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Manager Will Carfare of the poonmen pulled what he thought was a fasty on the CRIMSON yesterday afternoon when he decided to hurl the annual baseball clash himself. But his tactical master piece backfired, and the legit editors drove him to a shower of beer as they batted out between 50 and 60 hits to tally 23 times. Meanwhile the funny fellows just fanned and fanned but were finally presented with two makers for tradition's sake.
The contestants were driven to the field in a pair of coaches-and-twos, which were put on the cuff as far as Lampoon remuneration goes. Once on the field, doughty Carfare organized his cohorts, including 17 infielders, and teed the slab. At first he experienced difficulty with his control and walked some 14 men. Her he steadied down and got the ball over the plate.
Base Hits Abound
He made the mistake of getting it over the plate to such a group of muscle merchants as Frisco Caspar, Flung Huey, and Greg Grupp. Bevies of base hits bounded through, around, and over such 'poon boys as Utrid, Tink, Poop, Twit, and Cuddlepoop. Since Feller missed his traveling connections, the entire CRIMSON executive board bore mound burdens.
It was just a question of time before the jesters lost heart, but they had one more ace in the hole. With a shrieking Indian warery they set out for the Varsity field looking for men to plug their gaps. They were unable to corral the services of E. Ingalls, U. Lupien, and others on which their hearts were set, but they did succeed in getting pointers on the national pastime by smiling Fred Mitchell himself. It made no difference, though, and the losers trudged home wiser men, as the poet says.
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