What Is the Winning Age in Sport?

Between Youngster and Veteran, Twenty-six Has Proved to Be the Age of Supreme Athletic Efficiency

GRANTLAND RICE

THE most sensational sporting events, of late, seem to be divided into two broad divisions. First, the remarkable achievements of such brilliant youngsters as Bobby Jones and Vincent Richards, and, second, the sensational victories of such elastic veterans as Zbyscko, Babe Adams, John Ball and Mike Gibbons.

As a rule in every gripping "human interest" story, it is either the untutored kid, or the veteran with a vital spark, who gathers in the newspaper headlines.

But, when you look over the complete records and dig deep enough down into sporting statistics, you suddenly discover that, in spite of all the kids and the veterans, the winning age in sport does not belong to the beardless youth or the gray-haired knight who comes back for one gallant sortie.

It is true enough that Jones, Richards, Travers and others have shown amazing sporting proficiency at tender ages. It is also true enough that Bob Fitzsimmons, Hans Wagner, Pop Anson and others have proved that, beyond forty, men can still rise and stir up dust along the highway of fame.

The Case of Cobb

WHAT, then, is the most efficient' age in sport?

Well, to begin with, there is the case of Ty Cobb, the Detroit star. At twenty-two Cobb was leading the league. Cobb at thirty-five was still hammering loudly at the portals of base-hit fame. But, in the year 1911, when he was twenty-six years old, he batted .420 and broke all existing records for runs scored and base-hits made for any year in the annals of baseball.

It was at the age of twenty-six that the astounding Georgian reached his greatest height and came to the full crest of his powers. It was only then that he had come to the point where he could boast of all the attributes of youth, suppleness, speed and agility—coupled with the experience and judgment that had come from trying and repeated tests.

Youth has in its kit such aids to victory as speed, dash, elasticity and stamina. Age banks mainly upon experience, judgment, control, knowledge, and a character not likely to break under fire. But, at twenty-six, an athlete possesses all of these ingredients of success. He still has youth to offer, and he has gained judgment and control, under the most damaging fire. It was exactly at twenty-six, then, that Cobb was ready for the great test and it was at twenty-six that he caused two world records to fall.

If you will look back a little you will also find that Christy Mathewson was at his best about the same age. Matty had his finest year in 1905, when he was almost unbeatable throughout the season and then set up an unbeaten record by shutting out the Athletics in three world series games. And, in 1905, Matty was coming into his twenty-sixth year.

And then there is the case of Babe Ruth, a prodigious youngster while he was hovering about twenty-one, but far below the fame that came to him at twenty-six when he set a home run record that left old-timers dizzy. Ruth was a great ball player as a kid. He may be a great ball player five years from now. But he will never be greater than he was during the past season unless he is more of a marvel than we think he is.

When Chick Evans was sixteen years old he had all the style and dash to his game that any champion could expect to have. When he was still a kid, he came to the semifinal round in his first amateur championship. Great things were predicted for him in the way of a triumphant march to the top. But Evans could never quite make the grade. He had everything that youth had to offer, but he lacked the needed amount of experience.

Year after year slipped by until many began to think that the Western star would never break through. And then, in 1916, when he was knocking at the door of his twenty-sixth year, he found himself in possession of the needed treasures from both ends of Time's magical treasure chest. It was then that he won both the Open and the Amateur titles, a feat never before or since accomplish^ in the history of American golf. This was his greatest year. He not only beat all the star professionals at medal play, but followed this up by topping the amateurs at match play for a triumph that led to a brace of sceptres and a double crown. Evans at twenty-six had all the dash and confidence of youth, mixed with the skill and experience of the older man. He had finally married decision to skill, and the result was an irresistible combination.

It might be argued that Walter J. Travis did not reach his top form until forty, but it must be remembered that Travis was a rare exception in that he never started golf until he was thirty-five. But John Ball, the greatest veteran in the game to-day, won both the Open and Amateur championships of Great Britain at the age of twenty-six.

Youth and Age

YOUTH is inclined to be excitable, nervous and high strung. It is likely to break under a heavy strain.

Age, and by age we mean anything beyond thirty-five or forty, has the judgment—the mental side of any game—under good control, but is inclined to tire more rapidly, to lack the physical requirements needed in order to gain the snow-capped peaks. John Ball was playing great golf, for four rounds, in the recertt British amateur championship at Hoylake, but he was a weary old man by the fifth. Sandy Herd was tied for the lead after three rounds at St. Andrew's in the British Open, but at fifty-two he faltered in the last stretch, lacking the winning touch that youth only could give him,—but with youth twenty years away.

Vincent Richards has been a tennis prodigy for several years and he isn't yet twenty. But at twenty Bill Tilden was almost unknown. It was not until Tilden reached the winning age of twenty-six last summer, that he stalked forth and broke all records by winning both the British and the American titles, and then contributing his full share to our Davis Cup triumphs. Tilden needed every ounce of skill and stamina one could find to go, unbeaten, through a year's campaign of such strain and magnitude.

He had all the speed and power he needed at twenty. He had a great variety of strokes. But it was not until last year that he was able to command judgment, reserve, patience and generalship. It was not until then that he was able to keep his high-strung nerves under complete control. In 1918 Tilden had one of his most remarkable years. He won every set and every match of every important tournament until he came to the final match with Lindley Murray—when the title was at stake—and then he lost. In 1919 Tilden again went to the final round, where he was stopped by Johnston. But by 1920, at the winning age, he was last geared up to the supreme test.

Dempsey's Crest

WHEN Jack Dempsey was twenty-two, he was on the verge of greatness. He was then big, strong, fast and coming in to a surprising amount of skill. When he fought Jess Willard and won the championship he was just twenty-four. In the Willard battle, Dempsey was certainly reaching the crest of his greatness. His speed and power were remarkable. His slugging force was crushing. But, after the first round, during which he knocked Willard down seven times, there were one or two plans, in the way of judgment and making battle, that he would have changed with a little more experience.

But, when a few months ago, Dempsey met Carpentier at Jersey City, before 90,000 people, he was, in truth, the finished product, the finest fighting machine the ring had ever known.

Jim Jeffries had greater strength and weight than Dempsey. Jim Corbett was a trifle faster. Jack Johnson had surer defensive skill. But when one considers a combination of all the qualities that go into fighting greatness—speed, skill, strength, power, crushing force, aggressiveness and the ability to absorb punishment as open buds absorb the dew, Dempsey stood in the ring at Jersey City, last July, as king of them all.

And when Dempsey defeated Carpentier he was exactly twenty-six. He had just come to the age where Cobb, Evans, Mathewson, Tilden and Ruth were at their most effective periods.

Here he had all the speed and stamina of his earlier days—plus the coolness, craft, judgment and experience of the older man who had been often over the route before.

This theory that twenty-six is the winning age would undoubtedly also apply to football if the average collegian did not persist in graduating at twenty-two or three. Very few men linger in college under restful campus trees until they are twenty-six, unless they are taking post-graduate courses which do not include football.

But a few have stayed on, as if to prove our theory. One was Jim Thorpe, the noted Indian who, in his Carlisle days, reached the pinnacle of football greatness, and was probably the most brilliant all-around performer the game has ever known. Thorpe was a star in his younger years, but, at the finish of his career with Carlisle, when he was about to enter his twenty-sixth year, he shone with the brightest light of his stardom. He had not only retained all of his speed, skill and stamina, but had also acquired the inestimable advantages of experience. This long experience had qualified Thorpe as a record line breaker, end runner, punter, drop kicker, place kicker, forward passer, receiver of passes and as one of the greatest defensive backs in football history. He had natural ability to start with, but he needed, in order to perfect his game, more time than the average collegian is ever permitted to spend, in order to reach the highest peaks of football efficiency.

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The same story was true of "Germany" Schulz, Michigan's famous center, who, according to Yost, was only a fair football player at twenty, but was rated as the greatest center in gridiron history at twenty-five. By that time added experience and added skill had come to the aid of his indomitable youth. Jim Hogan and Elmer Oliphant were additional proofs that time and experience are vital factors in developing football greatness and that a man at twenty-five or six will be a greater football player than a man at twenty or twenty-one.

The list of those who reached their greatest years around the age of twentysix, or between twenty-five and twentyseven, is remarkable. It doesn't mean that one might not be a champion at twenty-one or at forty. For there have been champions who were younger than twenty-one, and champions who were older than forty. Youth may have such an abundance of speed and skill that judgment and experience are not needed. Or, youth may have come upon judgment and experience very early, as Willie Hoppe did or as Vincent Richards and Bobbie Jones are doing to-day.

It is also possible that a man may be well beyond forty, as Zbyszko is, and still have, in addition to judgment, craft and experience, unusual power, speed and stamina—all the physical qualities that any youngster might possess.

Or, it is possible that, at forty, one can have such unusual skill, coolness and control of the nervous and muscular system that speed and agility are not needed. The major leagues are full of crafty old veterans in the box who without enough speed to break the cuticle of a custard pie, can still baffle most of the finest batsmen.

Again, in golf, there are such rare exceptions as Travis and Ball who, in the late forties, were still marvels. But when Vardon was fifty-one, with all his skill and cunning intact, he felt urgent need—a need that was never realized— for the stamina of his younger days. He was leading the big field at Inverness in the American Open with only six holes left to g6, when a heavy wind began to beat upon him. It was then that an increasing weariness broke up the rhythm of his swing.

We have offered here only a few of .the statistics that might be used to show that, on a general average, an athlete comes upon his greatest effectiveness between the ages of twenty-five and twenty-seven. For it is at precisely this age that the indispensable qualities in a sportsman's kit-bag—speed, power, stamina, experience, judgment, and craft, —seem to join forces with unbeatable effect.