Scorecard

The affidavits, according to Summers, are all to the effect that the replay of the final three seconds, which allowed the Russians to score the winning basket, was not legal under the rules. Turning the clock back, he says, was an unsanctioned decision by R. William Jones, secretary-general of the International Amateur Basketball Federation and a courtside observer.

It would be nice if the hearing were in open court. The idea of Brundage appearing before the IOC, unlikely as that prospect is, is a fascinating one.

INSTANT TRADITION

One of the sillier customs in American football is that of players hoisting the coach to their shoulders after a victory and carrying him off the field. This indicates the win is properly his and seems to support Avery Brundage's contention that football has become a chess game played by coaches. Really, why should the coach be carried? It would seem more logical for the coach and his assistants to run out on the field and lift the quarterback or the middle linebacker, or whichever player did most to enhance the coaches' position and reputation and, not incidentally, income.

The practice produces some bizarre moments, such as that which occurred recently at Florida's Miami Military Academy. The academy's team is sort of a throwback, first in that it uses the old-fashioned single wing and second in that the squad averages only about 150 pounds a man. Despite its diminutive size and antique offense, it scored a signal triumph by breaking Dade Christian's 17-game winning streak, 40-20. As the game ended, several players gleefully attempted to lift Coach Jim Thomas. The problem was, Thomas weighs 250 pounds. They managed only a couple of tottering steps before Thomas was back on his feet. In a gallant second effort they tried again—and Thomas fell on his head. Maybe next time the coach will pick up a couple of his watch-charm guards and carry one on each shoulder.

OUT OF THE MOUTH
Pretty soon now someone is going to put together a book of contact lens stories. Here's one more for it. Greg Palchak, a middle guard at Indiana University of Pennsylvania, lost one of the elusive lenses at practice. The usual search followed, with everybody down on hands and knees vainly peering at the turf. That night a group of players used flashlights to continue the hunt. No luck. The search was abandoned. Time passed. The football team scrimmaged again. The field was rolled. The soccer team practiced. The band marched back and forth. Softball and rugby were played. Finally, three weeks later, during another football practice, Cornerback Kevin McGorry found himself on the bottom of a pileup, face down, his mouth tasting dirt. When he got up he spat and brushed the debris from his tongue and lips, and—what else?—into his hand fell Greg Palchak's missing contact lens.

BLACK AND ORANGE

When he joined the staff of the Boston Patriots in 1966, Rommie Loudd became one of the first blacks ever to coach in professional football. A year later he moved up to director of personnel, another first for his race. Now Loudd is quietly working to obtain an NFL expansion franchise, hopefully in or near Orlando, Fla., hopefully for the 1974 season. Last week the 38-year-old Loudd, who is still a Patriot executive, told a group of Orlando civic leaders: "I can't say I have the inside track on a franchise, but I think I have the ability to get the inside track. I've played football, coached and now hold a front-office position. I've worked hard and kept my nose clean. With 25 years of experience in football, if I don't get a chance to head a team, well, they'll have denied me my Ph.D."

Orange County officials responded by offering Loudd a lease on a stadium that has not been built for games that have not been scheduled for a team that has not been born. It may not be quite the Ph.D. that Loudd is looking for, but it is an impressive demonstration of confidence from one of the fastest-growing metropolitan areas in the country.

NAMES ON THE HALF SHELL