A. Bryant & Co. Ltd., of Thornton, England, advertises in The Fishing Gazette:
"The Best Maggots—to suit the angler of knowledge and discernment."
Anglers of knowledge and discernment use worms or dough bait.
Bill Veeck, one of the all-too-few men who truly understand the game of baseball, its players and fans, appeared on a New York radio show recently and recalled as warm an anecdote as we have heard in a long, long time. It concerns Larry Doby, whom Veeck brought to the Cleveland Indians in 1947 as the first Negro player in the American League.
"I can remember Doby's first time at bat," said Veeck. "He was nervous and hitting against a left-handed pitcher. He swung at three pitches and missed each of them by at least a foot. He walked back to the dugout with his head down. He was so discouraged that he walked right by everyone on the bench and sat in the corner, all alone, with his head in his hands. Joe Gordon was up next and Gordon was having his best year and this particular left-hander was the type that Joe usually murdered. Well, Joe missed each of three pitches by at least two feet and came back to the bench and sat down next to Doby, and put his head in his hands, too. I never asked Gordon then and I wouldn't ask him today if he struck out deliberately. After that, every time that Doby went onto the field he would pick up Gordon's glove and throw it to him. It's as nice a thing as I ever saw or heard of in sports."
Eddie Shack is a highly skilled forward who came into the National Hockey League with two imperfections: he had a very large nose and he was illiterate. For two years now, he has been the recipient of some sharp bench-jockeying. When Shack would bust across the blue line toward the goal, inevitably there would come a shout from the enemy bench: "Offside—by a nose!" The kindest remark was "Hey, Pinocchio, don't that thing weigh you down?"
There was nothing Shack could do about his nose, but with private tutoring provided by the Toronto Maple Leafs he set about conquering his illiteracy. We are pleased to provide the following progress report:
The other night Shack's team went against the Detroit Red Wings. The shouts—mostly from Detroit General Manager Jack Adams—began. "You can't even spell," yelled Adams. "You're so bright, you can't even read. How do you spell your name, Shack?"