Congratulations on an outstanding World Series issue (Nov. 2)! The photography is superb, and the opening picture of Graig Nettles is breathtaking.
Chicago Sir:

As an East Coast sports photographer, I've taken pictures beside SI's photographers for the past eight years. My compliments to Tony Triolo for capturing Graig Nettles' diving catch during Game 1 of the World Series.

Baseball action is tough to shoot, but this picture records one of the best line-drive catches I've ever witnessed. As always, your photographers are the best.
Bowling Green, Ky.

Tony Triolo, Manny Millan, John Iacono, Walter Iooss Jr., Ronald C. Modra, Heinz Kluetmeier and Richard Mackson covered everything from Nettles being airborne to Ron Cey's great play at third to Jay Johnstone's pinch-hit home run to Bobby Brown's blunder to Steve Yeager's celebration of his homer in Game 5. My hat goes off to all seven photographers, who were in top form at the Series.
Avila Beach, Calif.

It might come as a surprise to Ron Fimrite (The Series Was Up for Crabs, Nov. 2), but when the Yankees replaced Graig Nettles with Aurelio Rodriguez at third base, they were really putting in a very appropriate substitute. Going into this year, both players had some 14 years' experience in the majors, mainly at third base. Nettles had 1,493 put-outs, Rodriguez 1,441; Nettles had 3,900 assists, Rodriguez 3.897; and Nettles' fielding average was .966 to Rodriguez' .963. Furthermore, each had won the Gold Glove for fielding when Brooks Robinson put it back in circulation by retiring. To even hint that Rodriguez couldn't make a play at third that Nettles could is preposterous.
Oakville, Conn.

Alberto Salazar breaks a 12-year-old record with his awesome performance in the New York City Marathon (A Man Who Is as Good as His Word, Nov. 2), and your cover photo shows Davey Lopes, Aurelio Rodriguez and a National League umpire. Fie! I know that baseball used to be the national pastime but, let's face it, it was a pretty sorry excuse for a season.

How many world records in any sport go unbroken for 12 years these days? Kenny Moore's article was masterful, as always. But Salazar belonged on your cover.
New York City

Alberto Salazar has to be your Sportsman of the Year!

The article on Fred Lebow (The Man Who Runs Running, Oct. 26) made him sound almost monastic, as if he had taken vows of chastity and poverty when he took over as director of the New York City Marathon, and the entrants had taken vows of obedience to him! When my entry form for the man thon was rejected for the fourth straight year, I thought that Lebow must be a #@$¬¨¬®¬¨¢&!! So, for the fourth straight year I flew 3,000 miles to run the race unofficially. It was a truly wonderful experience. The crowds cheered us through the five boroughs, feeding us hard candy in the Bronx and beer in Central Park. I guess it takes a real #@$¬¨¬®¬¨¢&! to put on the best #@$¬¨¬®¬¨¢&! race in the world!
Inglewood, Calif.

As a physician-marathon runner, I applaud the outstanding support provided runners during the New York City Marathon. The efforts of hundreds of volunteers made it possible for the 14,496 starters to get adequate fluids throughout the race. However, your article on sweat by William Oscar Johnson (The Story of Sweat: A Warm Tale Told in an Inoffensive Manner, Oct. 26) conveys a false impression about the risks of dehydration that each runner confronts. While salt supplements in the form of salt tablets aren't necessary and perhaps are undesirable, runners must consume sufficient fluids during and after the race to promote prompt urination. Rather than suggest, as you perhaps did in the minds of some readers, that marathon runners who don't void until the day following a race undergo no health risk, you should advocate that race organizers ensure that each runner produces urine before leaving the finish-line area. Cases of acute renal failure following a marathon have occurred because of uncorrected dehydration after a race. Because a large number of the runners in a race such as the New York City Marathon are first-time competitors, an understanding of the need for adequate hydration is critical.

I appreciated having my thoughts on honest sweat reach the millions of readers of SPORTS ILLUSTRATED. Nevertheless, I did develop a nervous sweat when my apocrine glands noted you had given the title of my book incorrectly. But don't sweat, just tell them it's Dr. Sheehan on Running.
Red Bank, N.J.

There's an incredible similarity in your Nov. 2 issue between the fluid poetry in motion of Graig Nettles soaring through the air to snag a line drive and that of the Jack Russell terrier hauling in a Frisbee (The Mutt with a Touch of Class). In the many years that I have subscribed to SI, I cannot recall two pictures so alike, and of such clarity and brilliance.

As a former rat terrier owner, I can attest to the breed's tenacity and longevity. My dog was 15 before finally succumbing. He was a fighter to the bitter end. In his last year of life, he survived: 1) a six-foot drop into a sewer; 2) being lost for 27 hours; and 3) a 10-foot fall into a concrete basement. Yet he persevered until an ear infection did him in. That dog's courage and spunk taught me a great lesson about living. The story on the Jack Russell terrier brought back pleasant memories and I commend E.M. Swift for depicting the essence of one of the dog world's finest creatures. My old dog would have been proud to have known that he was in such esteemed company.

We were delighted with E.M. Swift's report on the joys of owning a Jack Russell terrier, even though our own dog, Emma Gray, isn't a J.R. but a Staffordshire bullterrier. No matter: The characteristics of the two breeds are so similar that we found ourselves nodding and chuckling at every paragraph. Like the J.R., the typical Staffordshire is both fearless and fun-loving; it is also loyal, affectionate and rough on rodents.

One point: we dispute the contention that a pit bullterrier—more properly referred to as a Staffordshire—is too ugly to be invited between the sheets. We think Emma is beautiful, and she's welcome to crawl beneath our bedcovers any time—well, almost any time.
Ashford, Conn.

I'd appreciate it if you'd clear up a small disagreement that my boyfriend and I are having concerning the picture of the dog and the baby. My boyfriend says that the baby is not real, but a plastic doll.
Sheboygan, Wis.

•The baby is real. In fact, it's Photographer Stephen Green-Armytage's son, James, who was 2 months old when the picture was shot with the family's Jack Russell, Dudley.—ED.

I don't know what all the fuss is about. We have an 8-year-old wirehaired fox terrier named Marnie. She hunts mice, turtles, snakes and birds and crawls down groundhog holes. She talks—and curses. She follows our moods exactly: When we are calm, she's a lover; when we are crazy, she joins in the fun. She loves the outdoors, yet stays in her territory. She plays with people and dogs and cuddles like a baby—under the covers, of course. She likes carrots, watermelon, cantaloupe and yogurt. And she smiles and communicates with her ears. Now what were you saying about the unspoiled Jack Russell?
Kutztown, Pa.

I thought my Erin, who's just pure dog, was unique in her ability to smile. She can't keep a straight face after hearing a chicken joke.
New York City

I found your comments regarding the Jack Russell terrier's lack of inherited defects a little too "dogmatic." Granted, inbreeding has been responsible for a good many undesirable physical traits in other dogs, and the Jack Russell terrier, to date, seems to be minimally affected. However, there is one condition, myasthenia gravis, for which the Jack Russell terrier breed is overly represented.

Myasthenia gravis is a neuromuscular disorder characterized by severe muscle weakness after exercise. The majority of cases are acquired, but the Jack Russell terrier is one breed where the disease is apparently inherited. So don't be too smug in declaring, "Look what they did to the cocker!" People may be saying the same about the Jack Russell terrier in future years.
New York City

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