THE ROYAL PHILOSOPHY
Despite what they think of themselves—and they seldom think of anything else—college football coaches generally are not considered philosophical or intellectual giants. It was refreshing the other day, therefore, to hear one of them, Darrell Royal of the University of Texas, make some good, common sense about coaching. Royal, who completes the second year of a 10-year contract with Texas when the Longhorns meet Mississippi in the Cotton Bowl, draws $17,500 a year and was recently named Coach of the Year by the Football Writers' Association.
"I'm the world's biggest coward," he said. "I run scared all the time. I agree with Eisenhower when he said just before the election, 'The opposition always looks 14 feet tall.' But coaching is largely a matter of dealing with people and it's a new world every day. I never feel like I'm going to work when I get up in the morning. It's a wonderful profession when you can earn a living and not feel like you're working to do it.
"The only thing that disturbs me about my profession is the fact that people give you too much credit when you win and too much hell when you lose. I'll be the same person and do the same things when we lose, but people won't believe me. I won't change, but the people will."
We commend Royal's statement and hope it will be seen by every coach, college president and overzealous alumnus in the land.
LA DOLCE VITA
Two weeks ago William Patrick Perry of San Francisco celebrated his 109th birthday with a night on the town at Lake Tahoe, Calif. He spent a fine evening playing the gambling tables, ogling the girls and helping himself to an occasional snort. It is Perry's theory that girls, whisky and gambling increase one's longevity. For physical-fitness buffs and for the enlightenment of whatever prudes may be within earshot, we offer Mr. Perry's advice: "I won't say that I win a lot or lose a lot when I gamble, but I have a hell of a good time, win or lose. To live as long as I have, I recommend that you gamble, grab every girl in sight and never turn down a drink."
The other day Charles Comiskey II stood in front of a battery of microphones in Chicago and announced that he had sold his 46% interest in the White Sox to a group of 11 young Chicago business and professional men for an estimated $3.5 million. Thus, for the first time in 60 years, the White Sox are without a Comiskey in any sort of control.
In recent years the White Sox have made as many headlines in court as on the ball field. Young Comiskey became involved in a long and bitter stock fight with his sister, Dorothy, which ended when she sold her controlling interest (54%) to a syndicate headed by Bill Veeck in 1959. Charles Comiskey couldn't get along with Veeck either, and the fans and the team both suffered.
The new combine has an average age of 36, surprisingly young for baseball. (The oldest member is 41, the youngest 31.) We hope that these young men can get together with the majority owner, 47-year-old Arthur Allyn Jr., who bought Veeck out in June, and bring to Chicago some young, forward-looking ideas. Chicago can use them and, most certainly, so can all of baseball.