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The late, great Shirley Povich carries us into winter.
The spirit of Shirley Povich, the late, great writer for the Washington Post, was summoned a fair amount as the Washington Nationals wound down the regular season and wound up for the playoffs. We've always felt a kinship with Povich, for various reasons. He was born and raised in New England, like us. He came to D.C. rather by chance for an opportunity in journalism, like us. He wrote about sports, like us. Whether we'll do as well as he did for 75 years is as yet unknown.
We have in our possession a copy of the book All Those Mornings ... At The Post, a treasury of Povich's columns, and we've just flipped open to the one he wrote after the 1933 World Series, which the Senators lost in five games to the New York Giants.
The teams featured in the piece aren't exactly analogous, but the spirit certainly is, and as many disappointed Washington baseball fans go to bed Saturday morning, we think it fitting to reprint part of the last section of Povich's column for October 9, 1933.
Personally, I took it on the chin. After those first two defeats of the Nats I came back for more, in my own stubborn way -- and got it. Oh well, my opinions never sold for more than three cents at any corner news stand, or by carrier boy. So don't be too harsh with me.
Before the series, I was wondering what the Giants were going to use for base hits. Now I know. They used Washington's pitching for base hits. What became of Washington's great pitching? New York base hits, that's what it became. And what became of Washington's great hitting? Strikeouts, pop-ups, and double plays, that's what.
So, I'm tucking my chin behind my shoulder the next time. I can take it -- but it hurts.