Imperial Valley press., 1935-01-11
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By HENRY McLEMoRE


United Press Staff Correspondent
NEW YORK, Jan. 11.--Dressed
for the part in my cauliflower ears.
round heels, patent leather shoes
and polo coat, and jauntily swing
ing my Malacca chisel, I strolled
boxing's boulevards from the cir
Gle to the square today, and gath
cred an earful of utterly useless
information. ~
Why tell us about it then, can
hear my Battle Greek friend ask
ing, To be perfectly honest.
there's nothing much else to write
about. In these long, wintry days
fellow is glad to get any sort of
information, even though its high
ly useless.
You wouldn't have me write
about basketball, would you? I saw
my first game in five years the.
other night, and it might have
been all right If those two terrific.
cops out on the floor with their
whistles had been kept at head
quarters, and the boys allowed to
go ABOUT Lner business. 70
And certainly you want rest
from tennis. One more word about
the boys in the ice cream pants
and terrific forehands and III
well, I'll bust catgut. There's
nothing happening in golf. True,
the rules committee revised rule
the other day, but they clothed it
in such section 2. paragraph one,
clause B language that all could
make out of it was that If you
found a rabbit sitting on your ball
in the fairway you could remove
him provided you didn't use
sand wedge.
There might be something hap
pening in polo, but I lost my back
bay accent during a spell of the
flu few weeks ago, and haven't
been able to get near polo play
er since. And to go into the polo
association offices speaking the
pure Castillian sanskrit do, is to
be told that no one there is inter-
ested in buying any home made
fudge nor shoe laces.
OF course, there's always SWIM
ming, but the only thing that ever
happens in swimming is the crea-
tion of new world records, and
that's no good, for before your
stuff gets printed the boys and
girls have already broken some
more.
Speed boat racing is out. The
only man to talk to is Gar Wood
and every time I see Mr.. Wood I
| always want to ask him how he
| managed to make the nation for,
get that ruse he pulled on poor old
Kaye Don few years back. That
always let's me out, for Mr.. Wood,
for some reason or other, doesn't
like to talk about that.
Baseball is no go, because the
Babe is out of town. In fact, it
looks like tough winter for the
baseball writer's. what with no
fountain pen skirmish between
Babe and Colonel Jake. Bill Ter
ry might be good for a few lines.
now that he has given the press
luncheon and extended the good
hand of fellowship. The fact that
Bills luncheon, the first he ever
rendered the boys in Is years of
baseball, came when he was on the
spot, lets him out as far as I'm
concerned. I don't like my pork
chops fired in soap, especially soft
soap.
I can't very well talk about foot
ball. That brings up Harlow, Har-,
ward and those college boy editors
of the Crimson who don't know
where Western Maryland is. May
be the little boys will find out
when, and if, they grow up.
Did somebody suggest wrestling?
Nothing new there. Hasn't been
since Jeems, the gorgeous Greek.
proved he could draw $4,000
house night after night. And there
won't be until he proves he can't.
Somehow, I don't believe I'll ever,
get around to telling that useless
boxing information I picked up. In
fact, I'm cutting right here.