4 Dulaney teens use Opening Day to ogle Anderson


April 06, 1993|By DAN RODRICKS

Pieces of column too short to use:

Reflections on Opening Day . . . I know I said I wouldn't bring it up again, and a couple of readers have pledged to write nasty letters to the publisher if I do. But I'll break my promise and chance the consequences:

Oriole Park still needs an organist!


No. 9 on the field, No. 1 in their hearts . . . Do you think it's the hip sideburns? Is it his physique? Is it somethin' in the way he moves?

You won't know until you've sat and listened to the comments of teen-age girls in the left field seats, high above Brady Anderson.

For Opening Day at Oriole Park, a foursome of Dulaney High students played a little hooky and gathered in the upper reserves, cheering for their Brady Mahn, ogling his every twitch.

The commentary was so terribly sexist that the manners my mother taught me preclude me from quoting the girls. Suffice it to say, Brady is hot. And Jose Canseco, right field hunk of the Texas Rangers, is a hot dog.

Slightly older women -- that is, women 30 or older -- voted Harold Baines the sexiest man on the 1993 Orioles, with Luis Mercedes runner-up.


Would you prefer Al Sharpton? . . . To all of those people who have been knocking Jesse Jackson's complaint with Major League baseball, especially those who think it's the right message but the wrong messenger, I ask:

"If not Jackson, then who?"


Big Brother does Baltimore . . . There's nothing quite so disarming as when you watch Secret Service agents at the ballpark through your binoculars and they watch back.


The vet meets the veg . . . Kim Hammond, the well-known Baltimore-based veterinarian, was in Washington the other day and, as he walked down the street, he noticed a man who appeared to be one of the District's homeless.

Hammond was carrying half a corned beef sandwich in a paper sack.

"What is it?" the street man asked when Hammond offered the food.

"It's a corned beef sandwich, maybe you'd . . ."

"What're you kidding?" the man answered. "I'm a vegetarian."


Caption contest . . . A few weeks ago, Gov. William Donald Schaefer displayed a Cobray M-11/9 semiautomatic pistol at an Annapolis news conference.

A photograph of the governor wielding this weapon, holding it near the very tip of his nose, appeared on the front page of The Sun and prompted at least one caption-writing contest around town. Here are some entries, appearing under the fabled photo:

"I've got carloads of these things, and can beat any price."

"Yes, I may be wacky, but my nasal passages are clear."

"Now, let me say this again. Crooks are using automatic weapons as false noses and that makes it very difficult, very difficult, for police to spot these weapons . . ."

When he was mayor, Schaefer used to wear picturesque costumes to promote various causes and events. (He dressed up like a terrapin once to promote a University of Maryland football game at Memorial Stadium.)

Sporting the Cobray in such an odd manner didn't serve Schaefer's cause. In fact, it was an example of how a problem deserving sober and reasoned debate -- and needing the new laws the governor advocated -- could be undercut by antics, however unintended.

Still, Schaefer deserves credit for the number of times he's taken on the National Rifle Association during his tenure.

Maybe one day we'll see an assault weapon ban like the one enacted in New Jersey.


Overheard downtown . . . A bag lady (or bag man, hard to say which) shouting playfully at a lunchtime crowd last Friday, corner of Baltimore and Light streets:

"The Bank of Baltimore been in business 175 years! Don't ya think 100 woulda been enough! Gettin' a little greedy, don't ya think?"


Quip of the month . . . Regarding recent earthquakes, a pal named Joey says: "Columbia is James Rouse's fault."

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