Tex Rickard,Si scrambler of syn-, tax and master, of the misplaced pause, has just survived ^another microphone crisis in Ebbets Field.. Not Ihng ago a formidable phalanx of grammarians and teach? ers* advanced on Mr. Rickards, the only.announcer in the business vvho drives a 1956 Cadillac, wears a tbree-carat diamond ring,and who has sufficient moola to compete again this year in the exclusiveand expensive U. S. Atlantic Tuna Tournament. ::“We want to purify your speech,* the learned gentlemen announced. “You speak to thousands every day, and at the drop of just one malaprop by you, an a.tomic fallout of scrambled syllables ■spreads through all of Brooklyn. Now,for instance, tonight when you said ”. “My - people unastan* what I say/’ protested Rickards, who was christened “Tex by none other than Uncle Wilbert Robinson himself. “About grammar,- I know -nothin! 1 had to leave school in the eight grade.' “Have-you heard Mr. Sheppard, the announcer. at. the Yankee Stadium? one big-brain persisted. “Mr. Sheppard is a : Dale ’ Carnegie man. Wonderful, pear-shaped tones, impeccable pronunciation. He cloaks every announcement.. with class and' dignity. Now if you would listen to him—- ' “That's the American League, Rickards cut In. “I wooden go there!”• • a • i