As part of an Appreciation Evening for Bill Yeoman, who has made the University of Houston a power in college football, grateful fans presented the coach with one of the World's most decadent golf carts, a $3,000 model that includes a television set, a radio and an ice cooler, and is painted in the Cougars' red and white colors. Yeoman, a rabid golfer, is building a home adjoining the 18th fairway of the posh Sugar Creek Country Club, and the cart seemed just the thing. But there was a catch. Sugar Creek has an exclusive franchise contract with a particular golf-cart manufacturer, and Bill's buggy was the wrong brand. Wasn't even allowed on the course. But Yeoman's boosters came up with a Texas-type solution. They bought him a second cart, this time of the proper marque.
Clyde Kluttz, a director of scouting for the New York Yankees, selected—in the 17th round of the free-agent draft—a right-handed pitcher from Pittsburg, Kans. named Samuel Mishmash. Kluttz said the selection of Mishmash was "indicative of our organization."
Petite Suzie Hawes, at 105 pounds only a third the size of some competitors, was runner-up in the seventh annual sausage-eating contest at Polock Johnny's in Baltimore. You can see exactly how she felt about it after finishing her 18th Polish sausage. Another one? "I got to go to work now," Miss Hawes said. "In a restaurant. I feel very sick."
Bob Mitchell and Glenn MacDonald, competitors in the Vancouver City Amateur golf tournament, were locked in a "sudden death" playoff believed to be the longest in history. Tied after the regulation number of holes on Sunday, June 2, they played on for 14 more holes and were still tied when darkness fell. They resumed the playoff the next Sunday and went 18 more holes in a medal round before Mitchell finally won. More like lingering death.
The best streaker in the Cardinal organization is one Ray Bare, a pitcher for Tulsa. Bare opened the season with six straight victories.
A pigeon owned by Queen Elizabeth beat 200 other birds in a 140-mile race at Winchester. Her Royal Majesty collected $7.20 in prize money.
Gertrude Peoples is the only known female recruiter for football, basketball, track and wrestling teams. As Director of Student Athletic Services at the University of Washington, she specializes in recruits with academic or personal problems. In those areas, she says, her sex is an advantage. "Because of the mother-son image, the kids are able to show moments of weakness or even cry with me," she explains. "With a man, they'd have to be supermen, but with me they can be human." But recruiting trips can have their moments. One prospective Huskie, opening his door to the 41-year-old Peoples, blurted, "I knew you were coming, but I didn't know you'd be you."
Addressing the House of Representatives in Flag Day ceremonies, Henry Aaron presented his state of the national pastime speech. Later on, making a point of foreign policy, he said he would like to meet Japanese home-run king Sadaharu Oh in a home-run hitting exhibition.
Peter Falk, who plays a disheveled police detective in the Columbo television series, is a fanatic golfer. He took his participation in the recent Desert Inn Classic so seriously that he practiced putting at the Desert Inn Country Club late into the night. What he didn't know was that the course has automatic sprinklers that go off at a preset time. After taking a bath out on the putting green, Falk observed, "The one time I need that raincoat, I don't have it."
John Lowenstein, a 26-year-old third baseman for the Cleveland Indians, wants no part of a fan club. He prefers, instead, an apathy club. "The people who start fan clubs do it for a publicity gimmick, and I don't care for it," Lowenstein says. "Eve turned down about a half dozen fan clubs already. They're a big hassle." But he says he's received a lot of response to the idea of a Lowenstein Apathy Club. "Most of the people want to join," he says. "The Apathy Club could have a day for me when I'm benched or injured or not in the lineup. Or it could be a day when we're not playing." The club stationery would be blank paper, and all members would be required to make a pilgrimage to Wolf Point, Mont., Lowenstein's birthplace. Apathy Clubbers would watch games in silence. "Cheering is bad for a player," Lowenstein says. "It gives a false sense of importance. And booing indicates that a fan cares about you." His ideas are already taking hold. Lowenstein came to bat in a recent game with two runners on, after striking out in three previous appearances. "It was very quiet, and some fan yelled, 'Apathy, Apathy, go for four,' " Lowenstein says. "I had to step out and laugh."