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Original Issue



Because some basketball coaches have a deplorable tendency to jump around during games, inciting crowds and intimidating referees, college basketball has long had a rule penalizing these practices. Unhappily, the rule frequently was ignored by coaches and too often by officials. Then last year Rule 10, Section 7 was amended rather drastically, to the point where, with limited exceptions, coaches were forbidden even to rise from the bench during play or to make any sign of displeasure with officials' calls. The amendment became a subject of much complaint among coaches.

This year talk about Rule 10, Section 7 has all but disappeared, and so, apparently, has the rule change itself, since fewer and fewer officials are calling it. (The Big Ten has instructed its officials virtually to ignore it.')

We have always felt that coaches must be prevented from bullying officials and arousing ugly emotion in a crowd, but it is hard to expect a coach to sit like a mummy throughout a game. The current rule is too strict; the old one made sense. But the way to create respect for it was to enforce it, not discredit it by exaggerating its purpose.


The rickety frame houses, the bars that tunnel back as dank as caves, Thames Street with its crankcase-cracking cobblestones, the pawn shops full of salty junk—these were what made Newport, R.I. a heady port for yachtsmen who more and more have to scrape their salt off cinder blocks and plastic.

Well, say goodby to all that. Newport's "old city," 73 acres of it, is about to be rehabilitated Such charmingly seedy haunts as the Blue Moon Gardens are being demolished to make room for a 108-room motel. Neat docks will take the place of wobbling, barnacle-encrusted piers. A spiffy new restaurant will do in Kukla's Kitchen with its shoe-tongue hamburgers. Trees and a concrete esplanade will confront the ferry that once seemed to steam straight into an impregnable patchwork of clapboard houses.

The crowds will find more rooms to rent, all right, and better food to buy. Everything will be more efficient, more hygienic. Pedestrians won't have to bulldoze each other off narrow sidewalks. The benefits are irrefutable. Still, we are going to miss that comfortable old print that once was Newport.


Now, where would you expect a Hoosier school board to schedule its weekly meeting? At a gym during half time of a basketball game? Yup.

That's exactly where the Bartholomew Consolidated School Board met recently to consider bids for draperies and shades—just 20 feet from the Columbus High School court. "It was simply the most convenient time to get all the members together," an official explained.


Some employees at Rocketdyne, one of the most sophisticated think-tank industries in southern California, find simple pleasure in killing off predators that penetrate too far into metropolitan areas. A recent hunt rid an area right alongside the San Diego Freeway near Sunset Boulevard of numerous foxes, hawks, owls, bobcats and coyotes. Mostly the Rocketdyne varmint-slayers use calls, luring the quarry into believing there is an injured animal in the area. This causes the hunted to come to the hunter, making a lot of walking and stalking unnecessary. First is the attention-getter, a loud scream of pain. Then come the "scramble" noises imitating an injured mate trying to escape. Last is a kind of low moan, a weak sound of an animal near death.

The group, affiliated with all the proper conservation organizations, is called Predators Unlimited. It seems a very appropriate name, somehow.


Johnny Temple, onetime All-Star second baseman who seemed to feel his hustle was in question anytime he wasn't in some kind of ruckus, now operates his Houston television program the same way. In a medium where the boldest stand is usually taken in forecasting weather, Temple seldom pauses and usually refreshes.

Johnny, for example, noted that the Cardinals, after trading away three-fourths of the majors' most-envied infield, announced that they were embarking on a youth program. "What they mean," Temple explained, "is that they figure they aren't going anywhere for three or four years, and they have the chance to trade $150,000 in salaries for about $50,000. So they did it."

Temple applies the same frankness to himself. "I've had to practice to shut up," he says. "For 12 years in the majors I was the one who did all the talking in interviews. It's hard to break the habit."

But he defends his forthrightness. "I don't try to be fresh or anything," he clarifies, "but when I hear someone blow smoke on the truth, it just plain bothers me."


Ice hockey teams like to toughen up their goalies with rugged drills. Teammates pepper the harried man in the net with every kind of shot, from the blue line to point-blank. The national teams of Czechoslovakia and Russia (SI, Jan. 3) used such drills in Colorado Springs, Colo. recently in preparation for that city's International Hockey Week, then startled spectators with an added bit of mayhem.

All players but the goalies left the ice and the coaches, armed with handfuls of pucks, stood 10 to 12 feet away facing the centers of the cages. They began throwing the hard-rubber discs with Koufax-like speed, sometimes aiming at the corners to test reflexes and sometimes right at the goalies' heads. Coaches and targets gave out with great bear grunts during the 10-minute mano a mano drill, but all left the ice smiling.

Not surprisingly, Russia's goalie, Victor Konovalenko, was superb that night in helping his team beat Canada 6-2.


Recently SCORECARD (SI, Jan. 3), reporting that a relatively unknown football player was getting exactly as large a bonus as rumor had it, suggested that the immensely coveted Donny Anderson would still be collecting bonus payments in the year 2000. Had he signed with Houston, it now appears, he literally could have collected into the 1990s.

Oilers' President Bud Adams, called "the Largest Mouth West of the Mississippi" by no less an authority than old George Halas, claims he offered Texas Tech's Anderson the following deal:

A sum equaling 11% of $887,000, to be paid immediately.

A sum equaling 24% of $887,000, to be paid over the next three years.

Over the 10 years after that, 30% more.

A sum equaling 20% of $887,000, to be paid over a 15-year period after he quit playing.

Fifteen percent more: 6% in a capital gains deal payable when the player reached age 32 and another 9% payable over the next 5 years.

Anderson, you will remember, signed with Green Bay.

If you need further proof of owners' generosity, consider the words of Texas Tech Tackle John Porter. "They're going to give me $50,000," says Porter, "just because I lockered next to Donny Anderson for three years."


The 4,269 residents of Truth or Consequences, N. Mex. generally refer to their town as "T or C." The local justice of the peace, however, likes to see the name spelled out—in action as well as words.

J. P. Roy Maddux had a problem recently when two angry young businessmen came to him with a dispute over a $27.64 debt. Three times he tried to settle the matter, but the men never did agree on the truth; consequently, the longer the case continued, the angrier they grew.

Well a J. P. is interested in peace as well as justice, so Maddux finally decided on a western-style solution. He told the defendants he would let them fight it out.

Then he got someone to lend him 16-ounce gloves. "Big ole pillows," said the judge. "I knew they wouldn't hurt anybody, and I knew there are times when this works: I was a first sergeant in the Army for nine years."

Word got out and everyone in town wanted to see the contest, but the judge kept out all spectators. "I kinda blacked out this area," he observed.

The men fought, with Judge Maddux as referee. Plaintiff overwhelmed defendant; plaintiff was awarded $27.64. "The two shook hands and I think they are going to be friends," says Maddux. "And they are friends with me, too."

A major college basketball team—it will go unnamed here on the chance that it has already changed its evil ways—has received a number of technical fouls this year for obscene language to officials. The coach may or may not have found a way to stop it. Calling time-out the other night, he admonished, "The next one of you————s that gets a technical for cussin' I'm gonna suspend for three games."


The sudden decision of Lou Saban, the successful coach of the AFL champion Buffalo Bills, to return to college coaching (at Maryland) reintroduces to professional football a feeling it had almost forgotten: a slight twinge of worry about the future, even if the cloud on the horizon is barely the size of a man's contract-signing hand.

"Lou was unhappy about all the money being paid to rookies," said Bills' owner Ralph Wilson, speaking for Saban and perhaps for himself. "He sees a lot of perils in the new era of pro football. He doesn't think it's the same game. Dealing with lawyers and accountants instead of selling the boy on our club has taken a lot of the fun out of it."

In other words, says another man in the Buffalo organization, "They're taking the game away from the coaches."


The trend to higher and higher scoring in basketball never ceases to amaze. A prophetic vision of where it may lead seems to have come to an 8-year-old in Salt Lake City who recently wrote the following small masterpiece in honor of his big brother, who plays basketball in a local church league:

The Story
How Jim Wins His Team

"Jim was pracsing basketball and they asked him to play in the game. So the next night he went to the game. And so the team starred the gaim.

"At the first of the game Jim got 7 poytes. Then he got 9 poytes and then he got 920 poytes. He played and played and played.

"And then he WON the game. They chird for him. He got a metl."


This year the famed Monte Carlo Automobile Rally (January 14-20), one of road-racing's most important events, will differ markedly and perhaps advantageously from past versions.

From the usual nine starting points—including Minsk and Warsaw—244 two-man teams will, as customary, drive several thousand miles in several days and nights nonstop across Europe and over the Alps in midwinter. Instead of a final common lap from Chambery down to Monte Carlo, however, the drivers will take different routes all the way to Monaco. Then, after a bit of rest, survivors will race over an 800-mile common circuit from Monte Carlo to Chamonix and back. Finally, a day later, the best 60 will compete in a kind of playoff: an exhausting overnight 375-mile race through the tortuous Maritime Alps of southern France.



•Alex Sandusky, Baltimore Colts regular offensive guard, retiring after 12 years at the age of 33: "The new players keep getting better, and it makes you think you're getting worse."

•Keith Erickson, San Francisco Warrior rookie, when asked what he was doing during a recent melee between San Francisco and St. Louis players and coaches: "Looking for an empty seat in the second row of Section 5."

•Al McGuire, Marquette basketball coach, after losing to smaller, more aggressive Loyola of Chicago: "Loyola has a different type of kid than we do. They come from a different background. They're tough. They battle. When there was a ball loose on the floor, who got it? Loyola. They just want it more."