Where are the snows of yesteryear, and where, for that matter, are the wrestlers we used to know? Where the Haystack Calhouns, where the Bruno Sammartinos? Promoter Abe Ford's "Championship Wrestling" at the Boston Garden last Saturday night resembled nothing so much as afternoon ten at the Chilton Club. The wrestlers Ford produced were, for the most part, an unimpressive lot, and they emerged, as Pindar once remarked, "untouched with sweat on thighs or neck." (Pindar was a Greek handicapper.)

I have nothing against giving athletes shorter hours and higher pay, but wrestlers these days just don't seem to have any interest in the glory of the sport anymore. They're just not giving 100 per cent. They've forgotten Vince Lombardi's old adage: "Winners never quit, and quitters never win."

Take for instance the highlight of the evening's card, the steel cage match between Jimmy Valiant and Pedro Morales. Pedro is a good wrestler, and the fans love him. But Valiant let him walk away with the match. (In case there are some of you who aren't afficianados of the sport, a steel cage match consists of locking two wrestlers into a steel cage and awarding the bout to the one who gets out firs.) Pedro gave Valiant a good solid kick, and Valiant just lay there and let Pedro escape from the cage. He wasn't even knocked out.

Then, take the Texas Death Match. In a Texas Dath Match, there are no holds barred, no referee, and, in theory, the bout ends only when one wrestler is killed, or at least disabled. The Texas Death Match between Chief Jay Strongbow and Stan the Man Stasiak was called before there was even blood on the mat. But Chief Jay deserved to lose anyway, because he wasn't giving 100 per cent.

Another problem with today's wrestlers which showed up in the bouts last week was the creeping Namathism which has gotten into the sport. You never saw the old time wrestlers going around in sequinned lame jump suits and diamond studded lavender robes. Nowadays, however, wrestlers don't feel they've made it unitl they start dressing up like Liberace, or even Lawrence Welk. Take, for instance, the match between Beautiful Bobby and Fred Blassie. (And what is a wrestler doing with a name like Beautiful Bobby anyway?) The referee was blinded by the gitler of the rhinesiones. You couldn't tell whether you were watching a wrestling much or a display of Tiffany's new fall fashions.

This is not to imply that wrestling does not will have its attractions. The two tag team matches on the evening's program were well done. The crowd was disappointed when Mike Pappas and Rene Goulet (no kin to Robert) lost to Ivan and Igor. The presence of the evil manager. Nikita, on the side of Ivan and Igor did nothing to enhance their popularity. Nonetheless, Ivan and Igor in their bright red suits, did have some supporters. Said one man, who identified himself as an assistant professor of English and tutor in Lowell House: "I'm always happy when the crimson side wins."

In the other tag team match, Tarzan Tyler and Crazy Luke Graham faced Gorilla Monsoon and Victory Riverra. Victor's older brother. Mountain, was a fine wrestler in his day, and Victor has carried on the great tradition. Crazy Luke was tattled by the crowd's insistent chants of "Crazy Luke", but he managed to take the first fall, with a little help from his friend. This match was hard fouth, and it took 20 minutes for the first fall. The good guys triumphed in the end, and took the next two falls.

The openers on the card were nice, but nothing to write home about. It costs eight cents nowadays, and who wants to waste a good portrait of Ike anyway? Manuel Soto beat Karl Conrad, to no one's particular surprise, and Moose Malone, one of the all time heavies, lost one to the great Karl Gotsch. Karl was a heavy favorite, showing that the fans have forgotten their old animosity toward Germany.

What then, is the meaning of it all? And where, after all, are we going? If as William James has observed, sport is a metaphor for was, where does wrestling fit in to the cosmic schieme? It's hard to say. IT wrestlers aren't giving 100 per cent, then who is?

Calhouns and Cabots?

Abe Ford has arranged another card for the Garden, this one for the beginning of December. Bruno Sammartino will be there, and a few other of the oldtimers. But it will not be the same. Just the other day. I heard that Haystack Calhoun has moved into a townhouse on Beacon Hill, and is taking graduate courses in psychology. If Haystack is hobnobbing with the Cabots and Lowells these days, whom can your trust? And is it all worth-while?