Word: grassed
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: during 1920-1929
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
Richards-Tilden. Mrs. Vincent Richards was in a pet. It was her birthday and it seemed to her that, even if he was up against long Will Tilden in the final of the Metropolitan grass court championship, her blond, child-faced young husband might have remembered to get her some keepsake. On the way out to the Crescent Athletic Club courts in Brooklyn, she told him as much, calmly but with frigid point...
...smiling, no longer vague, he came up to her with a heavy metal object in his hand. "Here," he said, giving her "Rattlesnake," the bronze Indian's head executed by the late Artist Frederick Remington (valued at $3,500), which has stood since 1921 as the Metropolitan grass court trophy. Richards had won it twice before, and now, after a turbulent scene with long Will Tilden, it was his forever. Mrs. Richards was her happy self once more and they went gaily off for a birthday dinner...
...acres of blossoms pale and adream with the promise of bees and a deathless summer. Often he would paint two or three pictures on the same canvas; starting to correct a defect in a pastoral scene, a new idea would seize him, he would change cows into rocks, grass into whirling waves, and a chip of moon became a mad sun leering like an eyeball in the forehead of a vast, demented skyscape. Nothing made him so angry as praise of pictures he considered poor. Once a financier stopped with ponderous approbation before the worst canvas in his studio. "Marvelous...
...grizzled golf professional on hearing of the scores made on various courses last week. Eastern Open. At Wolf Hollow Golf Links (Delaware Water Gap, Pa.) Walter Hagen won the Eastern Open Championship. The course, a 6,500-yard layout, was an exceptionally difficult one, with long carries, tough sea-grass in the roughs, greens intricately trapped. Two rounds of 72 would probably, the greensmen thought, be good enough to win; such stars as Joseph Turnesa, Emmet French, Cyril Walker struggled to get less than 80; John Farrell, with a 69, declared that he had played the best golf...
...driver of Robert Tyre Jones swung down, flicked a blade of grass, a chip of rubber, came to rest over his right shoulder. Three hundred yards down the course the ball stopped rolling. Jones took an iron, swung it up-down. One hundred and eighty yards, splitting the pin all the way, the ball flew as if drawn on an invisible wire, slid four yards past the hole. Turnesa, watching, brushed his hand across his forehead. So it was all no use, his own fight over the harsh Scioto course, with its clods like stones, no use, the 294 that...