On the brighter side, the storied bars under the blue-and-white striped tents in the various enclosures did their usual brisk business at the last Henley, and admissions to viewing spots held up admirably. "If worst came to worst—and it would have to be the worst," says Hannen, "we would have to accept sponsorship." It is hard to believe there won't always be a Henley.
This is the Year of the Tiger on the Chinese calendar and, they hope, the year Auburn, LSU, Clemson, Texas Southern, Memphis State, Missouri, the University of the Pacific and Princeton, among others, will roar out of the football jungle to certain victory over lesser animals.
Here is a fish story to begin all fish stories. Oscar, a 1�-inch-long blue-green Siamese fighting fish, is in love. The object of his affection is Karol Kluge, a freshman at St. Gregory's College in Shawnee, Okla. Oscar lives an otherwise sedate life in the fishbowl of the Rev. Victor Roberts, a faculty member and Oscar's owner and provider. But Karol has been feeding the creature, and every time she enters the Rev. Roberts' office, Oscar, who has studiously ignored his master, waves his tail and then swims back and forth, as beside himself as a puppy. Karol has tested their relationship by calling to Oscar from behind a door. Always it is the same: wiggles, happy wiggles.
NO FALL GUY
The best man at last month's NCAA wrestling championships at Iowa State never lifted a finger to prove the point. Wade Schalles, a senior from Clarion (Pa.) State, with an extraordinary record, was declared ineligible for the university division tournament because he had enrolled briefly at another school the summer prior to his freshman year, so he watched from the sidelines as wrestlers he had beaten previously took titles in the 150-, 158- and 177-pound divisions and a second at 167 pounds. The 177-pounder, Floyd Hitchcock of Bloomsburg (Pa.) State, was named the tournament's outstanding wrestler. Earlier this season Schalles stepped up from 158 pounds to 177 to challenge Hitchcock because, he said, "he was the best wrestler in that tournament and I wanted to see what I could do against him." What he did was pin Hitchcock so suddenly that the referee almost failed to call the fall.
Schalles does not look like a wrestler. His gangly body is unrippled by anything that might be classified as a muscle, but he does have the ego of a winner. Asked two years ago on national TV when did he think he had his match for an NCAA title won, he told Frank Gifford, "As soon as I stepped on the mat."
One of the latest intellectual parlor games is analyzing football players. Anybody can play—and plenty of people do—but the man probably best qualified is wondering if the game might be better off without him. He is Dr. Arnold Mandell, a scholarly psychiatrist who spent the last two seasons visiting with the San Diego Chargers as the only team shrink in the National Football League. "Pro football," he wrote in a study, "is not the place for a psychiatrist. I found that by helping to alleviate a player's problems I was making him happier but perhaps not as successful."
Even so, Dr. Mandell added to the growing body of observations, some scientific, some not, by splitting personality traits according to position. He concluded that quarterbacks are the most arrogant players. One type is apt to say, "Heat up the water. I don't want to walk on it while it's cold." Another, a religious type, is humble before God but no one else. He is anxiety-free and feels he has a direct line to the Lord.
"Fullbacks are honest, tough, no-nonsense," the doctor writes. "Halfbacks are sneaky, elusive. Both are aggressive, but while the fullback will punch you in the nose, the halfback will stab you in the back."