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A person can get away with doing almost anything these days, especially if she's a girl. And particularly if she's Victoria Medlin. Victoria is the girl in those Vitalis TV commercials who romps into the Miami Dolphins' dressing room, helps Lineman Larry Little remove his jersey, snatches Bob Griese's hair spray, uses it on herself, hands it back to Griese and then—as she turns to go—slaps Griese on the rump and says, "Nice game, Bob." In another, Victoria grabs Pete Rose's Dry Control and gives his hair a varnishing before whacking him on the stomach and saying, "Now work on the gut." Pleased with the results, the agency handling the pitch is hunting around for new victims. Victoria, meanwhile, is hiding out from possible retaliation behind an unlisted telephone number in Manhattan.

One prospective new victim could be Richie Scheinblum, who led the American League in hitting for a while last year and started accumulating everything that spells permanent big league—an outfield spot in the All-Star Game, a pad in Kansas City, fancy furniture, job security, endorsements.... Well, no, check that. The furniture was rented, which was good, because Scheinblum was shuffled off to Cincinnati, and those lucrative endorsements just didn't come in. As Scheinblum admitted in the ad he finally did make, "No one ever called me to do a hair-spray commercial. This lack of judgment on their part could have been due to a lack of hair on my part." But naked talent triumphed. Scheinblum was scouted and signed by an outfit called Hair Replacement Centers. There is now more substance to his top crop, his wallet and his chances for other testimonials.

Democratic National Committee lawyer Joseph Califano, playing tennis at the indoor courts in McLean, Va., ran into none other than Jeb Stuart Magruder, former deputy campaign director of the Committee for the Reelection of the President. Magruder's name had just been added to the list of defendants in the Watergate suit, from which the Democrats hope to net $6.4 million. Califano couldn't resist a volley at Magruder. "If I'd known I'd be seeing you," he bugged Magruder cheerfully, "I'd have saved expenses of a process server and served the subpoena myself."

Ken Houston is a safety for the Houston Oilers. And now he realizes how safety-minded he is. At the Texas Twin 200s, Houston rode in the pace car with New Orleans Saints Owner John Mecom, an auto-racing bug who once owned a racing team. "When they told Mecom to kick it up to 95," Houston reports, "I just closed my eyes and slumped down in the seat."

On one of his occasional fishing expeditions outside the Soviet Union, Russian Premier Alexei Kosygin dropped his line into Swedish waters—while wearing the same Homburg, dark, thick suit and midwinter Moscow overcoat he always seems to have on. The wife of his Stockholm ambassador hauled in a three-pound cod, but what brought a rare smile to the premier's face was his catch, the only other one the party made, a cod the size of a well-fed sardine.

There were two hockey banquets going on simultaneously in Portland, Ore. last week. At the one honoring the Buckaroos of the Western Hockey League, 43-year-old Andy Hebenton, a veteran of 23 years in the NHL and WHL, received three trophies: one as the team's most valuable player, another its most popular player and a third its most inspirational player. At the other banquet, honoring participants in the U.S. National Junior Hockey Tournament, 20-year-old Clay Hebenton, Andy's son, was named most valuable player, one-third the haul but a promising start.

The last we heard of Johnny McKay vs. Stanford, the USC coach was busy mending fences. Following his statement that "I'd like to beat Stanford by 2,000 points," he explained that he really had nothing against the football team, was only reacting to those Stanford students who had yelled obscenities at him. So he amiably accepted an invitation to address a Stanford awards banquet and consented to play golf with Coach Jack Christiansen. Now it turns out that there may yet be some further patchwork to be done. When Christiansen showed up for spring practice, his car license plates bore the letters ZAP USC.

Have you heard about the new Evel Knievel motorcycle doll made by the Ideal toy people? It jumps and flips and does wheelies. "In fact," an Ideal man says, "it does everything Evel does except go to the hospital."

Rey Robinson, the world record sprinter who failed to show up at the starting line on time, was missing on all cylinders again. Upset by a couple of unknowns from Memphis State in the Florida Relays 100-yard dash, he said sheepishly, "I thought it was the semifinals and I was just trying to finish in the top three." Less sheepishly, Memphis Coach Glenn Hays rebutted, "Hardly likely, hardly likely." A few days later Robinson learned he hadn't met the right schedule with his books either. He was declared academically ineligible for further competition this spring at Florida A&M.

Graying Archie Moore, who once promised that after he retired from the ring he would reveal his secret recipe for eternal youth—but never did—has a rival now in ex-middleweight champion Tony Zale, who did share his formula. After a lively exhibition match last month with Rocky Graziano, Zale said he mixed tea with orange juice, lime juice and parsley juice. Fine, as far as it goes, but here's the hard part: Zale drinks a quart of the stuff a day, which probably explains why Archie and the rest of us turn gray.