Word: slenderer
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: during 1940-1949
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...Slender Lead. It was the fourth consecutive shutout by Manager Lou Boudreau's Indians, tying a league record set by Cleveland in 1903. What did Satch think of his performance? Said he, matter-of-factly: "I'm getting back in shape." But it would take more than Satch Paige in shape for Cleveland to clinch its first pennant in 28 years. The Indians promptly dropped three in a row to the White Sox, and hung precariously to their lead...
...unforgettable, even when he struck out. His swing whirled him around until his slender legs were twisted beneath him. And the times when his big bat did connect were baseball's biggest moments. The spell lasted until the Babe had trotted around the base paths, taking mincing steps on his small feet, tipping his cap to the mighty, reverent roar from the stands...
...studio on the third floor of Manhattan's RCA Building, the Candid Microphone show had just gone off the air. The boys in the studio orchestra slowly began to pack up their instruments before heading for home or a Sixth Avenue bar. One man, a short, slender trumpeter with a tiny mustache, was in a hurry. Robert Leo Hackett stowed away his shining horn, flung out a hurried good night and left. Twenty minutes later he slipped into Nick's famed Greenwich Village jazz-and-gin mill, and stepped to the leader's place on the stand...
Because he is bored with his own, he calls himself by many names: "The Old Man of the Apricot Orchard," "Hut on Chieh Shan Mountain," "The Man Long Separated from the Studio of Eight Ink Stones." But in China last week any of those names, signed with slender strokes upon a painting, were immediately recognizable as belonging to Ch'ih Pai-shih, China's most popular living artist...
...lashed, the dreary assemblage awoke with screams of wounded pride. Imprecations rattled about the hall like hailstones. Angry old men glared and shook their fists at Basso, who stood slender, confident and amused behind the speaker's desk. A ruddy, portly old Socialist waddled up to the rostrum, his pince-nez and a finger wagging together. Cried he: "You are a clever fellow, Basso, and a good orator, but you have used us like doormats." Mopping his face with a silk handkerchief, Basso surveyed the old gentleman, then shrugged and turned away. The Socialist Party might be dead...