`I was advised to allow Robert's team to win.' A.B. Guthrie, captain of the opposing nine.
It's not as though he didn't play so well; for his years he moved right sma't around the bases. No, it wasn't that so much. 'Twas how he'd demonstrate his farmer fists two inches from the wicked umpire's chin.
His teammates were all middle-aged or more and all, like him, loved well-chosen words. To them it was a pleasant way to spend a bright New England morning out of doors.
Robert assumed a more determined stance. Bread Loaf raised a startled brow to hear him roar with North of Boston eloquence, ``Something there is that doesn't love an ump!'' Which weren't quite, quite the words he chose.