Scorecard

But this is not intended as criticism of Canham. In recruiting foreigners he may have improved the Olympic prospects of homegrown athletes by subjecting them early to stiff international competition. Certainly U.S. trackmen did well in the Olympics of his coaching years. Not one of his foreign imports won a gold medal.

END OF A PERFECT DAY

Claude, a New Orleanian whose last name is not necessary to this story, was famed for his volcanic temper on the golf course, but on this beautiful day he was quiescent. No grimaces or gestures, no bodily contortions or excuses for errant woods and shanked irons, lost balls and missed putts—although all were there in their customary numbers. Claude played in perfect silence as his companions marveled at the course's splendid condition, at fairways that were rolling, at greens that held.

At the 10th, however, the light banter turned to apprehension. Claude hit three new Titleists into the lake: a blooper, a topper and a slice. He had never before produced a series of shots like this without spewing lava and ash on the sward. But on this memorable day, Claude was a study in rectitude. Carefully, almost tenderly, he put the offending club back in his golf bag, asked one of the foursome to see that the bag was returned to his locker in the clubhouse and, waving a sad, silent farewell, jumped into the lake.

THE HONEYMOON IS OVER

As it must to all men in baseball, the time came when Johnny Bench had to explain to his bride, model Vickie Chesser, the advantages of chewing tobacco during a game.

"To start with," the Cincinnati catcher said, "the catcher's mask offers problems for sunflower seeds, which I enjoy. When you spit them out, they tend to hit the iron bars and pop back at you. They pile up below the lip, and that's uncomfortable.

"Bubble gum is tiring. You have to chew it all the time, and your face rubs against the mask. Worse, try to blow a bubble in a catcher's mask. It can be a mess.

"But with a chaw," Bench said reassuringly, "you have everything. You can chew it occasionally or just let it sit there and rest. Between innings it gives you something to do in the dugout, and it's great when you're mad. You can spit, and get rid of your feelings. An ump would throw you out if you kicked dust on him or gave anybody the bird, but who is to say when you spit whether you're sore or just spitting for personal relief and satisfaction?"

ORIGIN OF SPECIES
A young man with tie pins to sell thought he had a captive audience in the bird watchers fluttering around Newbury-port-Salisbury, Mass. last week in hopes of catching sight of its exotic Arctic visitor, a Ross' gull (SCORECARD, March 17). He misjudged the expertise of his audience, however. The pins cost $3 and depicted what an accompanying card described as " Ross' gull...'The Bird of the Century.' " But these birders weren't so gullible. They quickly spotted the fake as a cross between a herring gull and a tern.