Foul Ball
October 14, 2008
My dad and I once went to a Tennessee Smokies game. They’re a minor league affiliate of the Chicago Cubs, and they have $1 hot dog/beer nights that attract vacationers in the area. I was too young to be interested in the beer, but the hot dogs were a good deal.
Despite the promotion, the stadium was relatively empty the day we went, and because it was a minor league game we were able to get seats right behind home plate for ten bucks or so. Given the lack of competition around us I was able to scurry a few rows over and catch a foul ball about halfway through the game- the only time I’ve ever managed that particular American dream.
The Smokies lost in a nail-biter, despite a 4 for 4 effort by their then-catcher Jayson Werth. After the game, I ran over to the seats by the dugout to try to get the ball I’d caught signed. None of the players were prospects I’d heard of, but having seen Werth’s 4 for 4, I figured he was the best candidate for a memorable souvenir.
Initially, Werth shrugged me off, but luckily a younger kid and his mom approached just as I turned away. The mom gave him a stern look, and he signed the younger kid’s ball. Now trapped, he signed mine too.
Werth has since bounced around the majors as a bench player, and now platoons right field for the Phillies. This season, as a result of injuries in the Philedelphia outfield, he started much of the season, and on May 16th hit three home runs in one game, tying the Phillies single game record with 8 RBI.
One Christmas, my mom gave me one of the several balls David Cone signed after his perfect game with the Yankees on July 18th, 1999. The balls were immediately sealed and sent off to be sold to fans. It’s one of my favorite gifts I’ve received, first because watching that game was such a special moment to be a young Yankee fan, and second because it symbolizes the gleeful absurdity of being a sports fan: somehow having an ordinary ball signed makes it magical.
The Werth ball is special too, for a different reason. Other than that 8 RBI night, Werth isn’t going to go on to break any records or have historical significance. But, actually being at the game and catching the ball and then getting him to sign it makes me inextricably a part of the event, however inconsequential and forgettable.
Both signed balls get at the joy of watching baseball: you find yourself believing that having a signed ball is having a part of history, and that catching one is being a part of history. You believe that if you only feel strongly enough or cheer loudly enough, then you are the reason your team rallies or that a home run ball stays fair, and I think it’s good to believe something that’s harmlessly not true every so often.
