Word: lads
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...Mickey Lolich, left-handed mound ace of the Detroit Tigers. Mickey explains the pot easily. "Big bellies run in my family. All the male Lolichs have them." The cycle fetish and the sinistral fastball derive from a childhood accident. When Lolich was a lad of three in Portland, Ore., his tricycle collided with a motorcycle, which crushed his left shoulder. Although the shoulder healed properly, the doctor gave Mickey throwing exercises to strengthen his arm. The exercises worked so well that now, at 31, Lolich is baseball's premier lefthanded hurler. As for the bikes: "My mother hated motorcycles...
...typical Tartan gang member is Jim Tipping, a long-haired lad of 18 who has a crest of Protestant banners tattooed upon his scarred right arm. The scar is a relic of an I.R.A. gunshot wound that Tipping suffered while walking down a Belfast street six weeks ago. Tipping's gang, the Shankhill Tartans, has hundreds of members, who spend much of their time lolling on street corners and shouting anti-Catholic slogans on Saturday afternoons. They were reared in an atmosphere of sectarian bitterness and bigotry, and their attitudes show it. "I hate them," Tipping says...
Worn by repetition, the story of how a boy becomes a man can still be a revelation. So it is in My Uncle Antoine, an earthy, substantial Canadian movie about a few days in the life of a lad called Benoit. The setting is contemporary-a small mining town in Quebec-but there is an appropriate aura of timelessness about it. Director Claude Jutra (Take It All) approaches the excellent Clement Perron screenplay with such intuition and insight that he manages to make Benoit's initiation at once universal and unique...
...third baseman charged in to make the play, but Bilodeau beat his throw to second, and McGugan was safe at first. The next better walked to lad the bases, and then Larry Barbiaux delivered a two run single. The Crimson went on to win the game, 7-3, securing a tie for first place in the EIBL...
Whatever the cause of Garner Ted's disappearance, his father smilingly insisted last week that the errant lad was in Colorado, making the best of his exile. If so, he was not at a favorite retreat on a former sheep ranch near Oak Creek. When Correspondent Burton trekked out to the ranch, she found it deserted, with its electric meter padlocked. It had not been used all winter...