Bingo III, a female bulldog, will officially become Handsome Dan XII in the fall, ending an 86-year string of male mascots at Yale.
STRANGE AS IT SEAMS
Rocky Bridges, for years a tobacco-chewing shortstop and now in his second season as manager of the Phoenix Giants of the Pacific Coast League, commented recently on the changing ways of ballplayers. "I didn't have any trouble getting used to the castanets when the players started bringing music to the locker room," he said. "It sounded like bad plumbing but it was O.K. with me. And I didn't get too excited when they started bringing hair dryers to the clubhouse. And I didn't mind that six guys on the team use curlers in their hair. But I never thought I'd see the day when a player took a portable sewing machine on road trips to make his own clothes." It's true. First Baseman Tony Pepper tailors his trousers, hemstitches and does appliqu�s. He is also batting .280. Do his teammates needle him?
JAWS OF YESTERDAY
Beach tourists on Cape Cod are as queasy about their waters this summer as anyone, thanks to Jaws. But to the true salty seasoned Cape Codder, stories of weird and terrible beings in the water are old, old stuff.
Recently, George Moses of the Cope Cod Standard-Times dug up a report published in Provincetown in September 1719: "On the 17th Instant there appeared in Cape Cod Harbour a strange creature. His head like a Lyons with very large Teeth. Ears hanging down, a long Beard with curling hair on his head, his Body about 16 foot long, a round buttock with a short tayle of a yellowish colour; the Whale boats gave him chase. He was very fierce and gnashed his teeth with great rage when they attack him, he was shot three times and Wounded. When he rose out of the Water he always faced the boats in that angry manner; the Harpaniers struck at him but in vaine, for after 5 hours chase he took to sea again. None of the people ever saw his like befor."
Such things were taken in stride in the old days; as the Standard-Times' Moses pointed out, "Back then, Cape Codders had the good sense not to report sea serpents in the summer. They waited until the season was mostly over."
Governor Cecil Andrus of Idaho participated in a celebrity tournament at Sun Valley's Elkhorn golf course recently. Governor Andrus is an abominable golfer but a polished politician who has a perfectly clear understanding of the nuances of executive privilege. Before play began, Andrus ordered a pamphlet containing his definition of the rules of golf for governors distributed to everyone at the course:
"1) The governor always wins, and that's an executive order. 2) The governor cheats. 3) Other players, the gallery and all cart drivers will smile and act natural while rules 1) and 2) are being observed. 4) Play begins only after one truly superior player has volunteered to be the governor's partner. 5) The governor can demand a new partner at any time—even during his former partner's backswing. 6) The governor may change his bets at any time. 7) The governor can settle his bets through IOUs, promotion, pleading poverty, etc., but all other bets are payable in cash on the 18th green, especially those owed the governor. 8) Other rules will be instituted by the governor as needs arise. 9) No complaining, grumbling, arguing, griping or crying about these rules will be tolerated."
Most of the complaining, grumbling, griping and crying came from the governor. He shot 112.