Scorecard

Unfortunately, there have been no replies, and according to Director of Public Relations Sandy Knapp, there are not likely to be. "We're practically in the basement of this building," says Knapp, of Market Square Center in downtown Indianapolis. "The only way a millionaire would come down here would be if he were desperate for a men's room."

NO SOFT TOUCH

Don Kessinger, second baseman with the St. Louis Cardinals, was walking to Busch Stadium one afternoon last week when an elderly and somewhat unkempt man approached and began staring at him. Kessinger, figuring he was being mistaken for Jim Nabors, which sometimes happens, merely smiled, nodded and kept walking. He tried to, anyway.

"He ran around in front of me and stuck his feet right on mine," Kessinger says. "I mean there was less than an inch between our noses." Again Kessinger smiled and kept moving, and again the old man ran in front of him and stuck his face directly into Kessinger's. "I finally said, 'Man, what are you doing?' And that's when it happened."

What happened was that the old man doubled up his right fist and threw a roundhouse punch that caught Kessinger flush on the jaw. More shocked than hurt, Kessinger grabbed his assailant by the shoulder. "What in the world do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

The old man peered at him again, began apologizing and backed away. "I'm sorry," he said. "I thought you were someone else. Please forgive me."

"Hold on," said Kessinger, gripping him securely. "Now why would you want to act that way toward anybody?"

"The other fellow robbed me," the old man said glumly. "Took me for all I had. Left me a broken man. I'm awfully sorry. I thought you were him."

Holding the man with one hand, Kessinger reached into his pocket with the other, drew out two dollars and some change and handed the money to him. "Here," he said. "If this is a panhandling approach, I'll give you credit for originality."

BAD NEWS IS GOOD