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BUTTERFLIES & OLD FRIENDS
Fate, the New York Yankees and the Cleveland Indians have decreed that Marty Marion will not be a World Series manager in 1955. But the onetime Mr. Shortstop of the St. Louis Cardinals was in the Series four times as a ball player and he still remembers what that means.
"Playing in a World Series," he says, "is your greatest thrill in baseball—the highlight of your career and the one thing you battle for all year.
"There's a lot of glamor and glory attached to it but if you win, your first problem starts off after you get into the Series—with tickets. You know more people—old long-lost friends, relatives, cronies, schoolmates, acquaintances you haven't heard from in years. I don't see how a player gets to the park sometimes to play the game, he's so busy with requests for tickets.
"If he manages to lick that problem, which isn't easy, then the next thing he must overcome is the glamor of the World Series. Try to treat it like just another ball game—and most players do. Even so, you get butterflies in your stomach before the first pitch. Every play you make, every time you go to bat, everything you do, you feel like this: if I play real bad I'll be a goat and they'll write about me in baseball history for years to come. I was lucky. I was never the goat, but you feel the responsibility of trying to be a winner."
That was the way Shortstop Marion used to feel, and very likely the way 18 other fellows will feel next week.
CHALLENGE FROM CHINA
The sagging paunch, the creaking joint, the spreading seat and the panting breath—all of them marks of our high culture—recently have come under global attack in Formosa, Denver, Washington and Germany. They are symptoms of a world-wide disease for which the Germans have a word: unternehmerkrankheit.
In this country unternehmerkrankheit ("executive sickness") has hit the Air Force with specially impressive severity. In the last few months three brigadier generals (and some lesser officers) have died of heart attacks. The Air Force, therefore, has ordered its "chair-borne corps" of officers to exercise. In Denver, later this month, President Eisenhower will address a two-day conference on physical fitness for youth, aimed at giving the next generation at least a chance to forestall, by exercise, the fate of the older, wiser citizenry. And the German doctor who named the disease believes it can be alleviated with a very old pill—exercise—taken with plenty of sleep and moderation.
To the Chinese, who invented gunpowder and a number of other ideas, it will be no surprise to discover that they are out in front again. In the mid '30s, when the Nationalist government of Chiang Kai-shek was at its zenith on the mainland, bureaucrats kept in shape with tennis, basketball, soccer and an occasional exhibition of calisthenics in the gymnasium of Nanking's Central University. Then the Japanese took Nanking in 1937, Chiang was driven to Formosa and thereafter there was very little of organized exercise for the Nationalist Chinese.