Of all those who marvel at Stagg's resourcefulness at 98, Stagg is perhaps the most amazed. "Just look at me," he says with delight. "I've never seen anyone as old as I am, you know. When I get up in the morning I look in the mirror. And I say to myself: 'Amos, you son of a gun, you're doing pretty well.' "
The crowd at the 40th annual Saratoga Yearling Sales last week was not large, but it was worthy. It included du Ponts, Vanderbilts, Woodwards, Mellons, Galbreaths, Englehards, Humphreys, Ryans and Paysons. The combined wealth of those present was estimated at $2 billion. In three hours they bought 54 horses for $972,200 (top price: Mrs. John W, Galbreath's $65,000 for a bay colt by Turn-To), a world record one-night for Yearling Sales.
Not all the athletes on the U.S. Olympic team are carefree collegians. Dick Moran and Arnie Demus, the West Roxbury, Mass. men who will represent the U.S. in tandem canoe racing, are, respectively, a $100-a-week welder and a $140-a-week crane operator. They have been working out daily on Boston's Charles River since last fall. "When the ice was in," says Demus, "we'd go down and chop a hole in it."
Last month, instead of vacationing, they used the time to step up their practice sessions, build their endurance still further. As a result, they have won four weeks in Rome, but on leave of absence from their jobs—without pay. Neither can really afford it. Moran, 27, has a wife and three children; Demus, 23, has a wife, a baby and payments to make on a new house. "I think I've got enough saved," says Moran, "but my wife's talking about going to work."
Both men clearly feel the chance to compete in the Olympics is worth the noncollege try. For Moran, at least, 1960 offers the last chance for a gold medal. "I'll be too old in another four years," he admits. "Besides, my wife would crown me."
THE TRUTH REVEALED (CONT.)
Some secrets of baseball gamesmanship (the art of winning without actually cheating) were disclosed recently by Cleveland General Manager Frank Lane (SI, July 25). Now Bill Veeck, president of the White Sox and a man not to be outgamed by Lane, continues the confessional:
"When I was at Cleveland in 1948," Veeck says, "we had four different steps in preparing the infield to our advantage. We kept third base well-watered because Ken Keltner was having trouble with his legs and liked the ground soft. We kept the grass in front of the shortstop long because Lou Boudreau was a little slow. We kept the grass short in front of second because Joe Gordon still had his snap. We'd build the mound up high for Bob Feller, then bring it down for somebody else."
The outfield came in for attention, too, says Veeck. "Before a rule was passed to stop such things, we'd move the fence in or out before each series, depending on what sort of long-ball hitters the incoming club had. It worked wonders."