An Off-Season Of Tennis Put Brady Anderson On Track For A Return To Baseball Form

Brady Anderson is a study in contrast, from the varied company he keeps to the furnishings in his home. One of baseball's most serious players, Anderson is a stickler about his equipment. But his game glove is autographed by rapper Snoop Doggy Dog.

“He came up to me at the MTV Rock 'n Jock game,” explains Anderson. “I was pretty flattered that Snoop Dog knew who I was. I didn't know he had a lot of spare time to know who the Orioles' center fielder was. It's one of the few autographs I've ever asked for.”

Most of Anderson's waking hours are consumed by baseball, but gazing around his recently redecorated Inner Harbor condominium, one would be hard-pressed to know that he was a major league baseball player. The only concession to sports amid the widescreen television and globe and books on Venice is a $5,000 tennis racket stringing machine, a by product of his relationship with South African professional tennis player Amanda Coetzer.

“Stringing is life or death to a player,” Anderson explains of his new-found hobby. “Amanda's used to having the best stringers in the world. There are certain tournaments where the stringers aren't consistent. I am learning so I'll be able to help her. Her coach thought it was insane, but now he kind of likes it.”

In an off-season of tournament hopping that took him to England, Germany, Switzerland, South Africa, Japan and Australia, Coetzer's coach, Nigel Sears, had plenty of opportunity to warm to Anderson.

“Good coach, good guy,” says Anderson between bites of pancakes smothered in yogurt. “He's hilarious. He's got that British “Four-Weddings-And-A-Funeral” humor.

“My goal in the offseason was to become a decent hitting partner. When we started this offseason I was not even close. I ended up watching a lot of practices. By Japan, in the end of January, Nigel actually ordered me to warm her up before she played Monica Seles.” For the first time, Coetzer beat Seles.

Following the most disappointing season of his career, Anderson was told by Oriole officials to test his injured patella tendon in the first few weeks of the offseason. If the knee did not hold up, the club wanted him to have invasive surgery. Describing himself as “a little bit afraid they would have to slice my patella in half and open it up,” Anderson took to the court.

“Moving my knee eccentrically was what was bothering me and in tennis you have to do that all that time. Playing on a hard court beats you up.”

Despite the round-the-world travel, Anderson was able to maintain his normal off-season workouts and, in some cases, added to his routine.

“Amanda trains hard,” he says, “so I was training all the time. She can run with me at the track. It's not like we have to have separate workouts. She's one of the most phenomenal athletes I've been around. Pound for pound, she's a little freaky.”

On one occasion, Sears asked Anderson to take Coetzer on a half-hour run following a workout.

“After 20 minutes,” he says, “I was dying. I looked at her and knew I was in trouble. The 30-minute runs are for her. I don't need 'em. I just need to be able to make it out to center. ”

Bolstered by the tennis regimen, Anderson arrived for spring training in top shape. He decided to focus on playing as many innings as possible, even at the expense of the weight and track training that are staples of his preseason program.

“I played a lot in the spring,” he says. “That was my goal--to play as much as I could and get my swing down.”

Unlike the previous two years when he was hampered by assorted broken bones, Anderson has been injury-free through the first half of '99. He has an on-base percentage well over .400 and ranks among the league leaders in walks. He says he could receive more free passes if he were more selective on 3-2 counts and didn't foul off so many pitches in that situation. That could be a contributing factor to the perception, even among teammates, that he is a free swinger.

Says Anderson: “Scott Erickson came up to me and said, 'How can you be one of the league leaders in walks?' I said 'I always walk a lot.' He said, 'You swing at every pitch!'”

Pointing out that he will swing at four first pitches on some nights, Anderson breaks down his ability to draw walks.

“The ultimate hitter would hit every pitch in his zone and take every ball,” he says before pausing to watch a British standup comedian on television. “If you get every pitch in your zone, you'll never get a walk.

“The only way to get on base and draw walks is by putting some fear in the pitcher and being able to drive the ball. That's why very few leadoff hitters are going to draw a huge amount of walks. You can't just get up there and take pitches and get a walk. That's not how it happens. You have to be aggressive; you have to make the pitcher think that you'll swing at the first pitch and drive the first pitch he throws.”

Despite “quietly having a really good season,” Anderson was involved in a controversial incident. Asked to bunt by manager Ray Miller on three pitches with runners on first and second and no outs, Anderson struck out.

“It was a situation where I was swinging the bat really well and it was against a sidearm lefty,” he recalls. “Sidearmers are really hard for lefties and righties to bunt.” “I was furious,” he says. “Striking out on a bunt is a joke. Terrible. I always want control of my own at-bats. I know there are certain situations that dictate a bunt. I know what those situations are. I go by how I'm feeling at the plate. I just want to be in control of my own at-bats at all times. I wasn't in control of that one and I didn't like it.

“I did my best to get all three of them down. It did not change the way I approached my bunt. Whether you agree with the decision or not, it doesn't go on Ray's record that I struck out. I don't want to strikeout. I want to get the bunt down, walk off the field and shake hands.”

While Anderson may have silently steamed on the bench, he recalls his lack of composure in the minor leagues.

“I couldn't control my temper in the minors like I can now,” he says, the familiar look of an impending punch line coming over his face. “In the long run--for a prolonged baseball career and to attract women--poise and equanimity are much more appealing.”

Equanimity--an evenness of mind under stress. Perhaps the ideal trait for a intense session of restringing your girlfriend's rackets. That was Anderson's plan for a rare Sunday evening of free time. As the clubhouse buzzed with plans of golf and family outings and talk of the Bay Cafe's “Jamaican Me Crazy” party, the team's center fielder had his own idea of a good time planned. He had summoned a professional racket stringer from New York to tutor him.

As he left the lockerroom for his lesson, he was introduced to a Baltimore City policeman who had named his new baby “Brady Anderson.”

Walking up the ramp to his car, Anderson says, “I had a pretty unique name until I hit 50 home runs.”