At this time of year many an office worker sits and dreams of slipping off from work to his favorite fishing hole—only most of them never get to go. Last week, however, the dream came true for 50 anglers at the Bol-Lin Company (makers of stainless-steel kitchen equipment) in Dallas. Their boss, Jerry Bollin, an ardent angler himself, told them all he was taking them up to Arkansas' Bull Shoals Lake for a week's fishing, all on company time. It turned out to be the ultimate in employer-employee relationships. By the morning they started out on their 500-mile safari in five company trucks and seven private cars, toting 10 boats and 2,000 minnows and goldfish for trotlining, the industrious workers had worked extra-hard and filled enough orders to cover the week they had gone fishing.
Another sportsman playing hooky from his job last week was Gene (Big Daddy) Lipscomb, the mountainous tackle of the Baltimore Colts (playing weight: 288 pounds). By the time Big Daddy completes his off-season wrestling tour next month, he stands to earn some $60,000. Meanwhile, he manages to reconcile professional wrestling's patently playful premeditated pachydermic pawing with his own fiercely competitive instincts: "People always ask me about fixes," says Big Daddy. "I tell them I just do the best I know. Not once has anyone told me how a match should come out. About the other guys, I don't know. What's more," he adds, "I don't ask."
On the face of it, nobody could object to the fact that the Lincoln Park ( N.J.) Garden Club wanted to plant a row of lilac bushes. The trouble was that the ladies planted the lilacs in the outfield of the town's baseball diamond, thereby shortening the distance between home plate and the outer reaches of left field to 180 feet. This was all right with the Little League ballplayers, but it caused great concern last week among fathers of the Little Leaguers, who had been known on occasion to play a game or two themselves.
"I nearly cracked up my car when I noticed what had happened," said Councilman Spencer Parnham, in an echo of the cries that greeted Walter O'Malley's fence in Los Angeles some years ago. "We're happy to have the ladies beautify the place, but we don't want them to change the character of the field. This shortened left field will make a home run slugger of everyone over 12 years of age."
"I don't know what all the fuss is about," countered Sonia Feder, president of the Garden Club. "The planting was approved by the recreation committee, which has plenty of male members who understand baseball. It was up to them to decide whether it's a Little League or regular-size field, and they could certainly have told us if we were interfering with anyone's pleasure."
The Whole debate was referred to a future meeting of all interested parties. "They're just going to have to move those lilac bushes, that's all," said Councilman Parnham. "The bushes may be moved," sniffed Mrs. Feder, "but not by us."
Nobody was planting lilacs in left field at San Francisco's new Candlestick Park, but Giant sentimentalists did try to have a piece of sod from the old Polo Grounds put into the West Coast playground.
A two-foot square of grass and earth was flown west from New York last week, but Matty Schwab, Candlestick's groundskeeper, refused to plant it. Might contain weeds, he explained.
Victory by a Hair