"Drinking nine or 10 beers, you get a little impulsive" was how he explained that crazy cooler-toss, his personal Gandhi moment back in 1985, when he protested the Orioles' new policy prohibiting fans from taking beer into Memorial Stadium.
But if you were around on summer nights in the late '70s and early '80s, when Orioles Magic was at its height, and a great bear of a man with a straw hat and burlap beard and beach-ball gut led the "Roar from 34," you know how passionate baseball fans used to be in this town.
You go to Orioles games at Camden Yards now and it's so quiet you could study for the law boards.
The fans talk on cell phones and wave and mouth "Can you see me?" to their friends back home when the TV cameras are on them.
The fans now talk about where they went on vacation and how the housing market is killing them, then they go off in search of nachos or Dippin' Dots or fancy microbrews.
In between innings, they dance and sing and get all fired up about which crab has the baseball or which hot dog wins the footrace on those goofy scoreboard games.
And maybe there's nothing wrong with that, except it sure would be nice to see people get fired up about what's happening on the field.
Um, isn't that sort of why we're there?
Here's how bad it's gotten at Camden Yards: Fans now have to be told when to cheer.
The scoreboard has to light up with "Let's hear it, O's fans!" or some kind of nonsense like that.
Usually only then do you get any life from the stands, any cheering and clapping.
And it's not the great, pure roar that "Wild Bill" Hagy could summon when he lurched to his feet in the old stadium, with a couple of six-packs sloshing around in his belly.
He'd take off his hat and wave it over his head, and the roar would get louder, so loud your ears would hurt.
After that he'd encircle both arms over his head and the crowd would roar: "O!"
Then he'd contort his body into some other unearthly shape that involved balancing on one shaky leg and hooking his arm until his fist rested against his forehead, and the crowd would roar: "R!"
And by the time he spelled out "O-R-I-O-L-E-S!" - you try doing this after swilling Anheuser-Busch products for three hours - it would be so loud, you thought the place would explode.
It's a different era now, I realize that. It's much harder to be an O's fan.