Scorecard

The ban was instituted a couple of weeks ago by Kenneth R. Raynor, club president and freshman baseball coach at Yale. The policy was designed, according to club officials, "mainly to keep beatniks off the course." So far it has been enforced twice. The first bearded and rejected golfer blew his stack. "What," he demanded, "if Abraham Lincoln wanted to play here?" He ended up playing at the Webhannet in Kennebunk.

At Arundel it is no longer possible to miss a putt by a whisker.

THE FORTUNES OF FAME

It is unusual but not too fantastic for a swimmer to win three events and set a world record all in one meet. Last week at the British Championships in Blackpool, England, Karen Muir, an unknown from South Africa, set a new world record of 1:08.7 in the 110-yard backstroke and won two freestyle races. Karen is only 12, the youngest world record holder in any event in any major sport.

Tiny (105 pounds) and timid (she cried when she won), Karen's greatest triumph came after the record, when her mother telephoned from Kimberley, South Africa. Karen had shown such good judgment in the race, Mother Muir said, that she could throw economy to the winds and spend her entire allowance.

BEACH BUILT ON SAND

The Riviera is poor in sandy beaches. They run mostly to pebbles and foot-stabbing rocks. In the last few years, though, Cannes has spread beige sand over its stones, pink sand has been carted to Antibes, and when the U.S. Sixth Fleet loused up La Napoule's narrow but sandy strand with fuel oil, Rear Admiral Robert Townsend apologetically offered to have his ships fetch clean stuff from Naples.

Now sand is pouring in to the Riviera. It has come from Miami and Haifa, Tangier and Tahiti, by jet plane, train, helicopter, motorboat, the liner France and a Chinese junk. Several months ago Pierre Laporte, shrewd owner of La Siesta, the C�te d'Azur's most popular beachclub-nightclub, got the idea of inviting each of the great resort beaches of the world to contribute 1,200 pounds of its finest sand to his club.

Except for Barbados, which snooted Laporte, the beaches of the world responded handsomely. There were difficulties, naturally. The white sand from Tahiti's sister isle of Moorea provoked a visit from an Alpes Maritimes D�partement health official. A Tahitian had warned the D�partement anonymously that the "nono," a tiny mosquito, makes its home in Moorea sands. The official took away a sample of sand but found no nonos. A customs bureaucrat at Antibes demanded $80 per shipment, presumably to protect France's domestic sand industry. Instead of being spread and mixed indiscriminately along the La Siesta beach, the various sands were kept segregated and labeled. Monaco's brown sand was found to look and cut like sandpaper. Coney Island sand, specifically requested, arrived with the obscure label "Bay of New York," and no connoisseur can say whether it is the real stuff.

The other day one of La Siesta's habitu�s inquired: "Where's the sand from my country?" Learning there was none, King Hussein of Jordan went off with the promise: "We have a lot of sand in Jordan and I shall send you five different-colored sands."