"I don't try to fool anyone by saying we're playing our games one at a time, either," Dobbs added. "We're trying to win 10 games so we can get into a bowl."
Dobbs shot down speed and agility in the line, too. "I'm satisfied to use big interior linemen even if they are slow," he admitted cheerfully, "because it's hard to run through them. If a team can run up the middle on you, the coach has to think about traps and all that other stuff, and I don't like to stay up late at night worrying about such things."
Dobbs's last sally had the Byliners choking on their dessert. "Defense," said the Tulsa heretic, disdaining football's standard gambit of singling out the hardnoses as Saturday's real heroes, "is something you play while the offensive players rest."
At long last someone has laid the blame for the soring—or deliberate mutilation—of Tennessee Walking Horses where it partially belongs, on the judges. In a recent issue of Horse Show, the official publication of the American Horse Shows Association, H. Karl Yenser, chairman of the Walking Horse committee, spoke his mind in an open letter to the judges. "[Exhibitors] are getting tired of being the recipients of criticism which is constantly being leveled at them. In their opinion we, the judges, are doing more to perpetuate the 'sore horse' problem than anyone—and I agree! Far too few judges are judging in conformity to the rules. Overweight boots are overlooked. Raw or bleeding sores are condoned.... The card you hold as a Walking Horse judge ... requires that you judge in accordance with the rules. If you won't abide by the rules—then turn in your card.... We don't need you and we don't want you."
We agree with Mr. Yenser. We hope he can convince the sore-horse crowd to change its practices. An even stronger deterrent is the current AHSA campaign of using veterinarians to inspect horses in the ring during a show. Vets at the Pennsylvania National in Harrisburg and the American Royal in Kansas City netted several offenders who are up for hearings in December.
Remember that Seattle fellow, Ted Griffin, with the obsession about killer whales? Remember that killer whale, Namu, with the fixation on people? Well, they're still getting along fine, but Griffin is a little worried: he thinks it's time for Namu to meet some nice whale girl.
Recently, matchmaker Griffin has been chasing killer whales all up and down the north Pacific coast, looking for the right girl. Helicopters, tranquilizer harpoons, fishing boats, double seine nets and all, Griffin's best attempts have been frustrated. One whale died apparently from an overdose (it's very hard to prescribe the proper dose of tranquilizer for a whale), several got away in fog (still, presumably, wearing orange-buoyed harpoons as stickpins), and one turned hysterical and thrashed herself to death in her pen. Finally, Griffin settled for a 2-year-old child bride. In front of hundreds of welcoming spectators and a dozen photographers, Namu took one look at his prospective mate, sniffed, and headed back toward shore and his human friends.