THE WAY THE BALL FLIES
In Kansas City, at least, there is reason to believe that the lively ball is back. The evidence: some fearsome blows struck this season in Kansas City's Municipal Stadium. Since the Athletics moved there in 1955 just 14 balls have been hit onto Brooklyn Avenue, a feat that requires the batter not only to propel the ball more than 400 feet but to send it above a concrete wall that surmounts an embankment behind the regular right-field fence.
With the home season just half over, three players—Don Mincher, Reggie Jackson and Tony Oliva—have hit balls onto Brooklyn. Never before have more than two balls been hit there in any one season. The average per season, for 14 seasons, has been just one.
With some optimism, this department reported last week on the Lake Roberts experiment with a bubblemaking machine that the New Mexico Game and Fish Department hoped would double the capacity of the lake for trout. The machine was designed to raise, via bubbles, the cold, oxygen-free bottom layer of the lake to the top, which in turn would descend, rich in oxygen, to the bottom.
It worked, too, for a few days, and fishing was great. Then the experimenters repeated the test. Once again the bubbles brought the cold bottom water to the top—and also a large amount of bottom nutrients, which normally would have been a plus indeed. The nutrients caused an extensive growth of algae, which would have been fine, also, except that a cold rain fell on the area, and was followed by several days of overcast skies. That cut the sunlight off the algae (it can't happen in your lighted aquarium), causing it to die and decay. In decaying, the algae dissolved the oxygen content of the lake and thus killed the fish. The fish will be replaced, to be sure, and the experimenters have learned to study the weather forecasts before stirring up the lake.
Once in a while you're going to bobble when you should burble.
THE PARTY'S OVER
The ugly expression "tennis bum" seems to be on its way out of the game's lexicon—if Stan Malless, chairman of the National Clay Court Championships, has his way and if chairmen of other tournaments follow his lead.
"There will be no guarantees to any player, and no amateur will get more than $50 in expense money above meals and housing," Malless told the 96 players—64 men, 32 women—entered in the clay court tournament at the Woodstock Club in Indianapolis.