Last night, like most summer nights, Mrs. P and I settled down in front of our TV to watch a Phillies game. The Fightin' Phils were playing the beleaguered Miami Marlins in Miami, coming off a series win against the league leading Brewers up in Milwaukee. The always unpredictable Phillies kicked off the game with an early lead on a Bryce Harper RBI single.
In the top of the fourth inning, hirsute outfielder Brandon Marsh cranked a two-run shot to right centerfield making the score 4-1 in favor of the Phillies. The next batter, newly-acquired centerfielder Harrison Bader, took a 1-1 pitch from Marlins reliever Lake Bachar and sent it 410 feet into the left field upper deck of LoanDepot Park. The Marlins, who have not been doing particularly well this season, only managed to draw a little over 15,000 spectators to a stadium that holds over 37,000. Needless to say, each section boasted more
empty seats than ones with
fans in them (if there are, i
ndeed, any Marlins fans). But, as with any ball - fair or foul - that finds its way into the stands, a small crowd gathered quickly around the spot where the ball landed. There was a bit of a scramble as a knot of fans reached and grabbed — until one lucky fellow in a red Phillies t-shirt emerged from the melee with the homerun ball held tightly in his fist. He made his way back to his seat (one section over from "Ground Zero") and presented the ball to his son, also decked out in Phillies red and sporting a large baseball mitt on his left hand. A few other folks, seated on either side of the man and his son — also in Phillies colors — lauded the boy with congratulatory shoulder pats. Dad gave the boy a warm "father-son" hug. Everyone was happy for this kid.
Well, almost everyone.
Just as Dad was basking in a moment of satisfying familial bonding, this angry woman from one section over came to voice her outrage. Apparently, she was one of the people in hot pursuit of the Harrison Bader homerun ball. (She can be spotted and identified by her distinctive hairdo in the crowd photo above.) She shrilly interrupted a serene "father-son" moment with harsh words, flailing arms and a vindictive attitude. (I'm guessing a Delco transplant or just in South Florida for a visit.) She startled the man and evoked a look of horror from the boy. Even without sound, her little game of "Outraged Charades" could be clearly understood. She was
obviously of the belief that the ball was rightfully hers. After all, she held a ticket for a seat in Section 135, entitling her (if she interpreted the agreement printed on the back of her ticket correctly) to "all baseballs that land anywhere in a fifteen foot radius of her seat." The woman pressed closer to the man, scowling and pointing to accentuate her case. Exasperated and defeated (and just wanting this woman to leave), he relented. He pulled the ball out of his son's protective glove and handed it over to the woman. She snapped it out of his hand and she stomped away. Her exit was accompanied by a rousing chorus of "boos" from the surrounding crowd.
Now, I don't know if you've ever been to a baseball game and I don't know if you've ever had a ball land near you, but there are a few things you should know. First, a hit baseball comes off a player's bat as though it was fired out of a cannon. If you feel that you are in the ball's trajectory, your first inclination is to duck or otherwise get out of the way for fear it may — very well — take your head off. Second, there are unwritten rules among fans regarding any ball that finds its way into the seating area. And those rules are... there
are no rules. It's every man (or woman) for themselves. No matter who grabbed or touched or saw the ball first. No matter where your seat is in proximity to the ball's landing point. No matter how many games you've been to or how long you've been a baseball fan. Whoever walks away from those reaching for the ball... gets the ball. The end. No further discussion. One exception, as per the same unwritten baseball etiquette, is: if you are an adult, give the ball to a kid,
for chrissakes!
Did you understand all that? Because Two-Tone Tessie sure as hell didn't get the memo. Her relentless badgering of this poor man was... was... embarrassing, uncomfortable and went against everything baseball and human decency has taught us. For the remainder of the game, she sat in her seat, gripping the five-ounce, leather-covered, 216 red-stitched hunk of cork, and got "booed" and jeered and heckled by everyone within earshot. At one point, she even stood up and gave the crowd "the finger" with the same hand in which she held the spoils of her triumph.
Meanwhile, someone in the Marlins organization got wind of the situation. They sent a team representative up to the boy's seat and presented him with a big bag filled with baseball and Marlins promotional merchandise. The elation on his face when the team rep handed over the bag revealed the return of a good mood to the boy and his family.
But, things didn't end there. The broadcasters rarely acknowledge
anything of this nature during a game, but Ruben Amaro Jr, a former Phillies player turned broadcaster, expressed his displeasure with the whole affair — live on the air — in between his non-stop (and usually irritating) analysis of the game in progress. The immediacy of social media was instantly ablaze with viral video and acerbic commentary, along with on-the-spot video of the incident shot from different vantage points. Commenters on various social media platforms weighed in (as commenters do), saying that the dad should have never given up the ball. Others said they would have tossed the ball back on to the field and told the woman: 'You want the ball? Go get it." Some clever internet user even referred to her as "Cruella De Phil."
The entire situation found its way to the Phillies. After the game — a gratifying 9-3 whupping of the Marlins — arrangements were made for the boy (later identified as "Lincoln" and just a few days shy of his birthday) and his family to meet Phillies centerfielder Harrison Bader. Bader, a recent acquisition from the Minnesota Twins, has already endeared himself to Philadelphia baseball fans with his infectious energy, quirky "crabwalk" when positioning himself under fly balls and his blond curls poking out from under his cap. Bader, still in his game uniform, met Lincoln and his clan in the cement depths of the stadium. He shook the boy's hand and inscribed a bat for him, saying, "Sorry you didn't get a ball, but I have a signed bat for you. Is that okay?" Lincoln's smile let Bader know it was
more than okay. (Later commenters speculated that the woman would lay claim to the bat as well.) With the revolving door that has been the Phillies offense in centerfield, I think Harrison Bader may have just landed that permanent position.
 |
| © Philly Goat |
As for the woman who finally got her ball? Well, social media has promised to find out her name and make her famous in a way she would rather not gain fame. Local Philadelphia news outlets have flooded the internet with the sordid tale. National media like Newsweek and TMZ have also spread the story. And local t-shirt studio Philly Goat has already immortalized her and the incident has already taken its rightful place in Philadelphia sports history... alongside throwing snowballs at Santa Claus and making death threats to Mitch Williams.
Go Phils. Go Birds. Yo.
www.joshpincusiscrying.com
No comments:
Post a Comment