Though it conceivably could—and does—annoy the Phillies' other announcers, their perfectionist colleague Richie Ashburn just can't keep quiet when someone muffs a high pop fact. If a colleague happens to say that some player hit a ball real well, converted center fielder and two-time batting champion Ashburn, who knows something about hits, is very apt to comment that the hitter really didn't get good wood on it. Recently the Phils played an extra-inning, four-hour game with the Cardinals. The play-by-play man remarked that both teams were running short of manpower, setting up the following dialogue. Play-by-play man: "But the Cardinals still have Ed Spiezio on the bench, and he's been a real hot hitter this spring." Ashburn, from off camera: "If Spiezio is going to hit, he'd better have a long bat. The Cardinals sent him to Jacksonville eight days ago."

After a long stalk of his quarry, James Bond killed quickly, silently and painlessly. Then, in a variation of technique not yet screened in any neighborhood theater, Bond skinned his victim and sent him back to headquarters to be stuffed. "One hundred years from now this may be the last known specimen of the Eskimo curlew," crowed Bond, curator of birds at the Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia. He hadn't been so excited since Author Ian Fleming borrowed the name of Author James Bond (Birds of the West Indies) to christen Secret Agent 007.

French Actress Capucine (below), no threat at Le Mans, was nevertheless practicing hard for her go-kart racing scene in the forthcoming film What's New, Pussycat?, putt-putting along the French countryside in one of the contraptions.

Green Bay Packer Guard Jerry Kramer, who missed most of last season because of mysterious abdominal pains, now knows why. He has just had one two-inch and two four-inch splinters removed by surgery, souvenirs of an attempt to red-dog a calf 11½ years ago. As a 17-year-old, Jerry was chasing the animal around his family's ranch at Sand Point, Idaho, when the calf jumped on a board. The board splintered and lodged a substantial portion of itself in the youthful cattle-harasser's body. Surgery at the time was supposed to have removed all the splinters. Kramer now has three new toothpicks to prove it didn't.

Artist Rosalyn Drexler, whose first novel—the narcissistic, hotly debated I Am the Beautiful Stranger—has created quite a splatter on the literary scene, attended a cocktail party celebrating the book's publication. Between drinks and hors d'oeuvres, the author spoke of her kaleidoscopic life—painter, sculptress, lady wrestler, playwright, mother of two children and gym-class truant. She was expelled, Rosalyn remembered, from Manhattan's High School of Music and Art because she had cut too many gym classes. She then joined a troupe of women wrestlers on a southern swing and grappled across Dixie under the nom de guerre of Rosa Carlo, The Mexican Spitfire. Her novel is not about lady wrestlers, but the "beautiful stranger" does happen to be a girl who was expelled from Music and Art high school for skipping gym classes.

When, at the age of 62, still with 20-20 vision in both eyes, Baron George Benn Wrangell hung up his eye patch three years ago, his employers had to find a new Hathaway shirt man. At last they have. Sailing back from somewhere in the Caribbean—the Bahamas, C. F. Hathaway Company thinks—is Wrangell's successor, one Colin Leslie Fox. Hathaway, after a long search for a man with "that masculine quality we were looking for," believes Fox has proper credentials. He is a former London bookie, fight promoter, boxer, race-car driver and solo transatlantic sailor.

Many a late-starting hitter, suffering through his annual spring slump, is driven to dark moods and sulking, to neglecting his dinner and being mean to his wife. But Philadelphia Outfielder Johnny Callison, a member of the breed, has learned to live with the problem. His antidote: children's coloring books. "Two years ago I was hitting .220 in May," said Callison, perhaps reminded of that dismal occurrence by his 1965 early-May average of .185. "It was driving me crazy. I knew I had to do something to keep my mind off it, so I started doodling in the kids' coloring books. Then I went out and bought some art books and pretty soon I was doing all right with those number paintings. You know: 'Color 1 red, 2 blue, and 3 green.' The only trouble is that the 1 2 3 keeps reminding me of my batting average."

The graduating class of the California Podiatry College included one newly minted podiatrist, George Rhoden, who made news with his feet in 1952 by setting an Olympic 400-meter record of 45.9 seconds.

The first thoroughbred Kentucky bullfrog ever entered in the annual Calaveras County Jumping Frog Jubilee was put through his paces on the Capitol steps by his handlers. Senators George Murphy of California and Thruston Morton of Kentucky (below) pronounced themselves satisfied with their entry's workout and predicted success at Angels Camp, Calif., May 23, on the 100th anniversary of Mark Twain's tale. Murphy, detecting a resemblance to Minority Leader Everett Dirksen, has dubbed his Republican frog Kentucky Ev.