Alright, then, what wag is responsible for the put-on?
Surely a money-man (possibly from a gambling syndicate) arranged an elaborate humbug in to-night's contest. Surely that aggregation of bumblers wearing our beloved red hose is not the same group of gentlemen ball-players who bested the Tampas in yesterday's Inaugural Tilt.
Following a decisive victory that featured all the beauties of the game, the squad patrolling Fenway's scared diamond appeared more like sailors who had recently stumbled from the nearest rum-hole. Shoddy fielding, limp stick-work, haphazard hurling -- muffluism seemed to be the order of the day in this altogether unattractive match for Rooters to behold.
Now that the jest is done, may we please return our fine starting nine to their positions for to-morrow's afternoon "rubber" match?
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