Word: helmeted
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When he walks to the plate like an outsize Little Leaguer, batting helmet resting loosely on his ears, hardly anyone in Boston cheers, or even boos. When he stands in to bat lefthanded, only the shortstop bothers to play him deep. The front office talks blandly of trading him, fans pass him blankly on the street, his manager bats him seventh and remarks flatly, "You never really know he's around." At 34, the Red Sox' James Edward ("Pete") Runnells is one of the most inconspicuous players in baseball. He is also the best hitter in the American...
Frontier Foothold. It was no ordinary Indian pueblo. Out of the dirt came objects that had been used by 16th century Spaniards: bits of chain mail, parts of a helmet, an iron cannon ball, a carved piece of bone, a bronze candlestick base and the cover of a copper vessel probably used in celebrating Mass. Further digging exposed the plan of the old plaza, including the tracks of two dogs that had run across it once, at a time when rain turned the soil...
...helicopter, the Viet Cong private travels up to 40 miles a day through jungle on rubber-soled canvas shoes. His uniform is the same black calico shirt and trousers worn by all Vietnamese peasants; on his long, stringy hair he wears either a floppy jungle cap or a pith helmet covered with netting into which he thrusts camouflage appropriate to the terrain through which he is moving. His full field pack contains only a waterproof nylon sheet, a mosquito net, a hammock and some rope...
...Anne, 11, trying a bit too hard to please the judge, Queen Elizabeth, lost out on the prizes by faulting four times-once for riding so high in her stirrups on a hurdle that she came close to a spill. At Windsor, Prince Charles, 13, nearly went jodhpurs-over-helmet when he ventured a tricky cross-shot under his pony's head during a polo lesson. It was left to hard-riding Prince Philip to preserve the family's honor. He knocked in two goals one day, four the next as his Foot Guards polo team galloped...
...warmed the crowd of 72,000. Settling into the cockpit of his low-slung, pale green Lotus, Moss joshed Rival Graham Hill, who was piloting a faster BRM: "Don't try too hard, Graham, or you'll blow it up." He screwed in his earplugs, snapped his helmet strap and adjusted his goggles. "Hey," he yelled to Mechanic Tony Robinson. "Where's my chewing gum?" Robinson handed him a stick. Moss waved. "Here goes," he said. Then, exhaust crackling fiercely, he roared off to the starting line...