Word: turf
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...Hardwick, Casey and Owen for adjectives to apply to the Crimson backfield, all those are the reasons for the slight odds on the Crimson this morning. But "What Price Roper and Slagle?" is the question on the lips of Harvard coaches. These two have done things on New Haven turf and in Philadelphia City Council meetings, which smack of the unexpected. Three weeks Princeton has had to perfect those weeks Princeton has had to perfect those unbalanced lines and trick forwards that have belied an early season record before Students of zoology have known for some spots does not apply...
...invading squad of Orange and Black players is scheduled to arrive in Boston early this morning, and will try out the Stadium turf at 10 o'clock. Following a short drill the Tigers will repair to the Belmont Country Club to rest up for the big clash tomorrow...
Well, dear readers, this looks like a very large day. For before the last rays of the setting sun cease to cast a Crimson glow over the Green turf of the Great Allston Horseshoe (not bad, that, for an unliterary person), football fandom will be surprised, yea, shocked, for--but I'm not supposed to tell how Harvard games are to come out. That is part of the scouting agreement that Bill Roper, Tad Jones, and I made; and all good scouts keep their agreements just as regularly as they do their daily good turns. So I won't tell...
...shown more early season offensive potentiality than any Crimson eleven of late years step into its stride today against a supposedly weaker combination and claim rank as a powerful scoring machine? That is a question which will be answered when Captain Coady's men step on the Stadium turf at 2.30 o'clock this afternoon to do battle with the William and Mary gridiron squad. The visitors from the south are smarting from a 35 to 0 defeat administered by Syracuse last week and are anxious to retrieve their 14 to 7 loss on Soldier's Field last season...
Doubling around a wisp of fence, into the stretch at Belmont came a flying clot of horses. People in the Grand Stand scrambed up on the backs of the ramped benches; nonchalance deserted the idlers in front of the Turf Club; they shouted a name that shook itself out like a battle-banner in the grey autumnal air: "Crusader." He-Man O'War's bravest son, best three-year old of the year-was in front. At one flank humped a dark witch-rabbity horse named Mars; at the other a little brown three-year old, William Ziegler...