"Cravath can pat those Spalding berries neater and further than Ajax could with four blackjacks and a bass fiddle loaded with dynamite. If the old boy could hoof like he can spank he would be leading the works so far that the next guy wouldn't be next at all. At all. Gavvy's props are built like a couple of wharf pilings and are just about as nimble. He loses more infield hits than there is tattooing in the navy. Once we piped the old bird stepping out to grab second base. The pitcher wound up like a windmill in a feeble breeze in order to get everything set right. Just like putting sugar on Tanglefoot to snare flies. Same idea. Cravath took a lead that would have landed the kaiser in Paris if distributed in the right direction. He was knocking off 50 miles per hour, but 49 of those miles were straight up and down. Just like riding in a on an oyster shell turnpike. The pitcher tossed a to the catcher and all the time Gavvy's dogs were aimed toward second. He was picking 'em up and laying 'em down good. It was a wild ankle excursion. His elbows were steaming a million, but his insteps were cold. The catcher snapped off a chew of and tossed another fungo to second base. Gavvy was out by a boat length if the boat was the Leviathan. His head was sure full of larceny. But his feet were honest."