Now that Roger Bannister and John Landy have retired, the two best milers in the world today are a lean, ropy Kansan named Wes Santee and a pink-skinned, flapping-haired Dane named Gunnar Nielsen, the two sweat-suited gentlemen at the left. They began a duel last Friday night at the Philadelphia Inquirer Games in such a way as to put track fans on notice that they were going to be treated to the best indoor season in years.

Nielsen had uncorked a blazing last-lap sprint the week before in Boston to win a 4:07.9 mile, and there was wonder if Santee, making his Eastern indoor debut, could cope with it. He could and did. He led at first, relinquished the lead to Nielsen at the half mile and then trailed him closely. A lap and a half from home he brought the crowd to its feet, roaring, by bolting past Nielsen. His furious sprint left the struggling Dane 10 yards behind at the finish. The time was 4:10.5.

"What happened?" Nielsen was asked later. It was not his kind of race, he said. Too slow. He did not like to have to lead.

The next night at the Washington Star Games it was different. There were pace setters. But they led the pack through the half mile in a disappointing 2:12.2. Santee would not move up, and Nielsen would not pass Santee. Finally, almost in desperation, Santee took the lead and tried to run Nielsen into the ground (the last half mile was run in a burning 1:57.3). But Nielsen loved it. He stayed with the pace, jumped Santee a half-lap from the finish, and outsprinted him to the tape. The time: 4:09.5.

Afterwards, a grumpy Santee complained about having to set the pace. "Put you out there like a sitting duck," he muttered. "Everybody taking pot shots at you."

Another runner explained. "You can't set pace and have enough sprint left to outkick a runner like Nielsen. It takes too much out of you."

Nielsen agreed. "I think the man who leads will lose," he said cheerfully. "Yes. If I lead next time, I will lose."

But this Saturday they race in Boston, and if little Fred Dwyer, who likes to set a driving pace, is entered, track fans will be looking for a new record.

In Philadelphia on friday night Wes Santee won the mile. There was no pace setter, and Santee reluctantly accepted the lead. At the half-mile Nielsen, upset by the slowness of the race, passed Santee but ran even slower (3/4-mile time: 3:11.3). With 220 yards to go, Santee exploded past Nielsen, outsprinted him and beat him to the finish line by a 10-yard margin in 4:10.5.

In Washington on saturday night Gunnar Nielsen won the mile. This time there was a pace setter, but the pace was miserably slow (first quarter: 68 sec). Neither Nielsen nor Santee wanted to lead. Finally, at the half-mile (2:12.2), Santee took over and began to drive. Nielsen stuck with him, burst past on the last backstretch and raced home first by 15 yards in 4:09.5.


While other sports hogged the winter limelight, baseball stood impatiently in the wings, titillated the appetites of fans with banquet-circuit and "pact inking" ceremonies and with reminders of past and present baseball heroes.

"Tops In Sports" banquet of Maryland Professional Baseball Players Association in Baltimore seated together (left to right): Golfer Sammy Snead, Yankee Catcher Yogi Berra and Giant Pinch Hitter Dusty Rhodes. Standing is Oriole Manager Paul Richards.

Contract signing at St. Louis brought grin from Cardinal Owner August A. Busch Jr. as he handed pens to $80,000 employee Stan Musial (left), $40,000 employee Red Schoendienst. Observers are Secretary Mary Murphy, General Manager Dick Meyer.

Moving day came for the offices of the defunct Philadelphia Athletics. Roy Mack, Connie's oldest son, was on hand to check the effects of the deceased team. In Kansas City, workmen were busy renovating the stadium for newly born Kansas City A's.

A refugee from winter baseball in Puerto Rico, Giant Outfielder Willie Mays traded his bat for an Alabama cue slick.

Unemployed Joe DiMaggio, out of baseball three years, wistfully announced he would like front office job in California.