($14.5 million), left, is the oldest of the new, dating to 1960. Famed for its wild winds, it is about to be enlarged, though San Francisco Mayor Joseph Alioto says his city is "perpetuating a mediocrity."
($31.5 million) has attracted hundreds of events and uncounted dreamy-eyed imitators who want one for their city, too. Open since 1965, it inaugurated the era of artificial grass with its AstroTurf.
($18 million) was a circular rush job thrown up in 51 weeks so that the Braves would have a new park when they arrived in '66. The big circle leaves fans of every sport equal: all quite far away.
($26 million), above, soon to have plastic grass, may be the best new park. It got a bad start when fans passed out from the heat at the '66 All-Star Game, but it has helped revive downtown St. Louis.
($30 million including the adjacent arena), above, is the lodestone of a magnificent entertainment complex, but the baseball team—a good one—drew poorly and the place is getting Finley's goat.
($23 million), right, finished in 1961, is esthetically pleasing and a capital boost, but the field is set low and holds the humidity by day, while violence in the area has made it not so hot at night.
They Ran Away from the Rest
"Too much is made of the pain stuff," Jim Ryun said once. The astonishing Kansan—shown below tracing a pattern along the dunes—was a prodigy among milers. He beat the one other supreme runner of the times, New Zealand's Peter Snell (left), when he was 18, and he set the world mile record of 3:51.1 when only 20. But at 21 he learned about agony. "God, it hurts," he said after his 1968 Olympic defeat.
A New King, Coast to Coast
Hockey reconstituted itself, body and soul, almost at once in 1967. Before then it was a tidy little arrangement among six northern cities. But suddenly it became a sophisticated major league, a national sport for the U.S. as well as Canada that offered up a slammer named Bobby Hull as an image to awe all. For hockey's new fans Chicago's Hull was like a home run king, and quickly he outshone two other, perhaps better, longtime stars—Gordie Howe and Jean Beliveau. On March 12, 1966, with a 30-foot slap shot (above) that traveled 100 miles an hour, Hull put in his 51st goal of the season, breaking a 21-year-old record and establishing himself as hockey's Ruth.
It Added up To Thrills and More
Each signed a bad scorecard once. Roberto de Vicenzo lost a chance for a Masters playoff that way in 1968. Ken Venturi purposely approved a wrong score one time in 1962 so that he mercifully could be eliminated from a tournament; his golf and his future seemed gone. But for three days in 1964 it all came back, and in Washington's debilitating 100� heat Venturi triumphed at last. "My God," he said, "I've won the Open." Only Roberto's despair—"What a stupid I am"—rivaled it for golf emotion.