"I felt we were past the days of segregating women in their own sports ghettos," said Kuning afterward. "I didn't do it to play a prank or laugh at women. I wanted to prove, in a perverse way, that women could compete with men."
But race coordinator Jane Allan Bowie denounced Kuning's action as being "counter to the spirit of the race," which she said was "an expression of sisterhood." And Kuning, who says he regularly donates money to women's causes, admitted, "I had my hood over my head and my head down all the way. I guess this will sound sexist, but for 6.2 miles I did nothing but look at women's legs."
A DIG AT DIGGER
During a high-minded colloquium last week at Duke on the state of college sports, a student—could he have been one of that school's notorious wise-guy fans?—rose to address one of the panelists, Notre Dame basketball coach Digger Phelps. Recalling a 75-74 Notre Dame loss at Duke in February during which Phelps became so exercised that he began yelling at Duke players to miss their free throws, the fan congratulated Digger on his "articulate and knowledgeable presentation tonight. We didn't see that side of him when last he visited."
There's no letting up on relief pitcher Terry Forster, whom David Letterman ridiculed as a "fat tub of goo" on TV last summer. No sooner was Forster cut by the Braves this spring than another joke popped up: Have you heard about Forster's music video, Fat Is In? He and it have both just been released.
AND, NOW, SPORT AID
Irish rock star Bob Geldof, the promoter of last year's Live Aid concerts, which raised close to $100 million to fight famine in Africa, was in New York last week to announce a new undertaking, dedicated to the Africa relief effort, Sport Aid. Scheduled for May 17 to May 25, Sport Aid will consist of skating, gymnastics, rugby and other competitions worldwide and will culminate in a global extravaganza called The Race Against Time.
"This'll really be something," promises Geldof. "On the 25th, a runner from Africa will start at the south end of Manhattan and head north with a torch. He'll already have done this in seven European cities during the week—running through the streets there. He'll run to the U.N., and then he'll light another torch. We might use lasers; we haven't decided how 20th century to get with this thing. At that moment, people all over the world will start running. It will be wonderful." Some 50 cities, including the possibility of several in the Eastern Bloc, have already agreed to stage simultaneous 10K races, but Geldof stresses that you don't need a finish line to finish The Race Against Time. "It'll be on TV worldwide so everybody will know when to start," he says. "If you just want to run around your neighborhood, fine."
Geldof's organization and UNICEF will split funds generated through ticket sales, corporate sponsorships and the merchandising of RUN THE WORLD T shirts. "Those are your entry forms," says Geldof. But money is the secondary motive. "This is primarily a demonstration of feeling," he says. "It puts intolerable pressure on those sitting in the U.N. the next day to reappraise how they look at that continent." Geldof is referring to the U.N.'s special session on African economic problems, scheduled for May 26.
The Dublin-born Geldof is not a jock. He usually gets his exercise prancing across the stage as lead singer of the Boomtown Rats, and even this activity has been curtailed since he became a world-class fund-raiser. So, he says, "I'm going to just run around the U.N. block once, then in the back door. You must understand, I usually get up at five in the afternoon."