(9 of 9)
Rod Who? If he keeps up his current pace, plenty of teams will surely come bidding for Carew; his assault on the .400 mark is bringing him, at last, the attention he deserves. The family telephone number—unlisted to begin with—must be changed once a month. A persistent local reporter, not believing that Carew was away from his home, camped out on the doorstep until Marilynn called the police to drive him off. An ovation from home-town fans greets Carew's every trip to the plate. Photographers and reporters dog him at home and on the road. Still, he answers each letter personally, poses with young admirers and puts no secretary between himself and an increasingly demanding press and public. The wry sense of humor that carried him through the days of Rod Who? is serving him in good stead as the summer wears on and people on the street begin to recognize him —sort of. On a road trip to Chicago, a man mistook him for the former Bears halfback: "You're Gale Sayers, aren't you?" Came the response: "No, I'm Rod Carew. How could you make that mistake?" An embarrassed pause. Carew laughed: "I'm much better looking than Gale Sayers." "Oh!"
Oh to be Rod Carew in this fine summer. To be a hitter so confident that you turn down offers from teammates and coaches to steal signs and telegraph you the next pitch. "It doesn't matter what the pitch is—I'll get my cut at it." To know that if you do hit .400, the season of '77 will be remembered as the one that belonged to Rod Carew. And to know that, .400 season or not, your place in the history of your sport is already secure. "He doesn't have to prove anything," says Manager Mauch. "All he has to do is retire and wait for the Hall of Fame to call." Consider that.
* Computed by dividing the total number of bases accrued through hits by the number of times at bat.