And if that isn't dreamy enough, a mysterious brown stain is creeping in on the flats, and the racing course may be doomed. One theory is that the salt is being dissolved by nearby potash pumping operations. Another, less plausible, is that dry salt and clay are being blown in, since any geologist worth his salt knows that deserts actually move.
Arfons is now back in Akron, fiddling with the Monster. Craig Breedlove, who holds the record (and who was out on the flats last week), wants another try if Arfons regains it. Meanwhile, that brown stain has stolen to within half a mile of the course on the western edge and is getting closer. Hurry up, Art. And you people out there in Wendover—stand by those slot machines.
TENNIS ON THE COUCH
While playing tennis have you ever said you'd rather look good than win? If so, you're being infantile: infants lack body mastery, which is compensated for by the fantasy of perfect ease. At least, so says Dr. Roy M. Whitman, associate professor of psychiatry at the University of Cincinnati College of Medicine.
Freud said love and work are life's goals. Whitman adds play—like tennis—which he says is a succession of developmental phases, beginning with auto-eroticism and ending in maturity, although the tennis of all players is not mature.
Indeed, Whitman sees the tennis court as being rife with murderous impulses that conflict with superego prohibition. "The latent importance of the racket as a weapon is indicated by the strength of the taboo against hitting a player with it," he says, and describes such defense mechanisms as displacement of hostility to ball boys and referees, and periodically losing to poorer players, both of which allay superego guilt. Constant self-beratement, so prevalent in tennis players, also balances guilt for being successful, as well as providing punishment for failing.
"Finally, guilt can exert itself following a victory," Whitman concludes, "as shown by its immediate and somewhat humorous intrusion when the winner umps the net and falls flat on his face."
ALMOST ALL FOR ONE
The dullest, most absurd play in the NFL is the extra point. With the goalposts on the goal line, it's no more an athletic feat than sinking a 12-inch putt. Tommy Davis once made 234 in a row. In college ball the posts are 10 yards back, but even there the conversion rate became so high the NCAA added an alternative in 1958: you could either kick for one point or run or pass for two, and if a coach had any guts he need never settle for a tie. The AFL, following the colleges' lead, adopted the two-point play in 1960.
Thinking the 15 NFL coaches must have found that their one-point conversions had become meaningless, we asked them if they wouldn't like to go for two, too. Hoo, boy! No, they wouldn't—12 to 1, with one I Don't Know and one Don't Bother Me.