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April 01, 1972 - Image 7

Resource type:
The Michigan Daily, 1972-04-01

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Saturday; April T., 1972


Page Seven

SaturdayApril 1, 1972 THE MICHIGAN DAILY Page Seven








Special To The Daily
WHEELING, W.Va.-Despite a
lingering head cold and the blurred
vision of Baltimore mentor Earl
"Mort" Weaver, the Baltimore
Orioles came back in the sixth
game of the World Series to clinch
the title by the score of 6-4.
In the top of the tenth, Brooks
R o b i n s o n, the Orioles' prime
mover, connected with a Clay Car-
rol slider. As soon as wood metI
ball, the Reds, who were the op-
' ponents, knew trouble was in store1
for them.
Sparky "Elliot" Anderson was
quite right. The ball bounded into
the right field corner, scoring
Boog Powell, who hadndoubled and
moved to third on a ground ball,
and Paul Blair, who had been t
handed a free pass by the Reds. 1
Asked if he would repeat his in-
tentional walking of Blair in the.
key- tenth inning, Anderson
breathed deeply and said, "Blair'st
got a ten and eleven and our sec-
ond baseman is a one and short-
stop a two, so we had less chance

of a hit with runners at the cor-
However Weaver crossed the
hard driving Anderson with an or-
dered hit and run play. Robby
drilled an 0-11 and followed it up
with a sterling 63.
The Reds proved that they were
Big League through and through,
taking the lead in the bottom of
the first when John Bench dou-
bled home Bobby Tolan, but Perez
was thrown out at the plate be-
cause third base coach Alex Gram-
mas, the Greek flash, waved home
the tortiose-like third-baseman.
Anderson raced out in anger at
his coach, "Always hold him on a
six, you SOB."

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Orioles, striking like greased
lightning after failing to capitalize
on abases loaded one out situa-
tion in the second, burned Wayne
Simpson, who has had a disap-
pointing series and playoffs for
four runs in the third.
Like all officially approved Bal-
timore rallies, this one started
with a walk. Simpson has had a
prediliction for such wild offerings,
but was really burned today. Dave
Johnson, playing short, doubled
home for swift Don Buford, Marv
Rettunmund, whose stellar series
average was .407, was quite easily
retired. But the Birds from Mary-
land were not quite through.
Powell's single followed by return-
ing star Frank Robinson's deep
blast knocked Simpson whimper-
ing from the mound.
All kidding aside, sports
fans, there's some troubled
l a b o r relations in Big
League ball. Page one, for
those who are serious, has
the full dope.
The Reds scratched back for
single runs in the third, seventh,
and eighth, knotting the score.
During this time Don Gullett and
Wayne Granger toiled valiantly in
keeping the Birds at bay. So re-
markable was the Reds' last ditch
relief work that ten Big Bad
Birdies whiffed.
However the Birds, as the oldI
cliche goes, were not to be denied.
As they have done all series long,
the O's laughed at adversity.
* * *
Though the Reds jumped on top
with a pitcher's duel 3-2, they
could not take advantage of the
injuryto Frank Robinson. Ander-
son was distressed at the. Big Red
Machine's loss of cogs, "Our re-
lief staff, which saved us in the
playoffs fell- apart. While you 'can
blow fast balls past those lunks'
in Chicago, the Orioles are justl
too overpowering. Our pitching was
full of garbage."
The O's are just the greatest
team ever to come out of Lan-
caster, Pa. Although McNally, a
bona fide A, split his two deci-
sions, the Baltimore team rallied
See O's, column six
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FRANK ROBINSON, injured in the first game of the Series on a
41, is seen here resting before his entrance into the fourth game.
Weaver, who averted disaster by an enormous switch, said that
Frank scared the Hell out of him when he slid head first into
Shackelford's famous .. .
. 'Believe It or Not'
al shackelford
SPORTS is thrills, and sports is excitement, daring, frustra-
tions, joy adrenalin, moxie, dirty sweat socks, a girl named
Tamiko. But most of all, sports is people and the stories they
tell. Here are just a few of the best, culled for this very special
April Fool's day:
Bob Jenkins sat on the bench, ripping the nails from his
fingers. Gopher High was down by five points in the Anystate
finals and Bob, its ace scorer, had been thumbed out of the
game with five fouls. He had been set adrift, cast aside, ban-
ished, banned, booted out, cut loose. He was in big trouble!
Coach Harley McAdoo glanced tearfully down at his
benched star and began tearing his hair out in tufts. "Oh
Bobby, Bobby, Booby, Bobs, Bobs," he shrieked.
But pert cheerleader Sue C. Dobbs had an idea. If she
could somehow bribe the official scorer, Bob could return to the
hardcourt and strut his stuff anew for Gopher High. She sa-
shayed up behind the scorer, tapped him on the shoulder and
lifted her skirt invitingly.
The scorer turned around, and Sue gasped. It was Lance
Rentzel !
Three-all, with seconds to play. The Newark Sabres and
the Atlanta Stevedores were locked in a tight battle for the
International Hockey League crown, and the crowd was going
bazongo in the packed ice arena.
Sabre ace Gilles Marseille raced down the ice, zeroing
in on the Atlanta goalie for the crucial shot which might
decide the title. He raised his stick grimly and gave a
mighty slap, sending the puck rocketing for an unguarded
opening in the net.
But then, out of nowhere, a small boy leaped out of the
stands and caught the puck in his teeth. It was a miraculous
feat and, before anyone could react, the amazing boy had jump-
ed through the ceiling.
"That's my boy!" screamed a big man proudly from the
stands, and the whole arena exploded with laughter.
One the ice, Gilles Marseille shook his head laconically and
chuckled. "That boy, he will need an orthodontist," laughed
Gilles. He began gnawing on his stick.
Snuckered way up in Tennessee's Great Smokey Moun-
tains, far beyond the tentacles of technology and progress,
there was a little country cabin. Almost thirty years ago, the
little country mother in that cabin gave birth to a little coun-
try boy, "Little" Billy Cranshaw by name. Remember?
If your memory is a little furry, you might remember
that this little country boy, just plain "Little Billy" to his
chums, did nothing all day but run. He ran up the mountain
trails and down through the smiling green valleys and,
home for supper he, ran his mouth till his family could
hardly stand it.
"Lord A'mighty, Little Billy, shut yore face!" Popp Cran-
shaw would shout, hammering his spoon on the table for
At night when his parents were asleep, Billy would sneak
out of bed for a little running under the stars. Sometimes a
couple of his buddies would sneak out for a little running too,
but mostly Billy ran alone.
By the time he turned fifteen, Little Billy was the fastest
human being in the Big Smokies. Some people used to say he
could run to the drugstore, drink a cherry soda, look through
the magazines, buy some gum and run back faster than you
could say "Pshaw." But then those hillbillies do tend to exag-
You might remember the famous footrace, the one that
put Billy in all the papers. Well, Jessie Owens was hitch-
hiking through the Big Smokies one summer, just out for
a good time, when he saw something whiz by him down
the road.
"Wonder what that was?" said Jessie. He shrugged and
continued on down the road.
Not two minutes later, something whizzed by him again,
going the other way. Jessie scratched his woolly head, wonder-
ing what in hell could go so fast. He'd heard about the Wabash
Cannonball . . .
About a minute later he heard something come whizzing
up behind him and, quick as a cat, stuck out his foot and trip-
ped it. Imagine his surprise when he saw Little Billy Cranshaw
sitting in the dust, a s----eating grin splitting his youthful face!
Well, you remember that Jessie just had to race Little
Billy, fair-and-square and with a whole slew of sports fans
looking on. And, when Little Billy won the race with an eight
flat in the hundred yards, Jessie hung his head and took the
first train back to Cleveland. The newspapers were full of it
for weeks.
"That boy had a hellhound on his trail," said Jessie Owens

years later.
But, as you surely remember, Billy pulled the rug out
from under the whole adoring USA, just when they were all
ready to send him off to the Olympic Games. One day, with-
out a word. Billy iust stopped running.

0's triumph
(continued from column three)
around him picking up good per-
formances from every ball player
who Weaver liked.
But, like Ole Man River, Earl
Weaver just keeps on trashing.
When injury threatened the con-
trol his team had, Weaver, re-
sourceful St. Louisian that he is,
moved his second baseman to
right, Johnson to second, and Bel-
anger to short, and gave his bat
boy three extra cookies.
Let us not downgrade the at-
tempt of the Reds. They strove
hard knocking the pill into the
bleachers many times. But with
Tolan failing to get on the base-
paths in the lead-off spot and May
connecting for only one solid blow
during the series, the Reds were,
to say the least, stymied.
NBA Playoffs
Baltimore 108, New York 105, OT
Atlanta 113, BostonC104
Paris Ukranians 4, Bonn Slavs 3
Jersey City 3, Phoenix 2
New York 23, Detroit 1 (halftime)
Ecuadorian Olympic team 12,
U.S.S.R. Olympic team 0
Xavier (Ohio) 37, Sewanee 21 ,
Montana State (Bozeman) 9/2
Hawaii 83, South Southwest Central
Missouri State 42%, Bellemarine 3/
N Championship Game
}New College 1279, Reed 582
Consolation Game
Antioch 9, Swarthmore 6
For the Student Body:



Ipea Wa/
Special To The Daily

I L-

Roller Derby is a game that requires a sort, of secret senti-
mentality. Like the Summer of '42 it just sits on you like the
foggy mountain dew. Featuring human cannonballs and the
heaviest story ever told, Roller Derby has all the fun of re-
painting Billy Quicksilver's house black.
Last night's contest among the Chiefs and the San Fran-
cisco Bay Bombers was just such an example. When like King
Kong, Indian John Parker crushed Killer John Thomas with
a brutal cross body, the lively fans in St. Souis' rickety Kiel
Auditorium, cried as if their lover had been dissipated by the
tragedies of life.
Roller Derby at its finest was demonstrated when Joan
the Bojes, whose son is currently visiting in New Mexico
skating vigorously at the all-important jammer position for
the Chiefs put a hip fake on her main adversary, Wilhemina
Robertson. Robertson was so thrown that her left maximus
ended up on the railing.
Bay Bomber fans, led by the irascible John "Boozy" Har-
relxon who set St: Louis hearts on fire by breaking a straight
beer drinking record with not once retiring to the rest room,
were cheered when Wilhemina extended her skate into the
left knee of the Chief Coach Blondell. Blondell fell, crumpled
by the low blow. Oh, the gentleness of the American character.
At halftime the game got thicker as Dick the Bruiser,
making an appearance after a thrilling pin of Black Jack
Lanza in the very arena five hours previously, fell through a
canopy of white roses, imitating every third-rate eloping movie
ever made. When "Da Bruiser' fell on announcer George Rat-
terman, Ratterman's wife came to his aid wielding her purple
pump as a mace. Bruiser was then set upon by Major Hofeby's
Little Black Eagles, a scout troop of Hungarians, who belted
him with all the peanut shells available.
What makes Roller Derby the great sport that has at-
tracted the American populace is the over-all, and I think
the word is, Mass. No other sport is surrounded with such
verve, such life, such good taste.
Intermission was the greatest evening of entertainment this
reporter has had since Papa Rinaldi spilled spaghetti over the
white tablecloth at the Baseball Writers dinner. Promising free
identity stamps for all those who would either a) buy the Of-
ficial Roller Derby Program, with the life-sized four by ten
glossy of Roller Derby Immortal, Bob "Scuzzzy" Winston, blow-
ing a trembling opponent into the upper deck; or b) one year's
subscription to True Romances; or c) a Studebaker automo-
bile with chrome.
Entertainment was provided by Leon Stroud and his
Band Retroud, obviously a clever pun on the fact that four
out of five Retroud's once graced the uniforms of the Sal-
vation Army on Christmas day in front of Union Station.
When the fans locked arms and rolled to the straining
sounds of "Cherry Blossom Time," a reporter from East
Guiyana leaned over my shoulder -and said to me, "Son, in
my country we have killed for less."
The second half erupted with a fury that Ulysses could not
have foreseen whilst sailing home from the Trojan War. Killer
Kane, who grabbed a stocking brightly colored for the Bay
Bombers and wrapped it craftily in a square knot. The lucky
head was owned by Roberto Rodriguez, whose brother once
fumbled a drag bunt with three men on base.
Rodriguez survived, proving once again that Roller Derby's
don't die, they become hamburger vendors or used car salesmen.

State Street at Liberty


Gettokoth two of
you before you tbecomeMA
r { 0 OO
Get to know what you both really like.
What you both really want out of life.
Get to enjoy your freedom together until you both
decide you want to let go of a little bit of it.
But make it your choice.
Research statistics show that more than half of all
the pregnancies each year are accidental. Too many
of them, to couples who thought they knew all about
family planning methods.
Get to know how the two of you don't have to
become the three of you.
Or the four of you. Or...

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