In Record Time

At the annual Knights of Columbus games in Manhattan last week, the world's greatest miler, Glenn Cunningham, crouched on the same starting line with the year's flashiest middle-distance man, swiftfooted Negro John Borican. The distance was 1,000 yards, for which Elroy Robinson set the world's outdoor record of 2 min. 9.7 sec. in 1937. Veteran Starter Johnny McHugh, who has been sending track men off the mark for over 30 years, after two false starts raised his shiny little pistol and fired. They were away.

Borican led the pack through the half in an incredible 1153.2. Then Glenn Cunningham went out after him. At the end of five laps, with only the bell lap to go, Glenn was on the flying Negro's heels. Down the backstretch, Glenn put on his famous finishing sprint, tried to edge around Borican's shoulder. But Borican, wise in track ways, moved out. When Glenn tried to slither inside him, he moved toward the rail. He was still in front as the pair flashed over the finish line. When the time was announced the crowd went wild. It was 2:08.8, apparently a new world's record. Cunningham, too, was under the record, in 2:09.2.

But when Recorder John Price asked Starter McHugh to sign the affidavit certifying the performance for acceptance by the Amateur Athletic Union, McHugh shook his head, took the pen and wrote, "I certify that it was a false start. Borican, the winner, beat the gun by about one yard." Asked why he had not called the runners back, Veteran McHugh replied: "Truthfully, I don't know."

Ruled out, too, was Cunningham's record time from scratch. Reason: only two of the required three timers had clocked him over the line.

Budge v. Perry

The one man in tennis who got Donald Budge's number was British Fred Perry. That was in 1934-36, when Budge was just out of the juniors and Perry was the world's No. 1 Amateur. Perry took the redhead over in the Pacific Coast final in '34, the Davis Cup challenge round in '35, at Wimbledon and Forest Hills in '36. Budge beat Perry just twice, in unimportant matches. Then Perry turned professional and Budge went on to unparalleled tennis fame. Last year, for a guaranteed $75,000, Budge joined the pros.

Last week, having won 22 of his 39 matches with Ellsworth Vines, freckled Donald Budge faced feline Fred Perry and the old Indian sign in Manhattan's Madison Square Garden in the first of a 36-match series. Almost before the latecomers in the choice $7.70 seats had a chance to count their change, Budge was leading 5-1. Perry changed rackets, but the unsmiling Budge boomed off the seventh game, and the next set was on. For the first four games of this, Perry held the redhead even with a great and foxy effort, but Budge had too much for him. That set ended 6-3. The next ended 6-0. Perry made 67 errors, never once broke Budge's service, had not only lost his Indian sign but his vaunted forehand. But he offered no alibi. Said he: "I never got my head above water."

If the match established Budge as the world's most proficient tennis player, it gave pro-promoters the shudders. Even with a grudge-fight, Indian-sign buildup, it drew only 7,000 paying customers into the 16,000-seat Garden, grossed only $14,000. This was the same Perry who drew a record $53,000 Garden crowd when he beat Vines two years before; it was the same Budge who dusted off Ellsworth Vines there in January before 16,000 fans who paid $47,120; it was the same Garden Tilden used to pack with Cochet. The house was small because: 1) the January crowd was disappointed by Budge's easy victory over erratic Vines; 2) no expert conceded Perry a Chinaman's chance; 3) Budge's lack of showmanship, that divine sparkle that nobody since Tilden has displayed.

Next night in Boston, Perry managed to run one set to deuce twice, but lost 6-0, 6-2, 8-6. A snowstorm was blamed for Boston's turnout of only 3,753, but many followers of the game were ready to believe that pro tennis had slumped worse than Perry's forehand.

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