Mayhem in Maryland

When the Iroquois played lacrosse, it was quite a game. The Marquess of Queensberry would not have approved of it. The womenfolk, who were the rooters, ran up & down the sidelines with sticks, switching their men into action. The men tried to cripple as many opposing players as possible, and a game wasn't considered very spirited if there weren't a few broken skulls and fractured arms.

Last week, in a game that settled the white man's 1947 championship, the casualties were almost too minor to mention --one cracked lip, one barked shin. Civilization and 300 years had changed the game, but it still could not be called sissy. To avoid broken bones and bruises, modern players wear armor: forearm pads, shoulder pads, heavy-duty gloves, a helmet. And they have made a science of self-defense.

Production Line. The championship game last week was an all-Baltimore affair between Johns Hopkins University, longtime lord of the game, and the nearby Mount Washington Club, built around past Hopkins stars. Nobody was surprised at Baltimore's monopoly of the finals: though lacrosse is Canada's official national game, Baltimore is now the game's capital. When American kids everywhere else are reaching for baseball bats each spring, Baltimore's small fry fondle lacrosse sticks. (Baltimore is the largest Eastern city without a major-league baseball team.) Over a dozen Baltimore prep-school lacrosse teams send skilled players into Johns Hopkins and three other Maryland colleges. There is no middle ground among Baltimoreans: they either love the game or despise it.

Ride Him! Last week on Johns Hopkins' floodlit field, Baltimore's two unbeaten teams squared off against each other. The game they played was something like hockey without skates--with one big difference: the ball was not shuffled along the ground with hockey sticks but carried in a net on the end of a stick. The ball was scooped up first by a dark-jerseyed Hopkins man who cradled it in his webbed stick and bulled his way through Mount Washington's defense ring, plunging and twisting toward the goal. Around him he heard cries: "Ride him, you ... lay the wood on," and felt sticks slashed at him to get the ball away. With the game only 35 seconds old, the ball whizzed into the net; Hopkins had drawn first blood.

But 2 1/2 hours later, when all the clubbing and drubbing was over, the college boys had bowed to the clubmen. The flashiest player on the field was not a collegian or a graduate, but 17-year-old Billy Hooper, who looked out of place among his nine older Mount Washington teammates, but was right at home in the tussling. Hooper made half of his team's goals, scored the point that broke a tie 2 1/2 minutes before the game's end. Score: Mount Washington 6, Johns Hopkins 5.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.