THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Monday, July 3, 1995 TAG: 9507010029
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E3 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Column
SOURCE: Larry Maddry
LENGTH: Medium: 73 lines
I TRY TO be easy on young people because I made a lot of mistakes when I was growing up and since learned better.
But I was really upset last week after reading a piece in the teen section of The Daily Break in which local teenagers bad-mouthed Dennis Rodman of the San Antonio Spurs basketball team for being a poor role model.
Sez who?
In case you spent the last few years underwater with tropical fish - not a bad idea the way the world is going - Mr. Rodman is a liberally tatooed, richly talented, gold ring-in-the-belly button, rebounder for the Spurs who can be seen in pizza commercials.
No one can be a role model in the universal sense. Some are role models for taking care of others - Albert Schweitzer comes to mind.
There are also role models in sports. Michael Jordan - his Airness - is a role model for his hang time in delivering a slam dunk with a basketball.
And then there is Dennis Rodman, his Hairness, the motorcycle-driving, Madonna-dating, board-crashing San Antonio Spur.
Rodman, known affectionately to NBA players as ``The Worm,'' is certainly a role model for me.
And has been for a long time.
That's because he is obviously a person who takes great pride in his appearance.
My father spent a lot of time faulting my personal grooming when I was growing up.
``Take care of your hair and your feet,'' he said. ``And the rest will take care of itself.''
Rodman knows how to take care of both. (The moment he comes off the court, he sits in front of the bench and removes his shoes, wriggling his toes inside the white socks to air them out in a healthful manner that makes him a role model for the American Podiatry Association.)
But it is the changing of his hair color that shows his commitment not only to good grooming but the sport he represents.
Rodman has accomplished the impossible feat of leaving wordy sports announcers speechless at times. Merely by lacing up his over-sized sneakers and walking onto the court with the best that chemists from Clairol, Breck, Glidden and Benjamin Moore can formulate coating his coiffure.
``Bud, I'm going to need your help describing Rodman's hair color tonight. What do you call that? Is it red, or orange, or both?''
``Well, I asked him about it before the game, Al. He says it is Texas sunset orange with a hint of sienna. That's good enough for me. Why don't we just let it go at that?''
No matter what your color preference, Rodman's hair is like Norfolk's weather: No matter what it is now, if you wait a while, it will change.
I lean toward his Kool-Aid green hair myself. But ladies tend to admire his magnolia blossom white hair, which is spray-painted on the crown with a fire truck red male chromosome symbol.
True, Rodman has his faults. He is sometimes late for practice. He tends to be selective in his friendships: It is said that the only player on the Spurs he admires is Jack Haley, a gent given to wearing sunglasses at night and eating a half dozen hot dogs minutes before every game. And yes, it is true that Rodman recently confided to interviewer John Feinstein that his basketball fantasy is not to win three NBA championships but to run up and down the court in a game while stark naked.
But let us hear no more talk of Rodman as a poor role model. Who cannot admire Rodman as he appears in the pizza commercials. He refuses to eat the back crust of the pizza slice before eating the tip of the triangle because, in his words, ``it's weird.'' That makes the Worm a lone voice for correct table etiquette in the NBA . . . and certainly a role model for Miss Manners and those of us who admire dining decorum. by CNB