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We Rode Around on Greyhound Buses, and Saw Some Ball Games

But for that matter, the Boy's error gave the A's a superfluous run. The three A's pitchers allowed the Brewers only four hits after the first inning. Rollie Fingers, of the 1890's mustache and 1970's rubber arm, put down a mild Milwaukee rally, a one-out single in the ninth, to end the game.

The excitement on the field matched that of the crowd. Only 9400 fans attended on a pleasant Sunday afternoon. Despite the efforts of a strolling Dixieland Jazz Band and the presence of the mule Charlie O, the team's mascot, the crowd was unmoved by the A's all-too-typical performance.

Returning to San Francisco, we headed for Fisherman's Wharf in an act of premeditated tourism. Boarding a cable car, we rode off as if in a Rice-a-Roni ad.

Our cable car, however, took a Greyhound-like rest stop on a hill near Chinatown. All forty passengers left the car and walked to the next corner as the two conductors repaired the cable and pushed the car up the local hill.

Debarking at the wharf, we joined a horde of summer tourists. Strangely, the trinkets, baubles and waxworks did not appeal to us. Our chief interest was food, our lunch having been typical ballpark fare of hot dogs and beer.

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The thrifty kangaroos who don't frequent the Oakland Coliseum also are shocked by the high prices of Wharf restaurants. We settled for an ambulatory meal of clam chowder, crabmeat and raw shrimp, washed down by fresh orange juice at Fruity Rudy's.

A 40-minute walk through the fog brought us to our temporary quarters. Tomorrow we would take another all-night but ride, for Los Angeles, but tonight we had beds and could sleep horizontally.

Alan M. Kaufmann '76 and Edward L. Trimble '76 spent seven weeks this summer traveling via Greyhound to see a baseball game at each major league stadium.

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