The incredulous expression on British Actor Terry-Thomas' face as he considers American Actress Carroll Baker's bowling (below) says virtually all there is to say about the cricket match in Santa Monica last week, though it might be nice to add that it was for a good cause. "It was just a mess," said a London Daily Express correspondent of the match he helped organize between an all-star cricket team (alias Jack Hanson's Daisy Softball Team) and Los Angeles' Corinthian Cricket Club. The mess, which the All-Stars won because the Corinthian Cricket Club let them win, did raise some $3,500 for the Aberfan, Wales disaster fund, but Richard Harris, Milton Berle, Joan Collins and Stuart Whitman, among others, did not do much toward converting the California masses to cricket. Joan Collins bowled first to the Corinthians. Everybody laughed. Richard Harris who, being English, ought to have managed better, fell on his own wicket. Milton Berle was not allowed to use his baseball bat, and Carroll Baker was not allowed to bat at all. "I practiced this morning," she said, "but they didn't let me bat in the game. I think they thought nothing would come of it," she added astutely. Spectator James Mason summed it all up when someone asked whether he had enjoyed the game, and he answered, "What a silly question. It was not a game at all, it was just fun." So it was, and anyway, in these circumstances, not the play but the money's the thing.
The Kentucky Derby is still rather a way off, and owners and trainers do not even know what horses will be running. Nevertheless, Dame Sybil Leek may know what horse is going to win, because Dame Sybil is a witch. She has been in the witch game since 1939, and commanded 800 properly initiated witches and 8,000 informal followers in England until she came to the United States two years ago. Now, she says, "I am the major liaison for all the witches in the world." The major liaison for all the witches in the world has become increasingly interested in horse racing, and she plans to focus her psychic powers on the Derby this coming year. To all ye of little faith she points out tartly, "A few years ago I executed one of my lesser-known feats of witchcraft at Ascot. I picked six out of six races."
He looked like a bad guy. He was bearded, ominously clad in black Levis and boots, a black jacket and German army helmet complete with swastika, and he carried a sawed-off shotgun. Then he blew the whole thing—he winced when he gunned down three cops. Ex-light-heavyweight Champ Willie Pastrano was making his first movie, an epic to be called Wild Rebel, and he was confident at the outset. "I've always been an actor," he said cheerfully. "Look at all the years I fooled the public into thinking I was a fighter." But not a gun-fighter, it seems. Willie had a rough time with that sawed-off shotgun, and finally he asked plaintively, "Couldn't I just kinda punch them in the nose?" "No," came the heartless answer. "Because if you hit them they might not fall down."
Meanwhile, in Spain, another earnest soul was having trouble turning in a tough enough performance. At the Count of Montarco's bull ranch in Salamanca, 22-year-old Maria Beatrice di Savoia, princess of Italy, was fighting a "small but spirited" heifer. The princess, on horseback, helped separate the heifer from the herd with a pica and dismounted to face it with cape and muleta. Her performance in the ring was tactfully described as "sprightly," but it was difficult to find a dignified way to report that later, attempting to take a victory drink from a wineskin, she squirted wine all over her forehead and that, still later, she was thrown from a burro to sprawl unregally in the Spanish dust. A good game girl, Princess Maria Beatrice, but she may be retired to the ballroom.
Displaying good form and an excellent mustache, French Film Star Jean-Paul Belmondo (right) led an amateur soccer team to a glorious 1-1 tie last week—that is, if a goalie can be said to lead and a 1-1 tie can be said to be glorious. Belmondo, whose athletic pursuits include boxing and climbing up the faces of Paris buildings, and Runner Michel Jazy were the most famous members of the Polymuscles, a team of actors and athletes that played a team of ex-pro soccer players in Carpentras, France. It was an honestly fought match in which Goalkeeper Belmondo distinguished himself with half a dozen spectacular saves, three of them belly-whopping dives worthy of any pro. "I have never seen a more courageous goalie or a peppier team," former pro star Roger Piantoni was heard to say afterward of the Polymuscles, and if the pronouncement seems long on courtesy and short on specifics about the Polymuscles' ability, still their opponents were ex-pros, led by the probable future coach of the French national soccer team. As for Michel Jazy, while Belmondo was defending the goal with a fine disregard for his stock in trade, the Belmondo face, Jazy was apparently playing the other 10 positions. "One minute he was helping Belmondo protect the goal," a Carpentras man observed, "and the next he was attacking the net. It was hard to say," the man mused, "just what position he was playing." Well, Jazy is a runner, and apparently he was running.