Anonymity Brings Forth a Picture-Perfect Existence

I have to be honest, the first thing I thought of when they removed my picture from the newspaper was that F.P. Santangelo or Dodger Boy had been hired by the Tribune Co. and now were calling the shots.

But I guess if that were true, I already would have a one-way ticket in hand and be well on my way to becoming the world’s second space tourist.

I LOOK IN the mirror every day, so I’ll be all right, but I worry now about somebody like Lara Flynn Boyle. I don’t want to say she has a crush on me, but I imagine the sports section never will be the same for her again.

She told me she has my column hanging on her wall, but you know how news print begins to fade over time and I was kind of hoping her friend, Salma Hayek, might drop by her dressing room one day and ask, “Who’s the dreamboat?”

Now how’s Salma going to figure that out with just my name across the top of the column? She may read it some day, and what’s to say she doesn’t come to the conclusion “T.J.” is a woman.

No one at the newspaper has offered a good reason why the mug shots have been dropped, but according to Porter, an e-mailer, “Removing your picture was a great move. It made it much easier to keep my breakfast down.”

During my long newspaper career, I remember my wife getting sick a lot during breakfast, but she used to tell me she thought she was pregnant. Come to think of it, we only had two kids and she seemed like she was sick a lot.

I HAVE TO admit, there are problems when people know who you are. I can’t imagine being Plaschke.

I went to Dodger Stadium Monday night to welcome the first-place Dodgers home, and right away I was recognized. “Oh, it’s you again,” said one of the ushers.

I was there almost two hours before they opened the gates to the public and sat in a seat behind home plate waiting for Kevin Brown to smile. I figured I was going to be there awhile.

But the Dodgers saw me and ordered me to vacate that seat, then put up a sign saying only ticketed dugout club guests could sit there, and put a guard on alert, who kept talking into his tie like he was Maxwell Smart.

Another usher directed me to some chairs. I think he was in contact with the Movie Guy because he put me directly in harm’s way--if Mike Fetters threw a wild pitch while playing catch with teammate Terry Adams I was a goner.

I’ve seen Fetters pitch. I didn’t sit down. He threw a wild pitch.

Upon reflection, I realize now anonymity probably works in my favor.

I can be sitting next to USC President Steven Sample, writing down everything the guy says, and he’s not going to have any idea that he’s talking to me. Who cares if he doesn’t return my calls?

I’ll no longer have to worry about bumping into Sylvester Stallone at the gym and having him pummel me, and now when I yell at Phil to lay off Kobe, he’ll just dismiss me as some jerkwater fan. It will be so nice to be a complete nobody like Brian Johnson. Hint: He plays for the Dodgers.

Now I’m pretty sure I’ll never be able to blend in with Raider fans because I like to shave and take showers, but this probably will give me the chance to go to hockey games now without being pestered for my expertise on what the Kings should be doing. I get so tired of that. But for the record, I think they should try to score more.

While the column picture is still fresh for some, I’ll probably have to go disguised as a nice guy for the next few months. And as soon as we’re all sure that no one remembers what I look like, it probably won’t be necessary for the grocery bagger to start my car before I get behind the wheel.

THE RECENT ESPN THE MAGAZINE cover story on Dodger outfielder Gary Sheffield begins this way: “Don’t you boo him. Don’t you boo him until you hear what baseball does to a black man and the mother he left behind at 17. . . .”

Later, Sheffield is quoted as saying, “There’s just a lot of bull in this game. You say Jackie Robinson came into baseball and things changed, but have they really? When blacks like me get injured hustling, we’re injury-prone; when they get injured hustling, they’re hustling. They want to win; we don’t want to win.”

The magazine put “they,” when used, in italics.

Sheffield went on to say, “People talk about no white players in the NBA; well, there ain’t many blacks in baseball. We’ve got to be the great players, because we won’t be the last guy on the bench. We’ve got guys in the minors who can run circles around some big leaguers, but these big leaguers play golf with the manager. So we’ve got to be twice as good to get up here. You see a lot of Dominicans and Latins instead of us, players from real poverty. But it’s because they can easily control them. They can say, ‘I’ll send you back to your country.’ ”

SHEFFIELD IS OUTSPOKEN, but not necessarily communicative.

After young pitcher Jose Nunez was bombed by the Cubs over the weekend, Sheffield was asked what support he could give his teammate.

“I don’t even know if he [speaks] English, so I don’t know what you can do,” he said.

SHEFFIELD, who makes around $10 million a year, hit a homer last night.

No one booed.

EVERYONE IN ATTENDANCE at Dodger Stadium tonight will be given a baseball cap so no one will take Chad Kreuter’s.

I APPRECIATE THE fact everyone was thrilled with Shaquille O’Neal’s dominating performance against the Kings, but he did shoot the ball 32 times and roughly from three feet away from the basket. And missed 15 times.

What happens to the Kings when he’s on target?

TODAY’S LAST WORD comes in an e-mail from Dave:

“I hate to join the long list of people who point out faults with your column, but I can’t pass this up. You referred to someone who works at Fox as a journalist. You should know better than that.”

I regret the error.

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T.J. Simers can be reached at his e-mail address: t.j.simers@latimes.com