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MAKING A FAST BUCK
Notre Dame has pulled a fast one on its rivals, shuffling the price structure of football tickets so that visiting teams will contribute almost $110,000 of their share of the gate this season to the Notre Dame building fund. The custom is for teams to split ticket money 50-50, and Notre Dame's contracts with its Big Ten rivals call for such an arrangement. But the Irish have devised an ingenious system that makes 50-50 less than half. They may sell as many as 22,000 season tickets at $40 each—with $30 of this amount marked for admission to the six home games, but the other $10 listed as a contribution to the Notre Dame building fund. This means that the visiting team will share only in the $5 admission price per game instead of the actual $6.66 price of the ticket. On a 50-50 split the visitors get $2.50 instead of $3.33. This 83� goes to Notre Dame's building fund. It will cost Purdue, Illinois, Northwestern, Oklahoma, Georgia Tech and Pitt—visitors to Notre Dame Stadium this year—more than $18,000 each.
Since all football-game contracts grant the home team the right to set its own ticket prices, there is nothing the visiting teams can do about it. The practice is not unusual—ticket speculators and agencies on Broadway are familiar with it. But where Notre Dame calls it "building," they call it "ice."
A FISH TALE
Ernest Hemingway has been quoted as saying once that "deep-sea fishing will never be a sport until you put the hook in your mouth and get into the water with the fish." Don Gray, a junior at the University of West Florida in Pensacola, has never gone quite that far. But he came fairly close recently in the Gulf of Mexico.
An angler aboard the charter boat on which Gray has been working as first mate to earn school money hooked a blue marlin south of Pensacola. After seven jumps in three minutes, the marlin broke the line. Ordinarily, that would have been the end of it. But the intrepid first mate sighted the broken line floating behind the boat. Before the fish realized it was free, Gray dived overboard and retrieved the broken end. The captain backed the boat to where Don was swimming, and he climbed aboard. They tried to thread the line back through the guides on another rod, but whenever they pulled in the slack line the marlin would take off again, burning their hands. Eventually they succeeded in tying the lines together. The angler then resumed the fight, with more conventional tactics, and in two hours the 119�-pound marlin was boated.
It wasn't The Old Man and the Sea, but it probably equaled anything Hemingway ever did from a boat.
EXAMINING THE EVIDENCE
Call it The Case of the Two Slippery Elm Tablets. They were found in the dust at Wrigley Field two Sundays ago, lying near the third-base line along with a tube of Vaseline. It was the ninth inning. In the seventh Chicago Pitcher Phil Regan had been accused by the umpire of throwing a greaseball. In the bottom of the eighth Regan had collided with Cincinnati Catcher Pat Corrales as he slid into home. Had the evidence fallen from the villain's pocket (one reporter remembered that at the 1966 World Series, Regan had a carton of Thayer's slippery elm lozenges in his locker)? Or, as Regan suggested, had the Vaseline and elms been planted?
Two days later National League President Warren Giles, apparently unaware of the seemingly incriminating evidence, absolved Regan of wrongdoing and overruled his umpire, Chris Pelekoudas, who had called Regan's pitches illegal. The umpire admitted he had found no evidence on the ball, and although he had detected a kind of sticky substance on Regan's cap, he could not be sure that it was a lubricant. But he said he could tell by the flight of the ball that some of Regan's pitches were illegal.