By confiscating the winnings, Mrs. Nogard impressed upon her children a most valuable lesson for the road ahead: you can't beat the slots. However, by supplying them with nickels she may have persuaded them that the slots can't beat you, either. But that is another problem, one that will have to wait until after Mrs. Nogard's hearing on gaming law violations.
THE HARD WAY
When she won the French singles championship last June, Darlene Hard wrote Sarah Palfrey: "You have just won another singles championship and I must say I was merely a tool." This was a flamboyant overstatement, but it had some basis in fact. Miss Palfrey, twice a national champion, had coached Miss Hard for four weeks before her departure for the European tournaments, correcting faults in her game—notably, her forehand—and encouraging her to believe in herself.
But after the French victory and three splendid wins in the Wightman Cup, Miss Hard's self-confidence faltered. She was defeated at Wimbledon, where her game began to fall apart, and then returned to the U.S. to lose four straight tournaments she should have won. Apparently embarrassed by her difficulties, she did not get in touch with her mentor. Not a woman to stand on pride or protocol Miss Palfrey wrote Darlene a letter.
"I told her she was playing with a chip on her shoulder," Miss Palfrey recalls. "I said, 'Until you change your frame of mind, you won't win a big one. The whole world is not against you.' And I told her I hoped my letter would make her mad, and she'd prove me wrong."
In the early rounds at Forest Hills last week, Sarah ran into Darlene on the courts and volunteered some more advice. She had spotted two things: Darlene wasn't throwing the ball high enough on service, and therefore was consistently netting her first ball; and since Maria Bueno, the favorite, was vulnerable on the forehand, Darlene should vary her backhand, hitting down the line as well as cross-court.
The advice took. In the delayed final last Saturday at Forest Hills, Darlene Hard put her first service in play much more consistently, bothered Bueno with crisp, down-the-line backhands, and in general played the way Sarah Palfrey believed she could. The result: a Hard victory, 6-3, 10-12, 6-4. Afterward, the winner tearfully embraced Sarah and said: "We did it!"
"Nonsense," said Coach Palfrey "you did it just by being yourself."
PASS THE PASTA
There is no intellectual or sociological problem too complex for that widely known scholar and master of the non sequitur, Charles Dillon (Casey) Stengel. The other day, for example, Casey stepped in where Andr� Malraux, Bertrand Russell and our own Roy Terrell have feared to tread and explained perfectly why there are so many good baseball players of Italian descent. "It's because they eat a lot of spaghetti," said Casey, ripping through to the heart of the matter. He pantomimed a man rolling a forkful of spaghetti on a spoon. "See?" he went on, "that strengthens the wrists, and you've got to have strong wrists to be a good hitter."
SE HABLA INGLES