Well, you saw what happened after your fine article on tennis (Open the Door, Stockholm! July 10)—the bigwigs decided not to decide. It wasn't your fault, though; keep on trying.
New York City
•Thanks—we saw. See SCORECARD (page 9)—ED.
There is only one solution: abolish Kramerized tennis entirely. Like most tennis fans I am sick and tired of pros and their meaningless perfection.
I am most distressed by your remark that I "thought so little of Wimbledon that I preferred to remain behind in Paris nursing Maria Bueno through a bout of jaundice." I had more than a "lackluster concern" for the Wimbledon championship. I am sure that I am joined by all players in the opinion that Wimbledon is by far the "greatest." Maria's jaundice and my own similar attack were both rotten luck.
Long Beach, Calif.
July 23, 1961
TON OF TOSSERS
I would consider it a great favor if you would let me know the names of the "ton" of U.S. shotputters capable of beating the Russians (SCORECARD, July 10).
Santa Monica, Calif.
•Mrs. Connolly, wife of nontraveling hammer thrower Harold, should know them. They are Dave Davis, 260 pounds, and Gary Gubner, 255, with official 1961 tosses of 58 feet 2 inches and 60 feet 9 inches, respectively, along with eight other 200-plus-pounders: Jay Silvester (61 feet 1¾ inches), Chuck Branson (59 feet 9 inches), John Fry (58 feet 10½ inches), Jerry Winters (58 feet 8¼ inches), Ed Nutting (58 feet 5½ inches), Don Smith (58 feet 3½ inches), Dick Crane (58 feet 1 inch) and Bob Humphreys (58 feet½ inch). Altogether, they give the U.S. track team at least 2,115 pounds of shotput talent to match the U.S.S.R.'s Varanauskas' premeet toss of 57 feet 11¼ inches.—ED.
ON THE BEAN
Roger Kahn's mixture of irony and insight gave you one of the best articles you have ever printed (Baseball's Secret Weapon: Terror, July 10).
Excellent job but Joe Adcock chased Ruben Gomez to the Giant dugout, not to the center-field area.
EDWARD L. MARCOU
In my baseball days, 25 years ago, whenever a pitcher threw at my head, my knees would tremble and the palms of my hands would perspire profusely. On the next pitch I would take a healthy cut at the ball and the bat would somehow slip from my hands and fly directly at the pitcher. I have often wondered why, after a few such incidents, I would more than likely draw a base on balls.
JOHN L. BRITO
In the account of how Mr. Jackie Robinson (205 pounds) courageously maimed Davey Williams (163 pounds) Mr. Kahn neglected to mention what occurred later with Davey's roommate, Alvin Dark. If memory serves me correctly, Alvin doubled but never slowed down at second. Instead, he headed for third base, where Mr. Robinson was stationed, and proceeded to relieve Jackie of the ball, his equilibrium and some of his abundant courage as well.
MARION D. LEWIS
I'm wondering how the man could write such a story without once mentioning the Reds' Frank Robinson, the National League pitchers' favorite 'clay pigeon.' He is always first or second in the league's HPB column and has been hit on the head only seven times in his short (nine years) professional career.
The best way to stop the bean ball is to give the man hit two bases.
C. O. POOLE
SWEAT, STRENGTH—AND BEAUTY
I can't sit by and see you ridicule bodybuilding (Truth and Beauty, July 10).
It takes sweat and strength to build muscles. That's why our country is full of softies.
While only 2% of this country's weight lifters are rejected for military service, 50% of today's American youth is rejected.
ARMAND LA MARR
In listing the forms of transportation to Santa Catalina Island (A Local South Sea Isle, July 10), you neglected to mention for the benefit of private flyers its unique Airport in the Sky—a facility that gives pilots the opportunity to see much more of Catalina than the average visitor.
ROBERT D. SHEKER
•Santa Catalina's Airport in the Sky offers the private pilot a 3,250-foot hard-surface runway and limousine service (30 minutes to Avalon). The airport operates in daylight only (8 a.m. to sunset) and needs two-way radio (UNICOM frequency 122.8 mc.).—ED.
The real reason the trophy hunter (They Kill Them with Kindness, July 10) looks for the big heads and gets them mounted is not to get his name in the record book, not to astound his friends but because he loves the animals and wants to make them immortal. Each of these keeps fresh the memory of an exciting stalk in beautiful country.
Hunter or fisherman, it's good to hear praise of a trophy, but the big satisfaction is one's own admiration. What is as sleek and awesome as a great polar bear or a slavering mako? They are worthy of a wall.
JOHN W. STANTON
Fort Lauderdale, Fla.
The "strictly pure" trophy hunter is, at best, a businessman; the jungle is his Wall Street. He checks the B&C report, and then searches the jungle market until he "obtains" his objective. No sport is involved, no real competition, only tedious searching, with a question of time before the item can be displayed in the animal entrepreneur's office—another addition to the carnival midway motif.
ARTHUR D. AUSTIN
The egocentric, psychopathic urge that prompts a man to satisfy his lust for being a big boy by killing animals for trophies should be resolved on a couch, not in the wilderness.
HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS
Orange Bowl TV Chairman Patton says, "Television, which has been of vast benefit to bowl games, is now becoming a menace" (SCORECARD, July 3). Does this mean that bowl games will soon emulate the splendid example of total TV blackout that Milwaukee uses in baseball? It's a surefire way to make friends with senior citizens, who find it either very difficult or downright impossible to go to a game, and to earn admirers among the avid sports fans who have neither time nor money enough to take them all in. At the same time, TV blackouts perform a "public service" to the youth of our country—by reducing emphasis (and interest) in sports.
If consumers were organizable, a healthy boycott of the bowl games, on TV or off, would curb such greedy motives. As it is, I wish more fans would speak up on this issue, and I sincerely hope SPORTS ILLUSTRATED will be a staunch defender of TV sporting events in opposition to greed via blackout.
ANITA C. BAYLEY
Thank you for the complimentary article (The Boys from the Men, June 12). However, in all fairness to Harvard, I feel I must clarify my statement that "I wasn't too sure of the track program" there.
At University of Toronto I will have many more opportunities to compete at the longer distances than I would have had at Harvard, and I can still have Fred Foot as my coach. But Harvard does have a good track program, which produces many fine performers. It doesn't deserve any negative publicity.
HAIL TO HOLLAND
Three cheers for Gerald Holland's delightful article on Hirsch Jacobs, racing's greatest trainer, and his family and his colorful, outspoken partner, Colonel Bieber ("Sex, Slaughter and Smoke!" June 26). If Hail to Reason hadn't broken down, he would have been a Kentucky Derby winner for the attractive Patrice Jacobs.