Log W= 1.4718+.6748 Log B[w], where W is the sum of three lifts and B[w] is the lifter's body weight.
According to this formula, the 270-pound Russian, Vlasov, should have lifted 1,296 pounds at the Rome Olympic Games. Vlasov lifted only 1,184� pounds. But Dr. Karpovich has an explanation: "Vlasov carried an excess 40 pounds of fat." The formula was willing, but the flesh was weak.
In 1957 Iowa Coach Forest Evashevski said: "The one real value of football is to teach a boy the desire to go out and win.... Good sportsmanship? You don't teach that in college football. If a boy isn't a good sport by the time we get him...we won't be able to correct him."
Evvy later regretted his candor, but most psychologists would support the thesis that character is built at home and in the lower schools. A high school coach, for example, can build character, though not all of them try. One who did, with exemplary results, was Bill Foley of Bloomfield High in New Jersey. Foley died the other day, age 70. He was Bloomfield's football coach from 1915 to 1950—and most of that time taught basketball and baseball as well. His football teams won 207 games, lost 84 and were tied 33 times. Seven of them won state championships, four were undefeated and one, the 1935 team, was unscored upon. (After that season the school's new stadium was named, understandably enough, Foley Field.)
Although the Bloomfield teams were called Foley's Fighting Irishmen, his players often were of Polish descent, and Foley sometimes employed ancestral pride as a spur. In one game in 1933 a dissatisfied Foley asked his squad at half time: "How many Poles on this team?" A good many hands went up. "All right," Foley said, "your mothers and fathers came over here to give you a better chance. Go out and show 'em what you can do." An all-Polish eleven started the second half, and after it had scored three touchdowns some of the Irish got back in.
Foley never saw anything wrong with winning, but he was not engaged in the mass production of muscle-heads. Over the years he received hundreds of thank-you letters from ex-players who had succeeded in a variety of careers. One came from a New York advertising executive who played on the 1932 and 1933 teams, received a football scholarship to Upsala and there won a Firestone sales scholarship that ultimately led to his present position. But for Foley and football, he said, he would not have been able to attend college.
Foley's answer was a fair measure of the man:
"I was very grateful and humiliated by your kind and flattering letter: grateful to have you tell me that my work and efforts helped you in some way to achieve a better life, and humiliated to know that when I was doing that work, that you say meant so much to you, I was damning myself, the school and the world at large for choosing a profession that made of me a crab, a driver, a pest to live with and seemed so unimportant in the scheme of life."
THAT'S WHAT THE LADY SAID
Coach DeWitt Weaver of Texas Tech was talking on his sidelines phone to spotters in the press box, trying to pull the Baylor game out of the fire. A woman in the stands regarded him with disdain. "No wonder his team is losing," she said. "He spends all his time on the telephone."