Let me extend my congratulations to Bob Ottum for his enlightening article, Low Boom in the Land of Horizontal Skiing (Feb. 15), and for his warning to serious skiers from the East and the Far West that the rock piles in the Midwest are for exclusive use of the natives.
RICHARD M. DOCTOROFF
Now just wait a cotton-pickin' minute! I don't know where Writer Bob Ottum skis in the Midwest, but he's really way off if he thinks we ski on "manicured hills, innocent of moguls."
If Mr. O. would take a minimum of 2,000 to 3,000 skiers, send them down the same 2,000-foot run every 10 minutes from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m., he would see that you get not only moguls but moguls on moguls, and most of them are ice-covered.
As to Mr. Trepp's statement that you get in more skiing because you can go down the hill every three or four minutes, I must take exception. On a typical Saturday or Sunday the tow and lift lines are so long it is not unusual to wait 10 minutes for a two-minute ride up a hill that takes 1� minutes to ski back down.
However, despite the long lines, subzero weather and the ice-covered moguls, this skier is very thankful to have a place 20 minutes from her door.
LOIS ANN ENNIS
Really now. In a skiing career which has taken me from New Hampshire to Colorado and points between, I have rarely encountered more skillfully designed or more demanding moguls than at some Midwestern hills (e.g., the Hemlock slope of Michigan's Boyne Mountain). Certainly there are some terribly easy slopes too, but let's be a little more generous to the poor fellows.
New Haven, Conn.
Thoroughly enjoyed your high-speed schuss through the gates of Midwest skiing, but what about our racers who learned their fast evasive skiing by keeping ahead of the timberwolves that kept biting holes in their snowsuits?
Now these kids wear Avis buttons—"We try harder"—and give the competition "Hertz donuts." When Greg Schwartz, 15-year-old Cadillac, Mich. racer, won the National Junior Slalom championship last March at Alpine Meadows, Calif., one of his "flatlander" teammates turned to a dumbfounded mountain skier and grinned, "Hurts, don' it?"
Frank Deford has done it again (Aces Are High in Evansville, Feb. 15). His recognition of the Aces is a splendid tribute to Evansville, Ind., its fine team and wonderful people. There can be no stauncher Met fan at Shea Stadium than there are Ace fans at Roberts Stadium.
Your article actually made me, a loyal member of the "red shirt haters" club, feel a twinge of pride at having once lived in Indiana's basketball asylum.