The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1932-02-16
TALKING
ITOVER
BY JOE WILLIAMS

NEW YORK, Feb. 16.-A pigmy
IN Of man, lean faced and
swarthy, stands poised at the top Of
a towering incline, more than a
hundred feet in length. It comes
TO a sharp, rising end, and imme-
diately below, some fifteen feet, an
other incline, longer and sleeper,
rolls down the snow banked noun
tain side strengthening out gradu-
ally until it reaches the flatlands.
Attached to the mans feet are long rar-
row blades Of polished wood which look
ike fence rails or bed Stats. Down at the
end Of the FIRST incline an official waves a
req nag. and the piRmy OF a man wigaies
ms grotesoue wooden supports into a posi-
ton OF comfort and Shoves of. Slowly at
hrst. but in second or so the sharpness
Of the descent and impetus Of his frail
Reaching the rising arc at the end OF
me hr .d i INC ne crouehes and springs
S 1ps INTO sn the SKIES les Up ne goes ana iar
the. circular stands 200 feet below he sug-
gests a stir looking stork on the wing.
wooden Stats turns inward too sharply. COL
lides with the other and the pigmv of a
man loses his balance. falls forward. turns
completely over. and drops to the earth.
like bombed plane.
oyer and over he rolls down the icy en-
splinters. the spectators frozen in silence
TWO men wearing Red Cross brassards pick
Bon b the stsecato at cat sne o. an ans
bulance bell. This is skiing. e. they call
IL sport.
A MOTHER mountain top. Four
L n men wearing medieval head
masks of leather with eye Sits take
their positions in a heavy iron sled
equipped with steel runners de-
signed to cut through snow and ice
at terrific speed. They sit there,
motionless, tightlipped, waiting for
the starters word that will send
them streaking through an icy gut
ter with twenty dips and turns,
three of which have been built pur-
posely to challenge nerve and cour-
age.
The run this dav is. particularly
turns are coated with glare ice The four
men are told that they shouldn't go down.
their heads in dissent one of them saws
something about 1t being their neeks."
s SO THEY o e. the o steel R Wgfs
plumes Of vapor foaming from the leather
helmets. Down at zig gag, last of the
ing dirge The pilot has lost control and
the 5OO-pound sled shoots over the top Of
the run and out into the bleak air.
conscious battered and mangled. The
fourth. somehow miraculously escapes un-
the injured men may never wholly re-
cover. This is bobsledding. they call it
sport.
IT'S a November day in the Yale
Il bowl, the annual game between
Old Eli and the Army. Tier after
tier in the rising stadium is packed
with eager partisans of both teams.
1t is a enthusiastically hard
fought struggle, replete with sem
sational twists and turns. A Yale
man takes an Army kickoff and,
hanked on either side by blue
shirted comrades, runs it back for
a touchdown, break that arouses
the cadets to a high fever of frenzy.
There is another kickoff. and again a
Yale man starts down the field for the
Army goal. This time every cadet in the
nc Of theme ne q wi h0e get
more determined than all the rest. Some
how he feels that he should have stopped
the other. run. Into a human barricade
The dull ,overtones of human forms
When 1t is cleared this small. gritty
youngster lies still, face downward, on the
Bulletin Teaa adet sheridan eTfd has mSSP s
fered a broken neck. His death is only q
They call 1t sport.
q
TINE scene is Philadelphia. |
i Eighty thousand people sit I'M
der black clouds waiting for two
heavyweights to climb into the ring.
Dempsey is making a comeback. His
opponent is a young Irishman from
the sidewalks of New York. Few
concede him a chance to win. The
gamblers are betting to l against
him. This guy Tunney2 Who'd he
ever lick, anyhow"
There is scattering of rain drops as
the gong sounds. The old man Killer
sh Is out Of his corner n head buried on
face. Wham A smashing right handler
to. the face stops him short in his tracks.
take such liberties with the great Demp-
sew?
aRSy5 it BY oq Rs bSv 04s RACES Sho Snd
doing the punching. Comes the seventh
round and Dempsey is bleeding at nose
and mouth. The eighth and he is t)tter-
ing on shaky legs. The ninth and his face
Is a mass of bruises.
The gong for the tenth and last round
and he is a sickening Autograph of
carnage. Both eyes are closed, To one of
his seconds he mumbles. lead me over to
his corner. want to shake his hand"
This is prize fighting they call it sport.
Stove Leag