Ivey has coached the Lady Gators to three consecutive SEC team titles and has clearly inspired loyalty—all 16 swimmers on this year's team signed a letter of support after he was fired. But neither success nor loyalty explains why a man with such a sullied reputation was allowed within a mile of Florida's swimming pool.
The View from Europe
In anticipation of crowd-control difficulties at next year's World Cup finals, U.S. law-enforcement authorities recently visited several European countries to study the violence that takes place at soccer matches. The Americans professed no major concerns, a view that amused a Rotterdam police spokesman. "They have no experience with these sorts of situations," said Peter van Zunderd, "because sport in America is for the most part a huge family party."
Ah, but has the Dutchman ever tailgated at Yankee Stadium?
Always a Battler
Marty Liquori, 45, one of America's finest milers ever, recently went public with the fact that he has chronic lymphocytic leukemia, a mild form of the often deadly disease. Ironically, Liquori's condition was diagnosed only a few months after he had become national spokesman for the Leukemia Society of America. He has remained active, and his doctors say his prognosis is good.
There is no question that Liquori will fight the disease. He was the consummate competitor, a guy who wouldn't shake hands with even his closest friend before a race. Yet away from the track, he was approachable, his Jersey-guy persona—street-smart, tough, magnetic—in stark contrast to that of his chief U.S. rival, Jim Ryun, the unapproachable, mysterious god from the Midwest.
Ryun has to be considered the best American miler of all time. Still, says Vince Cartier, a former national high school record holder in the mile and onetime prot�g� of Liquori's, "if you lined up all the great ones in their prime—Ryun, Ovett, Coe, Bayi, Coghlan—my money would be on Marty. He'd find a way to win."