Word: boo
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...scripts represent seems to have come late in Cardinal Knowledge when an innocent cast member dared to drop a line that even Mary Louise Smith wouldn't have minded: "Don't lie to me! If I want lies I'll talk to a Republican." Great throaty, angry boos came up from the audience (which would have, 40 years ago, marched down to the Trans-Lux to boo Roosevelt in the newsreels...
...Blue, why you telling stories in the street for noth'n" ...I don't know...I guess I'm looking for my brother...he died long ago, you know...and he called me Brother Blue...So if you see my brother, he'll be playing peek-a-boo...and though he can't talk, look at him...make your move...my brother's trying to say 'Do you love me?' ...look around you, people...your brother's you...your brother's blue...
...wanted Johnny Klippstein to break it up with two out in the ninth.) The highlight of that game was Richie Allen's--yes, Richie then--leadoff walk in the seventh inning. He was picked-off on the next pitch. Those were the days when we felt a right to boo. But sometimes we over-extended that right: after hitting three home runs in one night Allen was jeered for striking out in his fourth appearance...
...back on his old-brick patio for lunch, and his wife Margaret, a good-looking woman he calls Boo, joined them. Kirbo, a devout member of the Christian Church, dropped his head and said grace. With his large hands and deep, soft voice, he seemed a little like Atticus Finch from the novel To Kill a Mockingbird-the wise, laconic, just man who knew exactly who he was and where he was. No matter what kind of Washington eminence he might become, or whether he decided to pick up his hat and coat and just get out of there, Charles...
Game time is 7:30 for night games and 2:15 for afternoon starts--get there early for parking and seating reasons, because despite the Red Sox's unbelievable fold so far this year the fans still come out, if only to boo. Ordinarily the American League champion Sox attract the most fanatical and fickle supporters, the bleachers especially, since the most lonely and desperate rooters, as well as true believing young, hang out there. Check out the deformed solitary scribblers with their scorebooks in the right field stands...