"Incidentally, if you're ever in the Melody Room on Sunset Blvd. and you see the barkeep with a Blendor in one hand and a bottle of banana oil in the other—order a Martini quickly. Very dry with a twist of lemon, and hold the banana please. Tell him when you want an ice cream soda, you'll ask for it."
In the peculiar world of the ice hockey player, injuries are treated as minor nuisances. Witness Allan Stanley. The Toronto Maple Leafs' defenseman took a skate blade through the cheek during a game with Montreal. He was hurried to the dressing room, where a doctor—prodded by Stanley's grunts of annoyance at being off the ice—took 25 stitches, most of them inside the mouth. Back to the fray rushed Stanley, in time to play five minutes of the second period. Then he played his regular shifts in the last period. After the game doctors had another look at the cheek. Turned out the jaw was broken, and Stanley, still complaining, was taken to a hospital for a wiring job. After four days off he was back in the lineup.
BUCS ON WAX
There were 56 World Series winners before this year, but don't tell the Pirates. They still think they're the first. The latest clue to a Pittsburgher's view of the world comes in a long-playing record called The Impossible Pirates: Sixty Incredible Years of Baseball. It sells for $3.95.
On the record, Sportswriter Chet Smith recounts high points of the club's history and Sportscaster Bob Prince contributes some mangled metaphors ("darkness, rain and tension by the ton at Forbes Field"). Prince gets a bit emotional about the 1960 team, whose relatively effortless pennant victory he calls "utterly impossible" and "too fantastic."
There are high points: Joe E. Brown's batting instructions to "Ralphie" Kiner, Honus Wagner's comments on modern baseball and Branch Rickey's insights into talent hunting. If you flinch at the thought of hearing "Beat 'em Bucs" even once more, rest easy. The only "Beat 'em Bucs" comes in an a cappella duet by Prince and Brown. Anyway, the theme song is a bouncy ball-park version of With a Little Bit of Luck, which is a welcome bit of understatement.
BUTTON THY LIP
Leo Durocher, the unemployed baseball manager, told Mel Durslag of the
Los Angeles Examiner the other day that major league baseball owners were "blackballing" him and thus preventing him from earning a livelihood.
"To start with," said Leo, "perhaps I am too controversial. I have never weighed my words. I always say what's on my mind. Maybe sometimes this isn't too good."
After Leo's statement appeared, the noncontroversial men who run baseball denied it all. The Giants, the Yankees, the L.A. Angels and other clubs that have recently hired new managers all had plausible excuses for bypassing Durocher. Admittedly, Durocher has not made himself an overly attractive prospect to many baseball owners. Until recently he has demanded stock as well as money from any club interested in his genius. Now he says he just wants in.