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November 09, 1964
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November 09, 1964


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"Someone told me, when I became president of the University of Kentucky, that only two things would cause me to lose sleep—football and panty raids." Dr. John W. Oswald said that, and last week he was looking forward to his first panty raid. He had already had the football.

After opening the season with three straight victories Kentucky encountered three straight defeats. Coach Charlie Bradshaw accused players of being "selfish" and "egotistical." "We're going to get back in the dirt, look one another in the face and start demanding more of our kids," he said. Instead of the usual light workout on Monday he ordered a heavy-duty session with spectators barred. "The first 10 minutes," the Kentucky Kernel, student newspaper, said, "were reportedly devoted to head-butting drills. One person close to the team said a number of players were bleeding after the first drill." Four players were taken to a hospital.

After some of Bradshaw's rigorous spring training drills a couple of years ago there was a mass exodus of football players from the Kentucky squad. This time the players remained loyal to Bradshaw. Some of them visited Dr. Oswald voluntarily to defend him. And after investigating the situation, Dr. Oswald issued a statement. "I am now assured, based upon the report of the team doctors, that the activities and injuries were not unusual or unduly intense for a scrimmage session," he said.

Then he got a good night's sleep and on Saturday West Virginia upset Kentucky 26-21.


For many long years Mrs. Mirabel Top-ham, managing director of Aintree, where the Grand National steeplechase has been run 123 times since 1837, has battled and defeated such vigorous opponents as the BBC, the League Against Cruel Sports, the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, the press and London's bookmakers. It has been a running war but for a long time Mrs. Topham, though in her 70s and weighing 190 pounds, showed no signs of running out of breath.

Then one day recently she announced that she would sell Aintree. Not only that, but she would sell it for conversion into a housing development. The Grand National, grandest steeplechase of them all, would be run for the last time in the spring of 1965. It was as if Winston Churchill had denounced the Queen. All Britain, except the League Against Cruel Sports and friends, shuddered and protested. But Mirabel, whose price for the track was $2,520,000, said she could no longer afford to operate it.

The most effective protest was made by Lord Sefton, who held that the sale would breach a covenant arrived at when he sold Aintree to Mrs. Topham in 1949. A London judge expressed doubt that the scruffy old track could not be operated profitably and agreed with Lord Sefton. Mrs. Topham is stuck with Aintree as long as His Lordship lives. He is 65. She is 74.


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