To Sides' credit he did fess up right away to Houston Coach Bill Yeoman, who says, "Earlier in my career I might have become unraveled, but not this time. You need something like this, I guess, to tell your grandkids."
P.S. Last week Houston lost to Memphis State 17-3.
Rugby is under fire Down Under. So far nine players in Australia and New Zealand have died this year, and scores of others have been seriously injured, with a number maimed for life. At least four players are now quadriplegics.
The use of the head as a battering ram and the practice of scrums packing too low, thus increasing the risk of a player's head buckling beneath his armpits, are being blamed. But there is also the question of out-and-out violence. "Too many rugby players are suffering fractured faces from being punched or kicked," says Alton Macalister, an oral surgeon in Otago, New Zealand. "As a former player, I know there shouldn't be this incidence of fractured faces from legal rugby. The most common facial fractures are to the jawbone and cheekbone. I see premeditated violence and a worsening situation."
The tiny town of Hayward, Wis. (pop. 1,700) is the home of the biggest fish on earth. It is 143 feet long and 4� stories high. It is not a live fish but a cantilevered 90-ton, steel and fiberglass replica of a muskie in which every scale has been cut by hand, and it is the setpiece of the National Fresh Water Fishing Hall of Fame. Formally dedicated this summer, the fish will be open to the public next spring, and the big attraction will be to enter through the belly and walk upstairs to the viewing platform in the mouth, which is studded with 3�-foot teeth.
Both the fish and the hall were dreamed up by Bob Kutz, 58, a former resort and restaurant owner, who woke up one night in 1960 with the revelation that Hayward, well known for its muskie fishing, should have a fishing hall of fame to match baseball's in Cooperstown. (Why Hayward and not some other fishing hot spot? "Because we live here, not someplace else," says Mrs. Kutz.)
Ever since then, Kutz and a growing army of enthusiasts have been turning the dream into reality. They have collected a mass of books and artifacts, ranging from fish mounts to ancient tackle to Ole Evinrude's first outboard motor. They have also raised more than half a million dollars, mostly "the hard way," says Kutz, by selling individual memberships for $10 a year. Kutz also talked Jim Beam, the bourbon people, into issuing 10 commemorative fish decanters, one species a year, for which the hall gets a $2 royalty on every case sold.
At present the Hayward hall also serves as "official keeper" of world records for 160 species of freshwater fish, and next year Kutz and company will start enshrining fishermen and others who have made outstanding contributions to angling. Besides the walk-in muskie, the grounds will eventually have seven buildings, including an aquarium and a library for research. "We had 30,000 visitors last year," Kutz says. "We had 60,000 this year, and we expect 100,000 next year. The whole thing is exactly as I dreamed it."