When Fellow Fans Attack

Hayes Bowman

What do you have to do to get tossed these days?

I attended the Mariners game Sunday (M's lose, big surprise) so drunk I had difficulty reading the aisle numbers off those large-enough-for-blind-people-wearing-sunglasses signs, with not one, not two, but three of those huge Labatt's beer cans on my person (setting the record for most smuggled beer only because I learned at the feet of the master), which I proceeded to down while (I think) heckling the Mariner Moose ("die, you freak of nature," etc.) and, I'm sure, swearing repeatedly.

And yet I wasn't thrown out. It wasn't until the seventh inning, when I decided that it would be a bright idea to sidearm gingersnaps onto the field (my best throw, from aisle 124, row 32 - shallow right center, a triumph of motor skills over intoxication), that I was finally turned in by my fellow 'fans'. A middle-aged man wearing a "classic" M's mesh cap with the plastic one-size-fits-all led the cop to me and made an elaborate production of pointing me out (imagine a ballet jette with exaggerated arm gestures), at which point there was applause from the section.

So the cop, a King County hire of the type that hassles people out of their seats when the game ends, asked me, "what were you throwing on the field?" Fortunately, I'd hidden the gingersnaps in question by pushing them under the seats of the family in front of me (trust me, for the state I was in this was like coming up with the theory of relativity in 1919).

Tough question to answer, really, and I was trying to figure whether I'd simply admit "gingersnaps' since I didn't particularly care if I was tossed, or plead ignorance and see if I could deny it when the woman in front of me held up the bag of gingersnaps proudly and said "these gingersnaps, which he pushed under our seats."

To which I didn't have a response. Fortunately, the cop took the 2-lb. bag of good eatin' and loudly said, "this is mine now." Ooookay. "If you or anyone around you throws anything on the field, you're out of here."

I nodded, trying to not bust out my smirk. The cop then turned back to leave but this old, fat woman (who had yelled at me during the first inning to watch my mouth - before I started swearing) started yelling at the cop "He was throwing those on the field!" the cop acknowledged them, holding up the bag, and then left.

I wasn't really paying attention to that, though, as I was still thinking over the fact that I had not been tossed from the game, despite practically getting down on my bended knees and begging for it. If throwing ginger snaps at Brady Anderson isn't enough to get you thrown out, what is? I ask you, what kind of a country do we live in, what kind of a sport do we follow where a fan can throw freaking ginger snaps on the field - a number of them, no less, with good distance - and not get tossed?

Later, someone commented that they'd never seen something so immature since 7th grade. Frankly, I couldn't agree more. I'm not embarrassed about my conduct as much as my throws - I only got one really good one into shallow right-center, out of five. I wish I hadn't had to drink that pitcher of DPA myself before help arrived (and then the other, and then the beer I smuggled in), because I'm sure with a little less alcohol I could have done even better.

However, I would like to point out that I didn't miss Guillen's first hit, RBI, or stolen base, despite being fit to be locked up. I think it's important not to drink past the point where you know who to boo and cheer, like the cops and the fat people trying to have you tossed.

 

 

about the author

Hayes Bowman is not a role model. He may insist that he is, but he isn't. No matter what he may tell you about his friendship with the Teletubbies, don't let the fry write him for advice at bowman@strikethree.com. You have been warned.