My grandfather's generation shot birds in Scotland the way Mr. Bimson relates it. I frankly can't afford to do so, but it is wonderful to know that such exemplary shooting and hospitality exist for those who can.
Big Bill Russell's picture on the cover of your October 25 issue intrigued me enough so that I wanted to readjust how he "psychs" his opponents in the NBA. After reading the first paragraph, I knew if he can "psych" an SI author into confusing Noah and Dan'l Webster he can do anything.
I am certain that Russell's several years in Boston have kept him in the proper cultural milieu to know that Daniel Webster once saved Dartmouth College (and the validity of charters in general) by arguing before the Supreme Court with the immortal, "It is, Sir, as I have said, a small college, and yet, there are those who love it." Noah Webster, on the other hand, is the lexicographer who spent a lifetime writing dictionaries and defining such words as psychology.
This sample of "psyching" was probably included so that Rudy La Russo of Dartmouth and the L.A. Lakers and one of the rare Ivy League pros would be thinking of which Webster was which while playing against the Celtics instead of concentrating on the basket.
More power to Russell and all the Celtics. They provide a magnificent spectacle as the most proficient organization in any professional sport. Long may they reign!
WILLIAM R. COLLINS, M.D.
New Bedford, Mass.
Thank you for your absorbing article, The Psych...and My Other Tricks, by Bill Russell and Bob Ottum. Naturally, I'm a loyal Celtics fan, so I chuckled with delighted admiration as Bill revealed his "laws." Just one thing. Daniel Webster never stood at the top of the key but, like Russell, he was a master psychologist with a talent for gab. However, the grandfather of American lexicography was Noah Webster, still another New England boy!
I am sure that your recent selection of Lloyd Cardwell, The Wild Hoss of the Plains, as the legend of Midwest college football (Scouting Reports, Sept. 20) was enthusiastically endorsed by anyone who followed Nebraska football in the '20s and '30s and saw this great runner in action. Your recounting of his meeting with Jay Berwanger of Chicago on September 28, 1935 was particularly interesting to me, and it has prompted me to point out that you neglected to mention its climax.
It was late in the game when Berwanger, a heroic figure in a hopeless cause, suddenly broke over his own right tackle, cut to the middle and, with his peculiar high-kneed, half-sitting gait, charged straight for the goalposts and the lone figure that blocked his way. The lone figure was Cardwell, normally a halfback on defense but, on this occasion, the safety man in the old 6-2-2-1.
The excited crowd of 33,000 suddenly became quiet at this direct confrontation of the two stars. Berwanger looked unstoppable. To even attempt it invited suicide. Berwanger swerved neither right nor left as the Wild Hoss warily gathered speed, then charged upright into the mass of pumping knees. The impact resounded in the quiet stadium like the proverbial thunderclap. Both players crumpled flat on the turf, stunned. After about 10 seconds, the Wild Hoss staggered to his feet and remained in the game. Berwanger was assisted off the field.
I may be just an Ivy League jerk myself but, judging from her letter in defense of the Boilermakers (19TH HOLE, Oct. 18), I would say that Shay Kiel (Miss Purdue 1965) sounds pretty cool. My only question now is what does a Boilermakerette look like?