obtains over another
The next big thrill Is also In this
inning. when Jumping Joe Dugan
flashes home with run. Then comes
the third with a long home run into
the left field bleachers duplicating Meu-
sells stroke. And again in the eighth
we shout some. caper some as Bob
Meusel lams out two Dagger, scoring
a pal, tying the score. We hope, OF
course. as the ninth inning is passed
that the game will go on to its uttl-
mate conclusion. but this is not to be
The powers say il will be played off
tomorrow, but as a new game, no rain
checks boys And how we groan as this
intelligence filters through our strong
hold--groan and gibe. But II gets us
nowhere. And tomorrow is another