Word: moments
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...crowds at Laurel lustily cheered Winooka as he went to the post last week, the favorite in a field of five. "He's a cinch," boasted Manager Naylor. A moment later Naylor groaned in dismay. Winooka, instead of being out in front, was third at the quarter pole, and his trainers knew he was beaten. Jockey Edgar Britt, an apprentice, seemed to be frozen by stage fright. At the last turn Albert C. Bostwick's Mate, a 4-to-1 shot, cut in front of him from the outside, charged down the stretch to win. Winooka dropped back...
Although there are other ways of reducing commercialism in college football and putting the game on a really amateur basis, none of these seems practical at the present moment for one reason or another. The reintroduction of open practice sessions, to which anyone would be admitted free of charge, is a step which could be taken immediately, and would involve no difficulties other than those of making the change itself. If several of the large colleges were to reach a "gentleman's agreement" on this matter, the smaller ones would undoubtedly follow their example, and secret practice would soon...
...reside there to be confronted at table by the question, "Where do you live?" Invariably the answer, "Oh, I live right here in the Union," is followed either by a look of annoyance and the words, "Come on, I don't mean where are you right at this moment but where is your room? Don't be funny," or by a blank and amazed stare and "I didn't know there were rooms here," spoken in such a tone that it is not difficult to see what the speaker is imagining, either some bleak little hole-in-the-wall tucked...
Football breeds courage: where lesser men would have fled Bradford merely sat in his car, waiting for something else to happen. Then from the locker room a sound, very much like loud laughter, caused him to glare in that direction for a moment, then start his car again and drive very quickly from the field...
...Country Club ice-cream, and three long, candle-lit tables, at which stood 250 of Dunster House's finest, waiting patiently for the guest of honor, the imposing dignitaries, and associates who would gingerly descend the flight of steps from Professor Greenough's own lodgings. Just at this moment, the President walked into the dining room through the regular entrance on the court, which, ordinarily would have been perfectly proper had it not been Conant night, looked about pleasantly, and when no one payed the slightest attention to him, straightened his tie quite nonchalantly, as if to say, "All right...