Congratulations! Dan Jenkins has redeemed himself with a masterpiece of reporting on our Razorbacks and Coach Broyles (Man for the Next Few Seasons, Nov. 8). He splendidly puts into words what all Arkansans have felt about our Hogs for years. We here on the Little Rock campus are just as hysterical and delirious as are the students up in the Ozarks and the fans all across the state. Light Horse Harry and Frank Broyles are heroes here just as much as in Fayetteville. We feel that Little Rock is the second home of the Pigs and that for several seasons this has been the starting point for the mania that spreads like wildfire across the state each fall. Again thanks for a writing job brilliantly done.
Little Rock, Ark.
Like Dan Jenkins I, too, was disgusted when Arkansas' Frank Broyles had to settle for co-Coach of the Year with Notre Dame's Ara Parseghian. Why, Ara didn't accomplish half what Broyles did! Parseghian only took a 2-7 team to within two minutes of the national championship through an easy schedule of Purdues, Southern Cals and Michigan States. Now Broyles, he took his team through the toughest schedule in the nation overthrowing such football powerhouses as Wichita State by the overwhelming score of 17-0.
Truly Frank Broyles was the Coach of the Year, and his great Razorbacks deserved their hard-won No. 1 rating. Woooo, pig, phooey!
South Bend, Ind.
Now we know why Arkansas wins: they play patsies. The way Notre Dame and Michigan State win is more interesting: they play well. Send Broyles's team to South Bend or East Lansing—for that matter, send the Irish or the Spartans to Fayetteville—and the Razorbacks would be pork chops.
MICHAEL W. McCLINTOCK
November 22, 1965
"Arkansas the new dynasty," indeed. But maybe you mean Ozark and Panhandle variety. How can you build a dynasty in a cracker box?
I'm sure the Irish of Notre Dame could handle both Arkansas and Nebraska on the same afternoon.
PATRICK F. BURKE
Had Bud Wilkinson operated on Frank Broyles's patsy theory (ducking four defeats by nonconference foes), Oklahoma's win streak might never have ended. Fie upon you, Bud! Instead of Texas in '58 and '59, why did you not get us games with Wichita State and Hardin-Simmons? Was Northwestern necessary in '59? Why not North Texas State instead? As for that wretched game in '57, you goofed. We should have played Northwest Louisiana State. Bud preferred, however, to schedule the likes of California and Pittsburgh. Thus, on November 16, 1957, modern collegiate football's longest winning streak ended at 47. The Sooners lost the 48th 0-7 to that perennial "patsy" Notre Dame.
MARY LYLE WEEKS
If the Hogs are looking for ways to further soften that already flabby schedule, may we suggest the addition of Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, which finally won a game this year after failing to win 43 in a row.
DONALD A. FOSKETT
West Hartford, Conn.
Mark Kram's description of the Detroit Pistons was truly picturesque (Lost Bullets in Disasterville, Nov. 8). The "hustling but inept gang of track stars who collaborated with Baltimore in horrendous exhibitions of church-basement basketball" must be disheveling the league. In a six-day period the inept Pistons "stumbled" (oops, pardon me) over the hapless World Champion Boston Celtics and "fumbled" (I'm really sorry) to a 10-point victory over the previously unbeaten Chamberlainian Philadelphia 76ers.
If the Pistons should unceremoniously butterfinger their way to a playoff spot (saints preserve us) this year, the "cinder" lads may well earn a Cinderella title—and a Coach-of-the-Year award, requested to youthful Davey DeBusschere.
Better check someone else's basement, Mr. Kram. You might discover better cracks!
From the start of the 1965 NFL season all I have read and heard is that the Green Bay Packers are the best team in the league. Perhaps I am now counting too heavily on the future. However, I feel that it is time to revise this statement to read, "The Baltimore Colts are the best team," for on November 7 they took over the undisputed lead of the Western Conference from the "fearsome, youthful and powerful" Packers. It seems that Vince Lombardi is capable of just so much scaring. One seems to forget that the Colts do not need a scare to win. They have a point to prove—that they are a much better team than they appeared to be in last year's debacle in Cleveland. Whether or not the Colts will be able to get a chance to avenge this defeat, only time will tell. However, time already has told one thing—the Colts are a better team than the Packers.
WILLIAM I. SMULYAN
Yeah, Edwin Shrake is right (The Bears Unpack 'Em, Nov. 8). Green Bay is a "small dairy and farming town"—and Vince Lombardi lives in a converted silo, and the Packers sleep in a rented barn and, already, championship game tickets are being scalped for three barren cows and a pound of colored oleomargarine.
De Pere, Wis.
In that wonderful piece about falconry (Hunters of the Sky, Nov. 8) you tell us how falconers talk and, in a general way, what they are saying, but you don't tell us what the words mean. What exactly is an "intermewed eyas"? Please explain further so that I can talk falcon to my friends and sound really In.
J. S. WHITE
New York City
•An "eyas" is a bird taken from its aerie, or nest, before its flight feathers are fully developed. "Intermewed" means the bird has molted while in captivity. Other In terms among falconers are: "sharp-set," hungry or ready to kill; "rings up," spirals upward to get above the prey; "rouse," to shake the plumage into position; "yarak," keen and ready to be flown; "crab," a clash between two falcons; and "bowse," to drink, a term from which, it is said, the word "booze" derives.—ED.
I have been reading your magazine for about six years and have derived much pleasure from it. However, I wish that you had found room to mention one small-college sensation in your FOOTBALL'S WEEK section. He is John Marchitell of Hobart College, a senior halfback who by the end of his seventh game this season had gained 923 yards rushing in 129 carries, for an average of 7.1 yards per carry, and has practically rewritten the Hobart record book. On October 23 he rushed for a fantastic total of 272 yards in 34 tries (exactly eight yards per carry) and scored three touchdowns as Hobart crushed heavily favored Union College. In addition, Marchitell has already been named twice this year to the ECAC college-division all-star team of the week and has a good chance to gain 1,000 yards rushing this season, even though Hobart plays only eight games. I think that Marchitell and other small-college players like him deserve some mention in SPORTS ILLUSTRATED.
SHOWING THE COLORS
Football has seen many innovations since the days of the formidable but dangerous flying wedge. Playing equipment has been improved, goalposts have been moved back 10 yards behind the goal line, the college marching bands play brilliant scores from musicals instead of the college rouser songs, pompon girls have taken the play from yell leaders, and a team can go for two points after a touchdown rather than just one if it chooses to do so.
Most of this has made for a better and far more interesting gridiron game. However, I have a suggestion that I feel would add to the pleasure of spectators at both pro and college games: the use of two colored flags by the officials, one red and one blue, to help the spectator identify the team being penalized. If the defensive team were guilty of a rules infraction, the official would drop a red flag. If the offensive team were the offender, then he would throw down a blue flag. If both teams were guilty of breaking the rules on the same play, then both red and blue flags would appear on the turf. Under this system the spectator and the often excited broadcasting announcer could immediately detect who had been charged with the violation. Thus, if the red flag appeared, a sensational touchdown run could be called a TD for sure, or, if a blue flag were thrown to the grass, it would be known right then and there that the touchdown did not count and the ball would be returned for a penalty step-off. It might also keep the exuberant old alums from pounding the backs of innocent spectators sitting in front of them before it becomes clear that State's touchdown isn't for real.
ROBERT R. RINEHART