SI is to be congratulated upon showing the American public in general, and the youth of America in particular, that the world of professional athletics all too frequently has very little—or nothing at all—in common with the real purpose and ideal of the sport.
A loud well-done for your piece on George May (SI, Aug. 1). He may be a promoter's promoter, but any resemblance to a sportsman's sportsman results from his happening to own a golf course instead of a pickle cannery—and that resemblance is very small indeed. Golf or pickles, it would be the same to him, I'm sure.
THE PERVERSION OF A FINE SPORT
There is no place in golf for men like George May. I am not concerned with his record or any other nebulous dealings he may or may not have entered into. Golf is one of the very few remaining great amateur sports. Certainly there are professional golfers, and certainly the professional aspects of golf are worthy of the game. But in golf, unlike baseball, it is the weekend duffer and the many weekend hot-shots who are the backbone and the distinction of the game.
Golf is a fine sport, one of the finest. Golf is the game of the individual, not the all-swallowing group. Let's keep George May out of it.
THAT OVERSIZED POOL HALL
Jack Mabley's article on George S. May and the whole Tam O'Shanter hoopla (SI, Aug. 1) was as fine a piece of thoughtful reporting and analytical reflection as I've ever read anywhere.
May's alcoholic haven and oversized pool hall bears as much resemblance to a golf club as a carnie's spiel to the Gettysburg Address. The whole thing, including his phony world championships of golf, is a travesty on sport, on golf and on ethics.
And May is sufficiently arrogant to label the whole thing as serving only to promote his business-engineering firm.
PRETTY ANN AND THAT HORSE
Meshach Tenney is a fine man and Swaps no doubt a local hero; but the two paired in a winner's circle just do not present the same soul-satisfying picture as pretty Ann and Nashua under the same circumstances. Since I yield to no one in my admiration of and devotion to Mrs. Woodward and that horse, I cry "shame" to Mr. Tuck who so soullessly told the world (19th HOLE, Aug. 1) that Ann Woodward wore the same frock to the Arlington Classic that she had worn to the Kentucky Derby. Therefrom, you will remember, he deduced fears of drastically reduced income from Nashua, with reference to the upcoming match race.
First of all, Swaps will not take Nashua come August 31. On the contrary, our eastern champion will show up the western horse for what he is: the usual West Coast wonder who fails against eastern competition. For my money Swaps is a moose-jawed, dull-eyed, haphazardly bred inmate of what looks like a camp for migrant workers. Secondly, Ann Woodward, a lady as wise as she is handsome, wore that dress a second time for one reason only, I am sure: to prevent sportswriters from following SI's lead in talking about the lady's clothes rather than the horse's performance.
CAN THIS BE THE MAN?
Since 1936 the Douglas Aircraft Company has been proud to have as one of its engineers Dr. Wolfgang Klemperer, pioneer of the German soaring movement. This Dr. Klemperer is an honorary vice president of the Soaring Society of America and last August was inducted into the Helms Sports Hall of Fame.