Ordinarily, it would be difficult to praise anything that only adds to the statistical approach to what should be flesh-and-blood sport. But Mr. Roberson's patent, like so many patents before it, is primarily a labor-saving device; it does away completely with the boxing judge. In certain states that wouldn't be a bad idea at all.
Two 17-year-old boys, having shot a round of golf, were refreshing themselves with double chocolate malteds. One of them was unmistakably depressed. "My advice to you," said his friend in a grave and candid manner, "is to lay off for six months and then give up the game."
LAMENT FOR A MANAGER
There is not much point in shedding tears for a baseball manager when he leaves a $35,000-a-year job. One presumes that a few dollars have been stashed away in a convenient hatbox for the rainy season.
Still, the departure of Manager Marty Marion from the Chicago White Sox is an irritating thing to consider, and an indignant reaction necessarily occurs. Few men know baseball better than he, few can appraise their teams and opponents more shrewdly, few are better liked or more widely respected.
"We all felt," explained White Sox Vice-President Charles Comiskey, "that the club should have done a little better this year."
Who all felt? In the spring of the season Casey Stengel, that shrewd ob-server, said of the White Sox: "They don't have enough players." What Stengel meant, of course, was that the fine Chicago first string was unsupported in depth, a vital ingredient in today's baseball. There was no real reserve strength, no secondary starting pitching, no row of pinch hitters, no room to maneuver. When a player slumped (as so many White Sox did this season) there was little that Marty Marion could do. Unlike Stengel, he could not turn to his bench to shake things up. He had to stay with his first string, because an in-and-out Larry Doby, for example, was still preferable in center field and in the batting order to a nonhitting Bubba Phillips or a nonfielding Ron Northey.
Almost inevitably the White Soxers collapsed in July when they struck a simultaneous slump. In 10 days they were all washed up, and the pennant race was over. Marion rallied his team sufficiently to salvage third place but failed to overtake Cleveland, which, by something more than a coincidence, has also dropped its manager.
And the man who beat them both? Casey Stengel has just been voted Manager of the Year for the fifth time. And the Yankee farm system will be busy all winter digging up fresh troops to make sure Casey is Manager of the Year in 1957, too.
GENTLEMAN FROM AUSTRALIA
Since John Landy "retired" from track competition two years ago, he has turned in four under-four-minute miles; he gallantly spoiled a good chance to better his own world record in the mile by stopping to help a fallen runner at a meet in Australia; he traveled to California and ran two races there to help create interest in the Melbourne Olympics. Two months ago a soreness of his leg tendons made it difficult, then impossible, for Landy to run. He stopped training to see if rest would help before finally ruling himself off Australia's Olympic team. Last week an official was attending swimming trials in Melbourne when Landy phoned him to say that he would, after all, be a member of the team. Relayed by loudspeaker, the news brought the crowd to their feet and the swimmers from the water to cheer John Landy—not so much for what he was about to do, but for the kind of man he already was.