Brady Hits 'em In Bunches

"Some of them you remember better than others. Like my third, I remember everything about that one. Bottom of the ninth. Tie game. My bat felt light. Line drive, over the scoreboard. Game over."

A season begins. Next to a player's name there are nothing but zeros. No at bats. No runs batted in, no runs scored. No hits, no stolen bases. No home runs. Somewhere in a black day-by-day planner that Brady Anderson carries with him is a sheet of paper with a bunch of numbers, Anderson's goals for the season. Anderson loves numbers; numbers swim in his head nearly all the time. But there is one category for which the Baltimore Orioles' center-fielder and leadoff hitter will make no recorded commitment: home runs.

Last year Anderson did something rash in the Department of Long Balls, something historic. He walloped 50 home runs, only 19 of which came in his cozy home office, Camden Yards. Along the way he became the first player to lead off four consecutive games with a dinger. For the season he began 12 games with home runs, which is also a record. Two aspects of his outburst are particularly odd. First, Anderson is no kid; he turned 33 on Jan. 18. And he's no Ruth, either (although they were both born in Maryland). Before last year the most homers Anderson had hit in a season was 21, in 1992. Now his name is on a list suitable for framing.

LEFTHANDED HITTERS WITH 50 OR
MORE HOMERS IN A SEASON:
Roger Maris (once)
Babe Ruth (four times)
Johnny Mize (once)
Brady Anderson (once)

For most categories Anderson has no trouble writing down goals. He would like to score at least 100 runs this season. (Last year he scored 117.) He would like to commit no errors. (Last year he had three.) He would like to steal at least 40 bases. (Last year he stole 21; in 1992 he swiped 53.) He has written goals for batting average, RBIs and total hits. But home runs are where Anderson draws the line. He won't dare write down a goal, let alone discuss it. He is not a superstitious man, but he knows that in baseball, as in life, there are penalties for being too audacious.

"Number 7 was interesting. My third leadoff homer in three games. I had used the same bat for the first two homers. I had planned to keep using that bat until I broke it. But while I was on deck, I put it back, took out another bat. You want to know that it's you and not the bat."

Anderson doesn't look like the leadoff hitter from central casting. At 6'1" and 190 pounds, he has the build of a light heavyweight boxer, with a narrow waist, broad shoulders, thick neck and thighs. (A few years ago, he sparred with 1972 bronze medalist boxer Jesse Valdez. Anderson, a human perpetual-motion machine, has also raced against world-class sprinter Marty Krulee, played tennis against Monica Seles, lifted tons of steel, run mountains, in-line skated and water-skied.) His upper arms are immense, with veins that look like swollen rivers running across them in every direction. He doesn't have that hunched over stance, that tiny strike zone, that scrappy, sacrificial lamb, sacrifice-bunt-lead-off-guy look. He looks like a three hitter, a cleanup hitter, a five hitter.

Then there are his numbers. For a lead-off batter Anderson strikes out fairly often, 106 times last year and an average of 73.2 per season over his nine-year major league career. He has slumps more often than the perfect leadoff hitter would. His 21 stolen bases last year were certainly respectable but not spectacular; same goes for his 76 walks. But he has some other things going for him, like a .396 on-base percentage, which was fourth best in the majors among leadoff hitters last season, and a .637 slugging percentage.

"The thing you have to remember about Brady is that he likes being a leadoff man," says his manager, Davey Johnson. "He revels in the fact that he can get us on the board real quick. There's no rule that says your leadoff hitter can't have power." The Orioles are built for power. After Anderson, Johnson expects the next four men on his every-day lineup to be Roberto Alomar, Rafael Palmeiro, Eric Davis and Cal Ripken.

"Number 8 was a good one. My fourth lead-off homer in four games. Against Texas. Darren Oliver has me in the hole, two-strike count. I hang in there, foul off a bunch of pitches. Work the count to full. Then I hit it out. A good at bat."