Word: paces
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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Skirting the crowd-freighted western shore, spurting ahead at an incredible pace in the last 50 yards, Algeron Fitzpatrick retained his championship in the senior quarter-mile dash. Four feet behind him came W. E. Garrett Gilmore; and last of all was the baby bug whose fame was chiefly responsible for making 20,000 people stand at the river's edge that hot afternoon-Walter M. Hoover formerly of Duluth, now of the Undine Barge Club of Philadelphia. But he, in the finals of the single sculls, did what he had come to do. His shiny yellow arms dipped...
...Sumner sitting under a blazing gas jet, swatting mosquitoes, helping arrange the term time-schedules of the college; Sumner, the inactive man, bicycling for his health, in uncharacteristic dowdy clothes, a cap pulled forward so that the bald cranium was revealed behind, pedalling at such a pace that his panting companion could not catch the scraps of conversation flung back at him; Sumner suddenly giving up smoking; asking for a picture of his physician's pretty child, looking at it constantly; pitching at one-o'-cat for his own boys, plunging through the blizzard of '88 to fetch them from...
Free-for-all Pace, 6 furlongs: Single G; time, 1 min. 30 sec.; at Aurora...
William M. Johnston, his Davis Cup teammate and rival, whom he has defeated so often since he took the national title from him in 1920. The score was 6-4, 6-3, 9-7. Johnston stood the grilling pace (which lasted an hour and a quarter) well. He came off appearing fresh, which was more than he did after his defeat by Tilden at Forest Hills last year (TIME, Sept. 8). But he did not have the drive to meet the drive. Tilden said of himself that he played the best tennis that he has ever played at Chicago. Sandy...
...begin with, Lowe was tired. He had already spent himself to take the half-mile in the fast time of 1:53 2/5; moreover, it was obvious that the U. S. combination had passed a word around in the locker-room: "Kill off Lowe." First Cutcheon set a parching pace. Lowe seemed tired. Haggerty replaced Cutcheon, looking over his shoulder at the dark-haired, the Arab-skinned Lowe, three yards behind. So they ran until 150 yards from the end. Then Lowe, as if he had strapped the wind to his ankles, ran past the red Haggerty, won the race...