The gamecock. (Columbia, S.C.) 1908-2006, April 07, 1982, Page Page 5, Image 5
Athlete Defen
TO THE EDITOR
The March 29 column concerning Georgetown's Pat Ewing
was entirely devoid of facts. In the process of making
allegations against Ewing, the writer brought into question
the quality and character of black athletes in general. First
of all, my Christianity restrains r <s from saying, or doing
what I really feel should be done. However, I cannot say the
same for some of my athletic colleagues whom you so
casually offended. We, are sick and tired of cynical,
1 X ! _. l _ 1 i. 11 1
narrowminaea, inexperienced, incompetent, so cauea
writers exploiting our God-given abilities in order to justify
something that they themselves were never able to do.
So what if an athlete has one hundred colleges knocking at
his door? That's not an excuse for you to take potshots
because no one beat a path to your door. Allow that wave of
incompetence that's slashing within your brain (or should I
say against the walls of your skull) to subside long enough for
you to see that athletics is and has been a vehicle for the
"poor underpriviledged soul" to break the age old chains of
ghetto that has been "systematically" placed upon him.
When a "poor under-priviledged, deprived soul" came up
from the ghettos of Atlanta and won the Heisman Trophy at
Smith Parnlina nn Hnnht von had a front row seat on thfi
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ds Athletics
bandwagon. Be consistent or keep your comments to yourself.
Athletes place their minds and bodies at the alter and
willingly 'present them as a sacrifice' in order to make
people like you proud of your school. I, for one have a broken
leg and have been in a cast for 28 weeks to prove it! What
have you done? And if your 'ghetto-child' doesn't want to
major in chemical engineering or medicine, allow him to
reserve that right if he so chooses, It seAis to me that you
are suggesting that we avoid the major universities of our
country and go to schools "where we belong." And how many
of those "legitimate students" of your stature establish
businesses and practices in the ghetto to help alleviate the
sufferings of "those poor underpriviledged souls?"
By your observations, you continued to sustain that it is you
that possess a poverty stricken mentality and it is you that is
deprived, and I even go as far as to question your presence al
a major university. The Gamecock's ability to foster jour
nalists of your calibur continues to amaze me. Who knows
mavbe vou too will come ud with some hairbrained scheme tc
abolish Student Government or maybe college altogether!
PERCY REEVES
Political Science Majoi
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Fletcher Johnson ^
Acting Editor-in-Chief
"TCecinernmsurageJrwiffi
cash in order to feed my face or should I take the risk.
Hedging my bets, I called. The slightly miffed voice on the
end of the line replied yes, there would be refreshments at the
reception to honor the one and only. Splendid, I thought to
myself, the price of a phone call is a fair price for a meal.
The evening wore on, and at the appointed hour myself and
several of my comrades in education ventured into the
reception hall.
People began filtering in, most dressed in a fairly
respectable manner, most of which I had never seen before in
my life, a few of which I knew,'and some of which I hoped I
would never see again. While I was ceriifiably hungry and
ate my share of the fixings there was one fellow in particular
who had that terrible gaunt look of a tapeworm-ridden
refugee or an habitual marathon runner in his eyes. It is ofttimes
hard to make the distinction, and in this care the
behavior was identical. He was a walking talking wheezing
consumption machine. No edible item was safe in his nearby
surroundings. Even the little plastic fringes on the hors
d'oeuvre toothpicks were not safe. I knew we were in trouble
when he picked up an ashtray and filled it with meatballs and
several other things.
Thp othf?r thirttfs mprit discission in and of themselves. The
culinary delights which were assembled before us were
unique to be polite and gruesomely strange if one wanted to
come nearer the truth. There was the usual compliment of
sandwiches. No one can screw up a pimento cheese sandwich.
Then there were a few other items. There were
meatballs made of the ground diced roasted toasted broiled
boiled and fried tissues of some animal, the likes of which I
have never tasted on this planet and never hope to taste
again. Then there was a container of these little yellowishgreen
balls. Each one was about the size of a cherry tomato
(more to come on these babies later) and had a rather surprising,
but delicious taste. They could have been spinach,
they could have been algae, they could have been seaweed. I
am not qualified to say. Lastly in the gastronomical realm
there was a large pan of a truly unusua l substance. This stuff
was hotter than nine hells. It appeared to be macaroni with
ham chunks on a base of old french bread. There were these
little heating devices under it that made sure no one mistook
it for a cold dish. If you lack excitement in your life you
should try eating a chunk of this stuff with a tooth pick. It
makes one appreciate the simple things of life like knives and
forks. Sitting next to Dante's macaroni surprise was a
vegetable tray with stuffed celery and several cherry
tomatoes (the little suckers about the size of the aforementioned
green things) spread around for garnish. No one
ate any of the veggies, except the one and only, Gordon
Liddy. But then he did a lot of strange things, right, Tom? .
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