There's this foul situation in Baltimore. To considerable publicity and fanfare, the Orioles this season installed two attractive girls—Ginger Redding and Sue Spence—to retrieve the foul balls that end up around the borders of the playing field during a game. In all the cheering for this coup, no one thought to ask what happened to the former foul fetchers. So Paul Evans and Gary Eisenberg, who were demoted to the ground crew, have spoken up on their own. What burns them most is that the girls are paid $2 more ($7 vs. $5) than they are, but they call a couple of other strikes, too. "The girls are there strictly for show, with those halter tops," Eisenberg says. "They catch about 10% of the balls. We used to catch about 70%. The girls arrive half an hour before the game. We arrive three hours ahead. In the ninth inning we're told to relieve the girls so they can get out before the crowd. And the fans give us dirty looks when we do." Oriole groundkeeper Pat Santarone is an unimpressed boss. "If those boys can dress up and look as good as the girls, I'll pay them $7," he says.
Dr. Ted Fox, the Chicago Bears' team physician, usually works on people like Dick Butkus. But there is little resemblance between Butkus and a recent patient of Fox's, Actress Carol Channing—except, perhaps, that Miss Charming incurred her broken wrist by getting involved in a fistfight. Appearing in the musical Lorelei, she tripped during a fight scene and fractured the wrist while falling down. There was some talk of advertising Lorelei thusly: "See Carol Channing with an all-new cast." Plastered.
How did Baltimore Colt lineman Elmer Collett spend the off-season? "Gold mining in California," Collett says. "Once I got $50 worth in four days." But it wasn't a money-making proposition, mostly because Collett and a friend did their placer mining near a prison camp—from which two convicts escaped. "We woke up one morning staring at a couple of .22s," Collett recalls. "They stole our truck, all our gold, $3,000 worth of equipment and two antique rifles. Then they drank all our beer. That made us really mad."
When 11-year-old Jack Nicklaus II arrived at the Scioto Country Club, where his famous father was introduced to the game of golf, he walked into a real struggle—with the course, with his competition and with the rule book. Jack the elder used to dominate the younger division of the junior match-play championship at Scioto, and young Jackie reached the finals of the same event this year before losing in two extra holes. But he had a hard—and instructive—time getting past the first round. On the 14th hole his opponent, Greg Veit, couldn't find his tee shot and went back to the tee to hit another ball. Jack II, meanwhile, impatiently took a couple of practice putts on the green. Quite properly, Veit claimed the hole. That gave him a one-up margin, which he retained to the 18th green. Needing a 12-foot putt for victory, young Veit couldn't stand it. He turned to his father and said, "I don't want to win by calling a hole." He picked up his ball, conceded the 18th and went into a playoff—which was won by Jackie.
All right then, who is that odd character in the bright red shorts operating a strange-looking device on the Cleveland Stadium outfield grass? Why that's Paul Lindblad, the Oakland Athletics' relief pitcher. The device is a metal detector. Lindblad collects coins—not rare pine tree shillings, but the ordinary devalued kind. He takes his metal detector with him on trips and gives every park he visits a housecleaning, picking up change that has remained after the crowds.
Kathy Kusner, the only female member of the U.S. Olympic equestrian team, has become this country's only female Learjet-rated pilot. Miss Kusner joined the jet set after meeting Bruce Sundlun, president of EJA, a charter jet service, and an avid jumping fan. Already equipped with a commercial pilot's license and a glider rating, Kathy mentioned that it might be fun to get a jet rating, and Sundlun put her through his training program. After 40 hours of ground school, 14 hours of flying and some additional time in a flight simulator, Kathy was set to jet.
British runner David Bedford, meanwhile, spread out his widest smile as he piloted a victory spin the day after clipping a remarkable 7.4 seconds off the world record for the 10,000 meters at London's Crystal Palace. Bedford had previously kept his reputation for flightiness intact by running back and forth in front of the press box after his record effort and treating the journalists to a derisive gesture with one hand while blowing kisses to the crowd with the other.