The Waterbury Democrat., 1932-03-31
To-day's Sport
Parade
BY HENRY McLEMORE
United Press STAFF Correspondent.

United Press Staff Correspondent.
New York, March 31.-(UP)-
This is a success story, one that
stands to inspire young and old.
It is q better story than the one
about the young man who, greeted
with jeers when he sat down to
play the piano, went on to speak TO
the waiter in French. And much
more inspirational than the story
Of the chap who, dissatisfied with
his salary of $4,000 O. year, sold
Congressional Records in his spare
time and soon rose to the head of
great DISCRIMINATING firm at $50 per
week.
This is a story about a guy who
wouldn't give up. He was a very
ordinary guy, this guy. His biceps
did not bulge, and beneath his sal
low skin no muscles rippled like
running water. On the contrary,
he was SO weak he couldn't use a
revolving door unless q Kate
Smith was coming through the
other side. He had fallen arches,
pink toothbrush, spots before his
eyes and a buzzing in his ears.
But underneath this frail Frame
work beat a heart that knew no
defeat. This guy was determined
to be a sports champion. He
swore to himself that nothing would
thwart his ambition. not even
death. For tree years his was a
story of heoroic failure. He tried
football first, spending three
months on a deserted field study
ing the intricacies Of the dropkick.
Threatened by the authorities, he
shifted to billiards. He gave this
up only after tearing up 81 tables
trying to make a masse shot.
He. broke both legs In his at
tempt to become hurdler. and a
pony sat in his lap on his first
whirl at polo. Then came fenc-
cling, and he soon was as full Of
holes as an adult Swiss cheese.
Boxing, rowing, running, archery,
badminton and bowling followed in
that order, and he was a failure in
each.
His list of sports well night ex-
hausted, the man took up ping
pong. He started slowly, using
coffee table at first. Then he start
ed swatting them on a kitchen
table, and gradually worked up to
a dressing table. Months went by
as he advanced from dressing
tables through dining room tables.
Living room tables and round
tables. It was six months after
he was in the dressing table stage
he could only ping. Undiscouraged,
he worked on. IL was while work.
ing on the living room table that
he found he could pong. too.
Spurred by this turning Of the
tide, he worked feverishly, some
times spending 70 hours at the
table. During these sessions he
scorned food and drink, depending
entirely. on steak and hot coffee to
keep him alive. Then came the
day when he knew he could i'm
prove no more. His forehand was
devastating, his backhand, a
beauty, his strategy JOY forever,
and his cunning as battling as
ferryboat schedule printed in Chi
nese.
Ready for the supreme test, he
sat down and waited on invitations
to tournaments. He waited a week.
Two weeks. Three weeks. A month.
Six months. Would he never be
asked to play? Never be given a
chance to demonstrate his amazing
skill? 1t certainly looked that
way.
And then came to-day's mail. He
opened the first letter. An invita-
ton to attend house warming at
Mattewan. He opened the second,
little note telling him his Uncle
hadCharlie had died, leaving him
million dollars. He tossed it
aside and picked UP the third and
last envelope.
He gave it quick once-over and
then shouted with Joy. He danced
jig. He cut a caper. He sang
songs. He wept with exultation.
When he Gained down he read the
contents of the letter again, Just
to make sure. Yes. 1t was true,
There, in black and white. was an
invitation to compete in the first
annual national amauter ping pong
tournament on April Is and 16,
and at the Waldorf Astoria. too,
And in the grand ballroom. three.
and before thousands of folks. four.
And for the national champion
ship. five.
Why the man Is so excited right
now it's wonder he ever got this
column finished.