It was typical. The football and baseball stars were almost total strangers when they arrived at La Costa. (Oh, a few were pals—Brodie and Drysdale, for example, who ended up as partners by the luck of the draw.) For the first hours and days the competitors kept noticeably apart in the dining room and bar and lobby of the sprawling, elaborate La Costa lodge. The baseball players moved to one side, and the football celebrities stayed on the other side. But slowly they came together out of genuine curiosity and admiration.
One evening Jim Maloney, the Cincinnati Reds' pitcher, grabbed Green Bay's Jim Taylor by the biceps and said to his tournament partner, Bart Starr, "I never realized it, but this guy is made out of concrete. I can't believe it."
For muscular Mickey Mantle, the San Diego Chargers' Lance Alworth, frail by comparison, was a tourist attraction. "Boy, there's no way you can be a football player," said Mantle. Alworth, the fleet receiver, smiled and retreated.
In general, the pro football players looked smaller than the baseball stars had anticipated—and, in turn, the baseball players were bigger than the football players had imagined. Anyone who could not instantly recognize the athletes and who might have happened upon a conversation group consisting of Drysdale (6'6", 218 pounds), Frank Howard (6'7", 250 pounds), Ken Harrelson (6'2", 190 pounds) and Bob Allison (6'4", 220 pounds), all baseball players, would have immediately identified them as the Packers' front four.
For all of their unnatural grace on the La Costa course, the athletes displayed a raw sense of competitiveness when confronted with the pressure they all feared.
Mazeroski and Krause were not taken too seriously after the first round. No one had watched them play, the gallery displaying strong preferences for the bigger names, such as Mantle, Mays, Kou-fax and Starr. That evening—and early morning—just about everyone wore out his alligator loafers on the dance floor. John Brodie, the best golfer of them all, who once had tried the PGA tour, did one mad frug after another with his pretty wife, Sue. Coming off the dance floor once, wringing wet, he looked down at his natty jacket and said, "Hey! I blew my garb."
The following morning Brodie was too weak to take a practice swing before teeing off. He sat limply in the dining room until he was called, struggled down the stairs, onto the tee, and made a double bogey at the first hole.
"Beautiful," said Drysdale. From there on, however, Brodie played the best golf of the tournament—four under par with his own ball on the remaining 17 holes. This shoved his team into a tie for second with Ralph Terry and George Andrie of the Dallas Cowboys. And they were only three behind Mazeroski and Krause.
That evening everyone delighted in pointing out to Mazeroski that he was playing golf for more money than he had had at stake in the 1960 World Series when he hit the home run that beat the Yankees.
Through nine holes the next day it was close. One stroke separated the three top teams. On the back side, however, the Brodie-Drysdale combination fell behind. One reason, perhaps, was that their fingers ached from signing more autographs than most. But the Terry-Andrie team blazed away toward an 11-under-par 61.