Well, you saw what happened after your fine article on tennis (Open the Door, Stockholm! July 10)—the bigwigs decided not to decide. It wasn't your fault, though; keep on trying.
New York City
?Thanks—we saw. See SCORECARD (page 9)—ED.
There is only one solution: abolish Kramerized tennis entirely. Like most tennis fans I am sick and tired of pros and their meaningless perfection.
I am most distressed by your remark that I "thought so little of Wimbledon that I preferred to remain behind in Paris nursing Maria Bueno through a bout of jaundice." I had more than a "lackluster concern" for the Wimbledon championship. I am sure that I am joined by all players in the opinion that Wimbledon is by far the "greatest." Maria's jaundice and my own similar attack were both rotten luck.
Long Beach, Calif.
TON OF TOSSERS
I would consider it a great favor if you would let me know the names of the "ton" of U.S. shotputters capable of beating the Russians (SCORECARD, July 10).
Santa Monica, Calif.
?Mrs. Connolly, wife of nontraveling hammer thrower Harold, should know them. They are Dave Davis, 260 pounds, and Gary Gubner, 255, with official 1961 tosses of 58 feet 2 inches and 60 feet 9 inches, respectively, along with eight other 200-plus-pounders: Jay Silvester (61 feet 1� inches), Chuck Branson (59 feet 9 inches), John Fry (58 feet 10� inches), Jerry Winters (58 feet 8� inches), Ed Nutting (58 feet 5� inches), Don Smith (58 feet 3� inches), Dick Crane (58 feet 1 inch) and Bob Humphreys (58 feet� inch). Altogether, they give the U.S. track team at least 2,115 pounds of shotput talent to match the U.S.S.R.'s Varanauskas' premeet toss of 57 feet 11� inches.—ED.
ON THE BEAN
Roger Kahn's mixture of irony and insight gave you one of the best articles you have ever printed (Baseball's Secret Weapon: Terror, July 10).
Excellent job but Joe Adcock chased Ruben Gomez to the Giant dugout, not to the center-field area.
EDWARD L. MARCOU
In my baseball days, 25 years ago, whenever a pitcher threw at my head, my knees would tremble and the palms of my hands would perspire profusely. On the next pitch I would take a healthy cut at the ball and the bat would somehow slip from my hands and fly directly at the pitcher. I have often wondered why, after a few such incidents, I would more than likely draw a base on balls.
JOHN L. BRITO
In the account of how Mr. Jackie Robinson (205 pounds) courageously maimed Davey Williams (163 pounds) Mr. Kahn neglected to mention what occurred later with Davey's roommate, Alvin Dark. If memory serves me correctly, Alvin doubled but never slowed down at second. Instead, he headed for third base, where Mr. Robinson was stationed, and proceeded to relieve Jackie of the ball, his equilibrium and some of his abundant courage as well.
MARION D. LEWIS