The tournament is played in the first week of June every year, and the winner receives the rather striking trophy shown in the accompanying picture (left) and the right to wear a green coat as in the Masters.
As one of the organizers of the tournament and its volunteer historian, may I say your most detailed background of Grey Owl will have its place in our pages.
Your article on Grey Owl once again makes me realize that this is an unusual magazine. Every once in a while you come up with stories that should have been printed a long time ago but weren't. Keep it up. Sport doesn't consist of just hockey or football or baseball players. Grey Owl in his own way was a superb sportsman.
J. R. JOHNSON
FOURTH FOR ODDS?
Your article on the probability of dealing four perfect bridge hands is slightly in error (A Very Big Deal at the Ladies' Bridge Club, April 15). I am disposed to think that this problem was solved correctly originally but somewhere down the line your mathematician must have made an error in the arithmetic. Instead of reading 2,235,197,406,895,366,368,301,559,991 to 1, the last part should read 999 to 1.
For shame! You say the odds against four perfect bridge hands are 2,235,197,406,895,366,368,301,559,991 to 1, when actually they are 2,235,197,406,895,366,368,301,559,999 to 1. This makes the actual occurrence even more improbable!
JOHN B. IRWIN
How many other readers told you this?
CHARLES G. GROESCHELL
?A few short of 2,235,197,406,895,366,368,301,559,999.—ED.
So often one reads something in SPORTS ILLUSTRATED that lifts the heart and helps one to carry on. Hal Higdon's story of the Boston Marathon (On the Run from Dogs and People, April 15) has just done that for me. And Robert J. Morgan's moving letter on boxing (19th HOLE, April 15) topped it off: "...difficult situations must be faced." It is the lesson taught by virile sports, a lesson of incomparable value in life.
I know. I was born privileged. I never knew privation. But from as far back as I can remember, something urged me to a strenuous physical life: running, boxing, rowing, mountain climbing. I still remember vividly the sheer terror of waiting in the track room for a race, the exhaustion. And, worse still, I remember the despair of making a major mountain climbing ascent where two ill-equipped youngsters won through over a seasoned party of older climbers. At 50 I won the "privileges of a private pilot," and that was 22 years ago.
And then, last year, my wife, and ever my boon companion in adventure, was killed by the idling propeller of my plane. And darkness compassed me. The light is coming now again, thanks to the Lord, who I now realize must have steered me from soft living and, through tough sports, given me enough strength of will to face the starkest of all realities, and to stagger on, somehow, like those last runners of the Marathon.
GEORGE V. CAESAR
Harbor Beach, Mich.