From one who knows absolutely nothing of the sport (other than the image of menace and terror motorcyclists have created in this country) to a young man who knows the true meaning of daring, goes all my admiration and respect.
Grosse Pointe Park, Mich.
Concerning Bob Ottum's view of motorcycling in the U.S.: "We know all about riders in the U.S., and you can have most of them." Never during my association with your magazine have I read a more biased and flagrantly unfair opinion. I question whether his opinion reflects that of SI. Perhaps Mr. Ottum spoke hastily, being unacquainted with the actual state of motorcycling today. In that case I can forgive his ignorance.
JAMES J. SCHWARZWALDER
Congratulations! I had just about given up hope on an article about European GP racing. You are 100% correct in saying that the Americans don't know what it is all about. To prove the point further just look at the type of motorcycle racing that is televised in the U.S. Greasy, boring and unimaginative, that about sums up the dirt-track racing in America. How I long for a Brands Hatch or an Isle of Man here in the U.S. That picture of Agostini leaning over his machine, his finger lightly feathering the clutch, is a road-racing enthusiast's delight.
WILLIAM B. GRIMMEL
Kew Gardens, N.Y.
I watched via TV the final holes of the Houston Champions International golf tournament on May 7. The Frank Beard-Arnold Palmer match was exciting and unforgettable. Arnie bogeyed a hole, and Frank had a chance at a birdie, but when his putt missed, members of Arnie's Army cheered. I'm sure Arnie, being the great sportsman that he is, was upset by this unbelievable display of poor sportsmanship.
I've been in Arnie's Army, and there is a real spirit in that group. But it should never sink to the level of cheering when his opponent's putts fail to drop. After all, the gallery was rather quiet at the Olympic Club on June 19, 1966. I know. I was there, and I was quiet, too.
In the tournament at Houston, Arnie didn't lose. Frank Beard won. I was sorry Arnie didn't win, but any golfer who can sink an 18-foot birdie putt worth $9,200 on the final hole deserves our respect and acclamation. Some of us choke on a 10-inch putt worth a dime. Right?
REV. ALBERT S. HIDY JR.
I've heard so much about how the Yankee fans mistreated Roger Maris that I thought someone should come to their defense. I think Maris is a good player. But he is not a superstar, and that's where the trouble started.
After Maris had his ultrafantastic year in 1961, the fans thought they had another superstar. Even though few people expected Maris to hit more than 60 home runs in 1962, almost everyone thought that 40 was well within his reach. When he was injured, they still expected almost as many homers, if not in '62, then at least in '63. You see, Yankee fans are used to superstars, like Mantle, being injured but still coming back with great years. When Maris failed to do this, the fans felt cheated—or perhaps disillusioned is the word. That's when and why they got on Maris.
This isn't an excuse for Maris being booed; he didn't do anything to deserve it. This is just the reason it happened.
R. E. JACKSON
The Bronx, N.Y.
Your first two paragraphs on Bill Bradley, "Anomalous Knick" (SCORECARD, May 8), were just fine. But when you put in that sly comment about Cazzie Russell you were pushing your luck. Give Cazzie a chance. He averages in double figures (not bad for a rookie). Jerry West only averaged 17.6 as a rookie.
New York City