Word: golden
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...baseball is no game for a girl. Look at Helen Wills and Helen Jacobs. Why not lead the swell life they do-go round the world in style and just play a few tennis matches every day." Brother Dan bought his kid sister a racquet, shoved her off to Golden Gate Park's public courts...
Alice was quick to catch on. She hit a tennis ball like a man, and nearly as hard. Within two years she had won the California girls' championship. At that point a keen eye noted her. Eleanor Tennant, a graduate of Golden Gate Park nearly two decades before, had been third ranking U. S. woman player when she turned teacher in 1920. Now she was the foremost woman tennis coach in the U. S. Though she got $1,000 a month from Cinemactress Marion Davies, Teacher Tennant offered to take on young Marble for nothing...
Discovered digging with oldtime frenzy into his new job (as general manager of Oakland's swagger new Golden Gate Turf Club, readying its track for next month's opening) was trigger-tongued Edward ("Slip") Madigan. During his rip-roaring tenure as St. Mary's football coach (1921-39) he made himself as controversial a Bay Area figure as Harry Bridges, his Galloping Gaels famed as the nation's toughest, gaudiest, barnstormingest small-college team...
...golden era of 1926-29 the first two years saw Crimson defeats, 12 to 7, and 14 to 0. Finally, in 1928 after five barren years, Harvard came into its own, breaking the drought by laterals executed by the Dave Guarnaccia-Art French combine. The year of the depression saw Albie Booth's strip tease as the "mighty mite" stormed onto the field unsuccessfully to attempt a field goal. Harvard won 10 to 6. Barry Wood and Captain Ben Ticknor made it three straight for the Crimson in 1930 with a 13 to 0 victory...
...martyr amid golden fires Cried out: "While Red Knight fought -with Black, The White Lady, with both their squires, Made the beast with double back; And while the great St. Austin preached, So air grew gold with angels' wings, A beggar scratched because he itched; I perish to amend these things, And while in blazing shirt I stand, Priest jostles knave in the dark street, Better to see my burning hand Fall off, and sputter at my feet...