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Show The Night Before the Battle, as Analyzed by Damon Runyon By DAMON RUNYON, Universal Service Staff Correspondent. CINCINNATI, Ohio, Sept. 3D. Fans looking for tickets. Fans looking for rooms. Fans looking for drinks. Fans who have found drinks. Yes, Indeed, this is Cincinnati. And just before the battle, mommer. Fans from Cleveland, Ohio. Fans from Toledo, Ohio. Fans from Youngstown, Ohio. Fans from Niles, Ohio. Fans from towns in Ohio that Ohio never knew he-fore he-fore were in Ohio. Young fans. Vintage fans. Fans with whiskens which began growing the last year that Cincinnati had a championship ball club. Much jabber. Much walking up and down. Much walking back and forth. Many sore feet. More excitement than the time old John Morgan, the rebel son-of-a-gun, came riding up into Ohio in that raid. Remember? "And rich Ohio sat startled through all those summery days, For strange wild men were galloping over her broad highways." Or words to that effect. Well anyway, Morgan's men had nothing in point of strangeness or wildness, either, on some of the gents who are gallantly riding their "O'Sulllvan's" over the highways of this particular segment of the Buckeye state. Baseball magnates. Baseball players. Baseball writers. Strange Sights, Indeed. A curious fauna, to be sure. The wide-spreading wide-spreading Ban Johnsons, and Til Hustons, the clinging Charley Herzogs, and Johnny Kverses, the flowery Hugh Fuliertons and Ring Lardners, have taken root in every hotel lobby. Not to mention the Wild Bill Phelons, a rare plant indigenous to the soil of Cincinnati, and which sprouts locally every clay, stinging like a thistle, and poisoning like ivy those who dast sutrgest that the Chi White Sox have a shadow of a chance to lick the Cinti Reds. It's a great life if the bankroll don't weaken. Dope favors the White Sox. That gives the Reds a great chance. Baseball elope is about as safe as a sure thing over' the Latonla track. Ask any of the lads how sure it is. Most of them were over there toiiav. Not much betting. Cinti folks want odds. Sox folks don't want to give odds. I.ocal quotations about 7 to 5, but very little, doing. Grover Cleveland Alexander of the Cubs went out to the bailyard this afternoon, put on a uniform and hurled to t fie Reel batters in their final practice. Last time I Grover pitched at the Reds in a league yames, which was only a few days ago, they couldn't hit him with a board. Who should also be throwing them at tho home boys but Jack Pfiester the old "Giant Killer," who lives near Cinti. Jack went out to the yard with Joe Tinker, and both put on unics and worked with Moran's men. Jack had that same old southpaw dink curve that used to have the Giants breaking their backs. Eeuther vs. Cicotte. Reuther, the Red sidewinger. is picked to start tomorrow'. Eddie Cicotte, tho right-handed shine bailer, is expected to be Kid Gleason's selection. Seems to be an idea around that the Sox can't hit lefthanders. left-handers. J. J. McGraw thought as much in 1917. Every seat at Redland field is sold. There will be around 30.000 present. Couldn't get many more than that in with a shoe horn. And the prices! Why, Charley Ebbets and his doliar-an-inch seat was a piker. Just a piker. They snatch six bucks off the box-holders in Cincinnati, and the Cincinnati box-holders apparently don't even feel it. Cincinnati is a dry town. As dry as the Atlantic ocean. Kentucky is even drier. It Is almost as dry as the Black sea. But they don't offer you that Humpty-Dumpty Humpty-Dumpty beer around here, unless you ask for it. Gotta give 'em credit. The reticence reti-cence is out of respect to the memory of that dear departed beer for which Cincinnati Cin-cinnati was once noted. They feel that it would he sheer desecration to hand out the clown stuff. Sox got in this morning and went to the Sinton. Local fans viewed them with great curiosity. Thoy know of the American Ameri-can league here only by hearsay, and a Cincinnatian does not believe everything he hears. Sox worked out at Redland field soon after their arrival. We say "worked" as a matter of courtesy to baseball form. It reminded us of Jess Wiilard in the last stages of his training. Sure-enough Miniature. Some of the Cincinnati papers were so explicit in their tales of the Sox arrivals that they mentioned what the players ate for breakfast. Good thing Sam Yick and Jim Thorpe are not on the Sox. or it would waste a column of space describing describ-ing their matutinal food inhalations. Both Kid Gleason and Pat Moran Issued statements today, each saying- they were confident his club is going to win. What a situation it would have created if one or the other had announced that he felt his outfit didn't have a chancel Who do we pick? Weil, we'd pick the P.eds if it wasn't for thinking how gosh-awful gosh-awful lonesome we'll he in Chicago when the series moves over to that town. A Keel picker is Jake here, hut, heavenly heaven-ly day, what a Joe he'll be in the town next "door to the lake! Great weather. Warmish-like. Txioal weather shark says tomorrow will he grand. Hope he's a better picker than we usually arc. "You rather lean to the Reds, don't you?" asked a gent who burst in on us out of the parched night. Well, we may lean some, but don't nobody get to pushing. |