What an article about what a man—and wife (A Firm Hand on a Carefree Cat, June 17)! And how timely can you get?
Lee Trevino is the greatest thing to happen to golf since the sand wedge. Man, how his color and tough fiber stand out among our "golf executive" tournament pros, including that group decked out like a bunch of drunk piano tuners who can't hack it when the situation gets really hairy.
Winter Park, Fla.
You must have known something when you ran the feature story on Golfer Lee Trevino in the week of the U.S. Open, which he went on to win so dramatically. Your timing was uncanny. Congratulations.
BOUQUETS AND A BRICKBAT
I appreciated very much the article by Danny Blanchflower (Just One Truth for Me, June 10). I never played soccer and have seen only a very few matches, except on TV. This lack of familiarity with the game resulted in very little interest or appreciation of soccer, but Mr. Blanchflower's commentary was noteworthy because of its refreshing candor and because it contributed greatly to my efforts to understand the game.
Mr. Blanchflower hit the nail on the head when he not only deplored the general attitude of TV toward sports and the public but accurately pointed out that "the public knows most sports television has a deliberate phoniness about it."
A case in point was a recent Game of the Week broadcast. Tim McCarver, Cardinal catcher, was running down a foul pop. As he neared the dugout steps, several Cardinals moved to catch him in case he fell. Mr. Peewee Reese noted this and added something to the effect that, if McCarver had been in the vicinity of the Mets' dugout, he would have been accorded the same solicitous attention. Baseball, we were given to understand, was a game of gentlemen and sportsmen—a not-whether-you-won-or-lost-but-how-you-played-the-game sort of thing.
A few moments later J. C. Martin of the Mets found himself pursuing a foul near the same Cardinal dugout. But, as he neared the steps, not a single Cardinal moved a muscle, epitomizing what we all know about baseball: the name of the game is win. There was no comment by Mr. Reese.
We are constantly being told, ad infinitum, ad nauseam, that something is wrong with this nation, that our young people are sick (this college professor professes that they ain't). Well, one thing that is certain is that we are pretty sick of not being told the whole truth—a fact that is obvious to discerning watchers of TV.
In a society and world that have come to admire and worship mediocrity, athletics remains one of the relatively few fields of human endeavor where excellence is still the only criterion of judgment. Danny Blanch-flower tells us just how close to extinction this last sanctuary of real values is. His words, "just one truth for me," mark him as a true champion of that morality which must govern not only sport but life as well.
SI has spoiled its own record for demanding integrity in the sports world and championing the cause of good sportsmanship. Photographer Jerry Cooke's obvious delight in his subterfuge and success in breaking the rules forbidding photography at Royal Ascot, and his ridicule of this British tradition (LETTER FROM THE PUBLISHER, June 17), place him in the same class with those people who feel justified in disregarding laws which are not to their liking or which interfere with their pursuit of success. For you to publish the report of Mr. Cooke's unsportsmanlike behavior is to condone his tactics and to subscribe to the philosophy that the end justifies the means.