YOU HAVE EARS BUT HEAR NOT
Because athletes have been warned so often against using drugs, it is sometimes hard to believe the problem is still serious. But at least one NFL owner says it is, and because of that he is enthusiastic about the upcoming White House seminar on drugs in athletics. Player representatives from teams in football and other professional sports will be on hand, which is good, the owner says, because athletes who participate in the seminar should be able to get the drug message over to their teammates. "When the doctors talk to the players about the dangers of drugs," the owner says sadly, "it's like talking to the school for the deaf."
Despite the obdurate position of owners like Gussie Busch of the St. Louis Cardinals, the players seem to be taking the brunt of adverse public reaction to the recent baseball strike, catcalls from the stands mocking players indiscriminately. A less emotional but possibly more valid criticism comes from J. Norman Lewis, an attorney who in the 1950s was as much anathema to the owners as Marvin Miller is now. Lewis was the players' lawyer and representative and worked closely with stars like Ralph Kiner and Allie Reynolds in hammering out the pension contract of 1954. Now he feels strongly that current major-leaguers are greedy and selfish in refusing to share today's bonanza with older, retired players. Major-leaguers who finished their careers before the pension plan was established have never participated in it, and those who played only during its earlier years receive comparatively little. Rip Sewell, the old eephusball pitcher whose 13 seasons in the majors ended in 1949, gets $216 a month, Lewis says, whereas a current player with a similar career would get $1,542.80. "What kind of sympathy can I have for these kids?" he asks. "The funny thing is, their whole pitch [in the strike] involved a cost-of-living increase."
When the original plan was set up it included all post-World War II players. "I promoted the idea in 1954," Lewis says, "that all increases from then on take into account all these players, active, inactive or retired." Instead, he says, in the five-year contracts negotiated in 1962 and 1967 older players were removed from the new pension rolls in five-year increments. A resentful Allie Reynolds, thus lopped, went so far as to sue the players' association, unsuccessfully, for their action.
THE JUDD-GO CAPER
Two naked coeds may be the most stimulating thing ever to happen to Vanderbilt University's McGugin Center, focus of athletic activity on campus. The sauna at McGugin Center had been exclusively male until the two girls appeared one day to undress and bask in the moist 180� heat. "It didn't take long for a crowd to gather," said Equipment Manager Bill Kelly. "People who came to play handball decided to take a sauna before going to the courts instead of after." Les Lyle, an ex-Vanderbilt football player, was in the dressing room when the young women came out of the shower. "For the first time in my life I was speechless," Lyle remarked. "Finally I said, 'How are you doing?' They said they were doing fine, and I couldn't think of anything else to ask them." Then the girls dressed and left.
The two girls, splendidly named Wiget Judd and Mae King Go, said they were not crusaders. "We didn't do it to cause any trouble," said Wiget. "We knew there would be a few raised eyebrows, but since the university had to be prodded to allow women to use the sports center in the first place, we saw no reason not to take advantage of that decision to open the sauna to everyone." Mae, who is Mississippi Chinese, added that there was no scandal since no crowd had gathered—unless six men can be considered a crowd.
Athletic Director Bill Pace said, "We had decided earlier that McGugin Center facilities were open for the use of all students when there was no conflict with varsity programs. We hadn't thought about the sauna." Technical difficulties would have to be worked out, he added, since the sauna is near the men's shower "and we have no intention of mixing that area." But, henceforth, women students would be able to use it under a reserved-time system.
Really, golf is such an easy game. Take Dave Ragaini. He used to be No. 1 man on Yale's golf team, but then Yale is hardly Wake Forest, is it? Last year he became the third amateur in half a century to win the Westchester County Open, but who ever heard of the Westchester County Open? Ragaini is not even a scratch golfer—he labors under a two handicap—and to cap it all, he makes his living singing in radio and TV commercials (one of his golden oldies is M-m-m, M-m-m Good.... That's What Campbell's Soup Is). In other words, when Nicklaus is out on the practice tee, sharpening his swing, Ragaini is in the studio, clearing his throat and running up and down the scale a few times.