Imponderables: Fun and Games (3 page)

B
ecause dimples are cute?

No. We should have known better than to think that golfers, who freely wear orange pants in public, would worry about cosmetic appearances.

Golf balls have dimples because in 1908 a man named Taylor patented this cover design. Dimples provide greater aerodynamic lift and consistency of flight than a smooth ball. Jacque Hetric, director of Public Relations at Spalding, notes that the dimple pattern, regardless of where the ball is hit, provides a consistent rotation of the ball after it is struck.

Janet Seagle, librarian and museum curator of the United States Golf Association, says that other types of patterned covers were also used at one time. One was called a “mesh,” another the “bramble.” Although all three were once commercially available, “the superiority of the dimpled cover in flight made it the dominant cover design.”

Although golfers love to feign that they are interested in accuracy, they lust after power: Dimpled golf balls travel farther as well as straighter than smooth balls. So those cute little dimples will stay in place until somebody builds a better mousetrap.

Submitted by Kathy Cripe of South Bend, Indiana.

T
he Three Swordsmen sounds like a decent
enough title for a book, if not an inspiring name for a candy bar, so why did Dumas choose
The Three Musketeers
? Dumas based his novel on
Memoirs of Monsieur D’Artagnan
, a fictionalized account of “Captain-Lieutenant of the First Company of the King’s Musketeers.” Yes, there really was a company of musketeers in France in the seventeenth century.

Formed in 1622, the company’s main function was to serve as bodyguard for the King (Louis XIII) during peacetime. During wars, the musketeers were dispatched to fight in the infantry or cavalry; but at the palace, they were the
corps d’élite
. Although they were young (mostly seventeen to twenty years of age), all had prior experience in the military and were of aristocratic ancestry.

According to Dumas translator Lord Sudley, when the musketeers were formed, they “had just been armed with the new flintlock, muzzle-loading muskets,” a precursor to modern rifles. Unfortunately, the musket, although powerful enough to pierce any armor of its day, was also extremely cumbersome. As long as eight feet, and the weight of two bowling balls, they were too unwieldy to be carried by horsemen. The musket was so awkward that it could not be shot accurately while resting on the shoulder, so musketeers used a fork rest to steady the weapon. Eventually, the “musketeers” were rendered musket-less and relied on newfangled pistols and trusty old swords.

Just think of how muskets would have slowed down the derring-do of the three amigos. It’s not easy, for example, to slash a sword-brandishing villain while dangling from a chandelier, if one has a musket on one’s back.

Submitted by John Bigus of Orion, Illinois.

W
hen you conjure up an image of bruising football players, the French don’t immediately spring to mind. But Notre Dame was indeed founded by a French Catholic, Father Edward Frederick Sorin, in 1842. Sorin had been a member of a religious order in France, Holy Cross Motherhouse of Notre Dame de Ste. Croix. This order specialized in missionary work and Sorin was chosen to lead a group of seven brothers to establish a center for Catholic education and missionary work in Indiana. Northern Indiana already had a strong French presence, as many of the first white men in the territory were French explorers, missionaries, and fur trappers of French-Canadian descent.

Sorin named his new school the University of Notre Dame du Lac, a tribute to his seminary back in France; “du Lac” was a nod to the two lakes on the forest land that Sorin had chosen to situate the university. While the university’s original goal was to produce clergy, it soon welcomed non-Catholics and those interested in non-religious studies.

In the huge wave of immigration to the United States in the nineteenth century, many Irish Catholics settled in the Midwest; indeed, many Americans equated “Catholic” with “Irish.” When Notre Dame started competing in intercollegiate athletics, many newspapers referred to its teams as the “Catholics,” even though the school had no official nickname. In press accounts, many schools are referred to by their religious affiliation (yes, “the Catholics” battled “the Methodists” and “the Baptists” at football).

But where did “Fighting Irish” come from? What’s a nice school established to train seminarians doing with a warlike nickname? Autumn Gill, a public relations representative from Notre Dame, told
Imponderables that although no one knows for sure,
there are two main theories (documented in a book Gill recommended, Murray Sperber’s
Shake Down the Thunder
). The first theory is that “Fighting Irish” was an epithet hurled
at
the Notre Dame team by fans of its opponent, Northwestern, in 1889. The Wildcat fans, who were behind in the game, yelled: “Kill the Fighting Irish, kill the Fighting Irish.” The other story is that the term came from the lips of Notre Dame halfback, Pete Vaughn, who in a 1909 game against Michigan, tried to motivate his teammates (who were mostly Irish-American) when they were behind by yelling: “What’s the matter with you guys? You’re all Irish and you’re not fighting.” When the press heard about Vaughn’s outburst, especially since Notre Dame went on to win the game, reporters dubbed the team the “Fighting Irish.”

But the nickname didn’t stick until the 1920s. In the first part of the twentieth century, Indiana press referred to the team as the “Catholics” or less flattering variations, such as the “Papists,” “Horrible Hibernians,” and even “Dirty Irish” or “Dumb Micks.” Campus publications avoided the pejorative terms, and often referred to the teams by the school colors, “the Gold and Blue,” and occasionally as “the Irish.” Obviously, the campus administration wasn’t wild about slurs against Catholics or ethnic groups, but the students embraced the “Irish” name and liked “Fighting” for its emphasis on spirit and playfulness. In campus publications, students insisted that “you don’t have to be from Ireland to be Irish” and that naysayers should “cultivate some of that fighting Irish spirit.” A late 1910 visit from Eamon De Valera, who was soon to be president of the Irish Republic, solidified the students’ embrace of “Fighting Irish.”

Three men popularized the nickname outside of South Bend. Knute Rockne, the legendary football coach, turned the Notre Dame team into a powerhouse. Rockne hired student press agents and encouraged them to use “Fighting Irish” in their dispatches. One of those press agents, Francis Wallace, moved to New York and became a successful sportswriter. He disliked the then-prevalent nicknames for Notre Dame, such as “Rambling Irish,” “Rockne’s Rovers,” and “Wandering Irish,” as all implied that the team’s players traveled at the expense of their studies. Wallace’s writings were picked up by the wire services, and he insisted on using “Fighting Irish.” In 1927, President Matthew Walsh made it official, adopting “Fighting Irish” as the school’s permanent nickname.

Of course, Catholics are more likely to root for Notre Dame than other religious groups, but Catholics from all over Europe and South America have emigrated to the United States, and yet seem loyal to a team named after one ethnic group. There were plenty of non-Irish members of Rockne’s powerhouses, as the press loved to point out to him. But he always retorted:

Submitted by Jennifer Conrad of Springfield, Pennsylvania.
Thanks also to Margaret Levin of Belle Vernon, Pennsylvania.

C
onsidering the urgency with which characters in movies bark orders to boil water as soon as it becomes evident a woman is going to give birth at home, we assumed there
was a better reason for the
command than to rustle up some tea. But we’ve never seen the boiled water actually being used on-screen.

Most of the medical authorities we contacted echoed the sentiments of Dr. Steven P. Shelov, professor of pediatrics at the Montefiore Medical Center:

Obviously, it can’t hurt to sterilize equipment that comes in contact with the mother or baby, such as scissors, cord clamps, white shoelaces (used in lieu of cord clamps), syringes, and tongs (used to lift the other sterile items), or even more important, to sterilize other household implements commandeered to act as sterilized medical equipment.

But boiling water isn’t confined to emergency deliveries. Midwives have been boiling water for years for planned home deliveries. Most attempt to boil sterile equipment for thirty minutes and then place instruments in a covered dish (syringes are usually wrapped in a sterile cloth).

Dr. William Berman, of the Society for Pediatric Research, indicated that it couldn’t hurt to sterilize water for washrags used to cleanse mother and baby, whether they are washcloths or ripped-up bed sheets. Actually, it
could hurt—if they forget to let the
boiled water cool down.

Submitted by Scott Morwitz of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
Thanks also to Jil McIntosh of Oshawa, Ontario; and
Dr. John Hardin of Greenfield, Indiana.

Y
ou mean you didn’t know that the dot was to cover up the nerve canal of an elephant? Doesn’t anyone receive a proper liberal arts education anymore?

The earliest billiard tables and balls, created during the Renaissance in England, were made out of wood. Sometime during the seventeenth century, ivory balls were introduced. The British were already importing tons of ivory from Africa every year, and billiards players found the new ivory balls much more pleasing in weight, appearance, and sound (the lovely clicking noise when two balls collided).

But there was a serious problem with making a ball out of an elephant’s tusk. Elephants have nerve canals running through the middle of their teeth, just like we do. To achieve an even, “honest” roll, the craftsmen carved the balls so that the nerve canal ran straight through the center, creating dark imperfections at opposite ends of each ball. The ball crafters would usually plug the ball with something to assure even weighting. In the early days of billiards, ebony was often used to plug the canals, so that the holes appeared to be black dots.

By the early seventeenth century, ivory balls were more popular than wooden ones in England, and became the only balls used in serious competitions. But there were problems associated with these ebony-stuffed ivory balls. In his article in
Amateur Billiard Player
magazine, Peter Ainsworth explains:

As they gained more experience in fashioning ivory balls, craftsmen realized that the ivory taken from near the base of the tusk was difficult to work with, as the nerve hole was wider than those nearer the tip. To assure equal weighting, some ball makers would demand only the center of the tusk in order to line up the nerve canal through the ball’s center. In an e-mail to
Imponderables
, Peter Clare, whose family owns Thurston, one of the oldest and most respected manufacturers of billiard equipment, noted that top-quality ivory balls of this era had “very small evidence” of the nerve, sometimes insignificant enough to be covered by black dye rather than a solid material.

But the price of this expertise came high, and not just in terms of money. One tusk could yield material for only two or three balls. Elephants were being slaughtered to provide four or six billiard balls! According to Titan Sports, an English billiard-supply company, in the peak years of production, 12,000 elephants were slaughtered annually just to supply Britain with billiard balls.

In the late nineteenth century, plastic balls rolled to the rescue to supplant ivory. The first plastic balls were made out of celluloid, and later plastic resins, which, except for inferior acetate balls, are what most pool and billiard balls are composed of today.

So if modern pool balls are plastic, with no nerve holes in sight, why are there dots on balls today? Actually, not all cue balls do sport dots—not even the majority. But dots still appear on many balls, for a very practical reason. John Lewis, director of leagues and programs at the Billiards Congress of America, the governing body of pocket billiards (“pool”) in the United States, explains:

In other words, the all-white cue ball is the best possible “billboard” for an advertisement for the manufacturer, just as the white space on the ace of spades provides the requisite white space for a plug for the card maker.

The most popular carom billiard games (featuring tables without pockets), such as English billiards and three-cushion billiards, are played with only three balls: one red, and one cue ball for each of the two players. A player is not allowed to shoot the opponent’s cue ball, so it is important that each player be able to easily identify whose cue ball is whose. Usually, one cue ball is pure white; the other has a dot, a colored circle, or a logo to distinguish it from the other. More often than not, there are two dots on billiard cue balls, so that the mark is distinguishable if one dot is flush against the table.

Anyone who has seen
The Graduate or listened to
Frank Zappa can attest to the poor public relations that the plastics industry has endured. But the pool and billiards industry is mighty pleased with its adoption of plastic balls, which are cheaper and easier to manufacture. Players are happy with their perfect roundness and true roll. And elephants are downright ecstatic about them.

Submitted by Patricia Roberts, via the Internet.