Because of the AP story that was recently written about me, there's been a case of mistaken identity. Basically, some guy posted a comment on this blog and falsely accused me of stealing a ball from his son--and since the comment was posted on an old entry, I'm sharing it here (along with my response) for everyone to see.

Here's the comment, posted at 10:28pm on June 28, 2008:

YOU are the guy who snagged, wait.. flat out STOLE a baseball underhand tossed by Aaron Rowland then of the Phillies intended for my 5 year old behind the visitors dugout at Shea last September.

No, it wasn't a misunderstanding.

At the last second you leaped from nowhere getting your fat butt in my son's face and STEALING his baseball. Then you ran like a girl when everyone who witnessed your manic behavior booed you.

YOU don't remember stealing the ball from my kid, but he sure does. Shame on you. Karma, baby, Karma.

Ouch! But like I said above, this is a FALSE accusation. Keep reading and you'll see what I mean. Here's the response (plus some added links) that I emailed to the guy at 2:32am on June 29, 2008:

Hey-

I just saw the comment you left on my blog, and while I'm terribly sorry to hear what happened to your son (and to hear that he's still upset about it), I want to assure you that I was NOT the person who stole that ball. Here's proof:

1) I keep a VERY thorough list of every player and coach who has ever tossed me a ball, and Aaron Rowand (not "Rowland") is not on it. That list can be found here on my web site.

2) I didn't see the Phillies play at Shea Stadium last September. (I wish I had so I could've booed them.) Of the five games I attended that month at Shea, one was against the Astros, another was against the Braves, two were against the Nationals, and the last was against the Marlins.

In addition, I know it wasn't me because I simply don't DO that to people. I'll admit that when I was a kid, I used to reach in front of people for balls, and I'm ashamed I acted that way. The good news is that I learned from my mistakes and cleaned up my act. Now, not only do I go out of my way to help kids get balls, but I even GIVE away lots of balls to kids.

So yeah, you got the wrong guy. It happens. No hard feelings, at least not from my end. I realize I'm pretty generic-looking, and on top of that, there are lots of other people at Shea who try to snag baseballs. Some, apparently, go about it the wrong way.

Again, I'm really sorry to hear what happened to you guys, and I hope this clears things up.

Sincerely,
Zack Hample

There've been lots of nasty things written about me on other blogs and message boards over the years. For those of you who just discovered this blog because of the AP story, I just want to say...don't believe everything you read. The AP story itself is great, but there are a lot of angry people out there who hide behind anonymous email addresses--people who've never met me yet still make assumptions and accusations. Check out my web site. Read this blog. Leave me a comment. Send me an email. Join me for a game. Watch me in action. Get to know me. You'll (hopefully) see that I'm not such a bad guy.

I just lost a lot of respect for Ken Griffey Jr.

Did anyone else see this article on MLB.com?

Wow.

Griffey wants his 600th home run ball back, so what did he do? He made a comment about how it isn't worth that much in order to discourage the fan who caught it from selling it.

"I didn't break any record, tie any record or anything," Griffey told MLB.com. "I was the sixth person to hit 590 and 602, too."

What a lame thing to say. And even if the ball IS worth as little as he claims, then why doesn't he just keep quiet and bid on it when it goes up for auction? He's made over $130 million in his career. I think he can afford it.

Meanwhile, when Griffey's equally lame agent, Brian Goldberg, was asked about the fan (a guy named Joe Scherer) who caught the ball, he had the nerve to say, "He's got to separate fantasy from reality...I don't think the dollar value is going to be anything close to what Joe thinks. This ball didn't break any records and it's not unique."

If it's not unique, then why does Griffey want it? What a bunch of tools.

Just a quick update (before I run off to my writing group) to let you know that the Associated Press story just hit the wire. USA Today already picked it up, and you can read it here.

In other news...
The Palm Beach Post recently ran a separate Griffey-related story about me. Check it out.

Gotta run. More later...

I did something really stupid...

Yesterday afternoon I charged the battery for my digital camera, and when I left for Shea a few hours later I forgot to take it off the charger. I realized I'd done this as soon as I got off the No. 7 train and tried to take a pic of Citi Field, and for a second I considered heading right back to the subway and going home. You know how some people feel naked without their cell phone or jewelry or makeup? That's how I feel when I don't have my camera.

Anyway, I decided to stay, and it's a good thing...and as for the no-camera issue, I was able to scan a couple things when I got home (like my five-dollar ticket) and take some pics of the balls and dig up a few old photos of Shea to illustrate the day's better stories.

My first 50 minutes inside Shea turned out to be a complete waste of time. First of all, the Mets hadn't even started taking batting practice when I ran inside at 4:40pm, and when I finally headed up to the second deck (aka "the Loge Level") in right field there was no action. There were exactly ZERO balls that landed in the seats, I couldn't get any players to toss me a ball, and it got worse from there. I tried to use my glove trick to snag a ball that (for some strange reason) was resting on a little wooden platform above the gap behind the right field wall, but unfortunately it was stuck in a rut against a metal pole and before I had a chance to dislodge it, an usher on the Field Level noticed what I was doing and ordered me to stop.

My friend Greg (aka "gregorybarasch" if you read the comments on this blog) was at this game, and when he saw my failed glove trick attempt from the seats below, he ran up to the Loge and snagged the ball fairly easily with his own ball-retrieving device: a cup trick. In most situations, my glove trick has its advantages over cup tricks, but this wasn't one of them. Greg's cup had a thin edge that slid between the ball and the pole, whereas the thicker fingers of my glove couldn't fit.

Not only had Greg already snagged a ball before he came upstairs, but he then got Billy Wagner to throw him his third ball of the day.

As soon as Greg caught it, he ran over and said, "You gotta see this!"

"Something tells me I don't want to see it," I said, but it was too late. Greg was already holding out the ball, and I nearly had a heart attack. The stitches weren't red...they were gray and navy blue...it was...a 2008 All-Star Game ball...WHAAAT?!?!?!

I couldn't believe my eyes, but it was true. It was the same ball I'd been trying not to notice every time I filled out an All-Star ballot. Weeks before Greg caught this ball, I was already so worked up and pissed off about NOT being able to snag one (because I can't afford to go to the All-Star Game) that I'd been planning to go out of town during All-Star week and NOT watch any of the festivities on TV. It was just going to be too painful to see these commemorative balls sailing into the seats at a stadium I'd been to hundreds of times.

Greg went back to the Field Level, and I was on a mission like never before. I figured that if there was one All-Star Ball in use, there had to be another and I paid extra close attention to every ball that rolled anywhere near me. Of course, I was about 30 feet above the field so it was tough to distinguish the standard balls from the prized All-Star balls, but I tried my best.

Soon after, a home run landed in the bullpen, and while I couldn't pick out any special logo, I knew what to look for: the ball was brand new and the seams did not appear to be red. I kept my eye on that ball for five minutes, hoping that a player or coach would stroll into the 'pen and retrieve it, but eventually some random employee went and got it, turned down my request for it, and flung it back onto the field. The ball rolled to a spot about 20 feet behind Oliver Perez (who's always been friendly to me).

"Oliver!" I shouted, "right behind you!"

Perez turned around and looked briefly at the ball but didn't move. That's when Pedro Feliciano (who has NEVER and WILL never throw me a ball) walked over and picked it up and took a long look at it. Ohmygod, it WAS an All-Star Ball, and I begged him for it. What did he do? He turned around and waved condescendingly at me and then tossed it to another fan on the Field Level.

I made sure not to ask for any balls unless I was certain that they were of the All-Star variety...but most of the balls that rolled onto the warning track were standard balls. Finally, Claudio Vargas walked over and retrieved a ball that had the All-Star logo. I was the only fan who asked him for it. He looked up at me, told me he'd give me a ball later, chucked the All-Star ball back toward the bucket, and promptly moved to center field.

The Mets' portion of batting practice was going to be ending soon, and not only didn't I have an All-Star ball...I didn't have ANY balls. It wasn't late enough in the day to start worrying about being shut out altogether but the thought did cross my mind.

Enter Dave Racaniello. He's been the Mets bullpen catcher since 2001, and although he doesn't know me by name, he does recognize me. He knows all about my baseball collection, and he still tosses me a few balls per season. It's awesome. Usually, whenever a player or coach (or bullpen catcher) recognizes me, that's it. No more balls. But that's not the case with this guy. I can't explain it. He's just cool like that.

With 15 minutes remaining in BP, I saw Racaniello pick up a standard ball in right field and head into the bullpen. I kept my eye on him but didn't say anything. That's when HE looked up at ME and took the ball out of his glove as if he were about to toss it up and shouted, "Here ya go, ball number three thousand--"

"Wait! Wait! Wait!" I shouted, holding out my open palms as if to say "stop."

Racaniello gave me a funny look, and I kept talking: "I noticed you guys are using a few All-Star balls in BP..."

"We are?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said, "and I would DIE to get my hands on one. Is there any chance that if you happen to see one, you could hook me up?"

"I'll see what I can do," he said and disappeared from sight.

Ten minutes passed. He was nowhere to be seen. It was 5:30pm. The Mets were going to wrap up their portion of BP in five minutes. I had to get downstairs and try to work my way into the seats behind the dugout. I knew there was a good chance to get a ball there, even a regular ball. I was getting desperate. And just as I was about to exit the Loge, Racaniello appeared in right field and looked up at me. He had a ball in his hand. OH MY GOD. He waved me over to a section in foul territory where there weren't any fans. I ran through the aisle, and then he waved me back. Ha! He was messing with me, and a few Mets pitchers were looking on. I rolled with it and kept moving back and forth as he made gestures like a traffic cop. The usher in my section realized what was about to happen and pretended to jump in front of me and interfere, but he soon backed off, and Racaniello unleashed a throw. I was right in the aisle, about six rows back from the railing. That way, if his throw fell short, it would at least reach the empty seats and I could pick up the ball, but "Rac" (as the players call him) threw a perfect strike, and I made the catch. I opened my glove, and this is what I saw:



I thanked him profusely, then hugged the ball and blew kisses at him (which he may or may not have appreciated--let's not make any assumptions either way) and flew down to the Field Level. There was an all-out mob of fans behind the dugout, but none of them were going for balls. They were all there for autographs, and I managed to find a spot in the front row. Three minutes later, when all the players and coaches came off the field, I made a leaping catch for a ball thrown by Duaner Sanchez and then got coach Sandy Alomar Sr. to toss me a ball 30 seconds later. What kind of balls, you ask? Voila!



Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls...there is now extra incentive to see the New York Mets.

Does the name Danny Wood sound familiar? It should if you've read (and memorized) my last four blog entries, but just in case you've forgotten:

1) He's a season ticket holder at Coors Field.
2) He snags a LOT of baseballs.
3) One of those balls was Barry Bonds' 698th career home run.

Danny and I had never met until our mutual friend Dan Sauvageau (another bigtime ballhawk) introduced us outside Gate E four days earlier--and and on THIS day, I took a pre-Coors detour to visit his place and check out his baseball collection. Dan had been telling me I had to see it. I couldn't imagine what the big deal was, but let me just say he was right:



The photo above doesn't even BEGIN to capture the magnitude of his collection, so hopefully the following photos will. Here's another shot of Danny's collection:



Every ball in the double-case above was autographed by a Hall of Famer. We're talking more than 150 balls, and most were signed on the sweet spot. It was truly awesome.

Now...keep in mind that Danny hasn't caught all these balls himself or gotten them all signed in person. He's bought lots of stuff on eBay, but still, it was the most incredible collection I'd ever seen.

There were several smaller cases of note. Here's one that had a variety of All-Star and World Series balls:



Here's one with Little League balls and various National League presidents:



One of his cases featured balls that were falling apart...



...and another had nothing but baseball boxes from various manufacturers:



Then there were individual balls that I'd never seen in person and, in some cases, didn't even know existed. In the photo below, the top two balls are self-explanatory, and as for the bottom two...



...the ball on the left is from the Negro Leagues, and the ball on the right is an official American League ball from 1927 which oh-by-the-way just happened to be signed on the sweet spot by Babe Ruth.

Ever heard of "millennium balls"?



Neither had I.

Let me start with a big THANKS to everyone who took photographs of me yesterday. I really appreciate it...

Okay, so the Associated Press was done with me. They had followed me around for the past two days and felt they got everything they needed, so I was on my own. As a result, I decided to break out the big glove (which I had used only once before on 4/24/08 at Champion Stadium). I figured the Indians were sick of me and probably wouldn't throw me any balls unless I had an edge--a really, really obnoxious edge.

As soon as I ran inside Coors for batting practice, two home runs clanged off the metal bleacher benches in left field, and I grabbed them both. Check out the gash on the first ball:



Before the bleachers got crowded, I was able to race up the steps from the front row whenever a home run was sailing over my head:

For the second day in a row, the Associated Press was waiting for me at the top of the stairs when Gate E opened at 5pm:







The photographer (David Zalubowski...standing on the right) took pics as I bolted up the stairs, and the writer (Pat Graham...wearing the white striped shirt) sprinted after me as I raced through the concourse and headed to the front row in left field.

Within the first few minutes of batting practice, Rockies pitcher Jorge De La Rosa tossed me a ball, and I used my glove trick to snag another off the warning track.

As soon as there was a break in the action, I labeled the balls and scribbled down a few notes on my rosters. David kept taking photos and Pat looked on:




In the photo above, there are three important fans that need to be pointed out. The blond woman on the right is Deb Arguijo, the mother of Jameson Sutton who snagged Barry Bonds' 762nd home run ball. The man to the left of Pat (in the dark cap and flowery shirt) is Danny Wood, the guy who caught Bonds' 698th home run and robbed me of several BP balls two days earlier. And finally, the guy standing to the left of Danny (in the maroon cap) is Dan Sauvageau who once caught two home runs on a fly in one inning and turned down a request to be on "Good Morning America" because he was going on a golf trip the next day.

This was it...the big day...my first of two games with an Associated Press writer named Pat Graham.

Pat picked me up at my hotel at 2pm, took me out to lunch, and interviewed me extensively about my baseball collection. We had talked for an hour before I'd left for Denver, and by the end of the meal, he had more than 5,000 words of notes and quotes on his laptop.

We headed over to Gate E at 4:45pm. Pat had a press pass that gets him into just about any game in any sport in any stadium--but he didn't have a ticket for this game at Coors, so he had to trek halfway around the stadium to the media entrance and then rush back. He barely made it in time, and it's a good thing because I snagged three home run balls within the first minute or two of batting practice. The first landed in the front row aisle all the way out in left-center field and rolled to an usher who was kind enough to step aside and let me grab it. The second (pictured here on the left) landed several rows deep in the bleachers near the foul line, and since the stands were still mostly empty, I had time to race up the steps from the aisle and cut through the section of metal benches. The third landed 15 rows deep and conveniently bounced right back to me.

As soon as I stopped running all over the place for balls, the Associated Press photographer showed up, but before long, he got a cool action shot of me lunging for (and catching) a ball tossed by Indians pitcher Scott Elarton. Over the next 20 minutes or so, I got two more balls thrown to me (one of which I gave to a kid with a glove) by David Dellucci and Edward Mujica, and that was IT for batting practice. It was incredibly frustrating. I came within five feet of at least half a dozen balls, both home runs and ground-rule doubles. I don't know what was going on. I just seemed to be consistently out of position or a step too slow. Was it just bad luck? Was I losing my edge? I really can't explain it. Then, on several occasions, when I left my spot briefly to try to get a ball thrown to me somewhere else, the batter ended up hitting a home run RIGHT to where I'd been standing. It was just one of those days, and the worst moment of all occurred late in BP. First check out the following photo (taken by my friend Robert Harmon...the guy from my Bonds 762 article), and then I'll explain what happened:



Let me start by identifying everyone:

1) the AP photographer
2) an usher (note the tunnel that he's standing in)
3) a guy named Dan who reads this blog and brought his copy of my book for me to sign
4) Zachary Ben Hample
5) Pat Graham
6) pure evil

The day started with five hours of sleep and a delayed flight from New York City to Denver. My friend Dan Sauvageau (who has caught 36 home runs on a fly during games) picked me up at the airport and drove me to my hotel, and soon after I made the 15-minute walk to Coors Field.

I didn't have time to wander and take pics outside the stadium. I pretty much had to head straight to the gate, and even though I arrived with half an hour to spare, there were already dozens of fans on line. Not only were the Rockies playing the Braves, but there was a big giveaway: replica championship trophies. By the time the gates opened, there were hundreds of fans, and it didn't matter to me because I had a ticket to snagging heaven...

If you've been reading this blog since last summer, you might recall that I posted an entry about my seat location before heading to the 2007 Home Run Derby and All-Star Game.

Well, I'm about to fly to Denver for five games at Coors Field, starting on Monday, June 16th, and since I'm going to have seats in very visible locations, I thought I'd give a heads-up so you can look for me on TV.

Here's a satellite image from Google Earth that shows where my seats will be throughout the week:



The "Friday night" location is the most important because the Mets will be in town and the game will be televised in New York City (my hometown).

Here's another image to show you where I'll be sitting during the Mets game on Friday, June 20th:

The story of the day was Ken Griffey Jr.'s 600th career home run. He hit it. I didn't catch it. I was five feet away from it. It hurts. A lot.

After missing out on SUCH an important ball, I literally didn't know what to do with myself. It felt pointless to go back to chasing foul balls, and right now I'd rather not be spending any mental energy writing about it, but life goes on and I suppose the story ought to be told so I guess I'll start from the beginning...



I arrived at Gate H at 4:40pm, nearly an hour before Dolphin Stadium was scheduled to open, and I wasn't the first person there. There was one other guy, and it turned out to be someone who reads this blog. His name is Andy (aka "munkittr" for those of you who read the comments). He lives in Tampa, has season tickets at Tropicana Field, and when he found out I was going to be at this game, he hopped in his car and made the four-hour drive. (Perhaps the fact that Griffey was still at 599 had something to do with his decision to come.)

This was the first time we'd met in person, and we talked nonstop for the next 50 minutes. At one point when Andy was discussing all the games he attends, another man who had joined our conversation said, "I bet you're single."

"Actually I'm married," said Andy. "Very happily married."

I was happy to see The Stereotype shot down once again--and even happier when I ran inside the stadium and saw that batting practice was already in progress. I headed to the furthest section in right-center field where the orange seats meet the blue tarp. The security guard who was stationed there had seen me snag eight balls over the previous three days, but that didn't stop him from tossing me another.

"You weren't saving this for a little kid?" I asked.

"You were the first one here," he said.

Do balls from security guards count in my collection? Absolutely. Over the years, countless guards at Shea and Yankee Stadium have gone out of their way to prevent me from getting balls. I've been ejected from games for breaking rules that security supervisors made up on the spot, just for me, just because I was "catching too many balls," so on the rare occasions that a guard actually shows me some love...yeah, you bet it counts. As for this guard at Dolphin Stadium, several other balls landed on the tarp and he gave them to whoever was smart (or lucky) enough to be standing nearby. Simple as that. Sometimes it was a kid. Sometimes it was an adult. There was no favoritism or attitude, and I appreciated it.

My second ball of the day was tossed by Marlins pitcher Logan Kensing. He had thrown one to me the day before and I thought for sure that he'd recognize me and give this one to someone else. Luckily, though, when it had rolled to the wall, I was the first one to ask him for it and he flipped it up without hesitating.

Ten minutes later, the Reds replaced the Marlins and I caught a Jay Bruce home run. Totally easy. I was on the stairs and had empty seats on both sides. Bruce lifted a deep drive to my left, and I drifted through the seats and reached up for an uncontested one-handed catch.

Ball No. 4 was a ground-rule double that was hit by a righty. It might've been Brandon Phillips. I'm not sure, and it doesn't matter. The ball bounced off the rubberized warning track, barely cleared the outfield wall, skimmed over half a dozen empty rows, and nestled into my waiting glove.

Ball No. 5 was tossed by pitcher Gary Majewski toward a couple little kids, but his aim was off and the ball sailed three inches over their helplessly outstretched gloves. The ball rolled right to me through the empty second row, and I immediately handed it over to one of the kids (whose father thanked me profusely).

Ball No. 6 was thrown by outfielder Corey Patterson, and then with about 10 minutes remaining in BP, I ran around the stadium to the left field side. Look how empty it was:




Of course I didn't get a ball out there because every Reds player ignored me, and then when I ran to the dugout at the very end of BP, Billy Hatcher tossed me a ball and missed.

Andy and I met up five minutes later (he snagged a few balls in straight-away right field and I'll let him share the details) and headed to the right field foul line. After we failed to get Mike Rabelo to throw us his warm-up ball, we decided to get someone to take our picture, and THAT, my friends, is when my camera died. I'm not talking about a dead battery. I'm talking about a message on the LCD screen that said, "Lens error, restart camera." I knew the camera wasn't going to last much longer. It was missing a few teeny screws, and the whole frame was a bit loose. The screen had a tiny crack in it. The "zoom" lever was slightly jammed...and the fact that I wasn't allowed to bring my backpack into the stadium didn't help. It meant I had to keep my camera in that flimsy (and overpriced) drawstring bag that I was forced to buy on the first day. It meant that the camera was in the same pouch as all my baseballs, my markers, pens, cell phone, wallet, glove, and hats. It got smacked around much more than it should've, and it died as a result. No doubt about it.

"Watch what's gonna happen," I told Andy. "I'm gonna catch Griffey's 600th homer and get to meet him in the clubhouse after the game, and I won"t be able to have my picture taken."

I just KNEW something big was going to happen. I felt it. I was sure of it. That's my luck. That's my life.

Andy and I parted ways. He headed to the right field seats to get in position for Griffey, and I went to the Marlins' dugout. Hanley Ramirez finished his pre-game throwing by flipping the ball to a little kid in the front row. One minute later, Dan Uggla finished playing catch with Cody Ross and tossed the ball toward two gloveless, middle-aged men who were sitting 10 feet to my left in the row behind me. They both stood up and reached for it and bobbled it--no wait...that's too kind...they butchered it--and it dropped into the row in front of them...MY row, which just so happened to be empty. Before they had a chance to lean over their fancy seats, I darted through the row and gloved the ball.

It was 7:08pm. The game was going to be starting in two minutes, so I raced up the steps and sprinted through the concourse (apologies to the beer vendor I nearly took out) and made it to the right field seats with less than a minute to spare. I'd purchased a ticket in (what I felt was) the perfect spot--the same spot I'd picked for each of the previous three days, and on each of those days, there'd been at least one security guard checking tickets in every tunnel. But on THIS day? No security in sight. I can't explain it, but perhaps if the penny-pinching Marlins had hired a little extra security, they wouldn't be facing this mess. Meanwhile, the seats were still pretty empty, but I was concerned that there might be a few extra opportunists in my way.

Jerry Hairston led off the game with an infield single.

Most of the fans in the section were crammed into the first 10 or 12 rows. The half dozen rows behind them were partially empty, but I need more than "partial" room to maneuver. I picked a seat in the 21st row--kind of far back, yes, but still within range (as I showed in my previous entry with diagrams from Hit Tracker).

A few fans moved into the row on my left, so I moved down two rows as Jay Bruce stepped into the box. I needed a whole row to myself. The odds that The Ball would be hit with the proper distance were far greater than the odds that it would be hit in the perfect direction. In other words, I was on the end of my row so I could run up or (more likely) down the steps, but that option was soon ruined when two fat men with gloves stood up and moved RIGHT into the middle of the steps five feet in front of me.

Jay Bruce took a called strike three, and Griffey walked toward the plate.

That's when I noticed that a tallish man with a glove had moved into the far end of the row on my left. All the seats between us were empty, and I remember thinking, "If the ball is hit to my left, that guy is gonna get in my way."

Mark Hendrickson, the Marlins' starter, quickly fell behind Griffey 3-0. Everyone in the section was booing. No one wanted to see Griffey walk again, and I was more relieved than anyone when he swung and missed at the next pitch.

The count was 3-1, and I was thinking that he was going to get a great pitch to hit, and that THIS might be it...and then...WHOOSH!!! Griffey unleashed a beautiful, effortless swing and sent the ball flying EXACTLY in my direction. At least that's how it appeared at the instant it left the bat. But line drives tend to hook, and this was certainly more of a line drive than a fly ball. I paused for a split second, half-expecting that this was going to happen, but  also half-disbelieving it. COULD IT REALLY BE THIS EASY?!?! I drifted through the empty row and never took my eye off the ball. I moved with it, just I had moved with hundreds of BP home runs in the past, and as the ball began its final descent, I realized that I was blocked by a couple fans who had somehow slipped into my row. NOOOOO!!!!! I knew I was boxed out as the ball kept hooking, and at the last second, when it was about 30 feet above the seats, it barely nicked the bottom of a support cable, causing its trajectory to fall off slightly. I was too stunned to react, and like I said, I somehow got boxed out and beat to the spot, and the ball disappeared into a pile of people at my feet...or so it seemed. I heard one guy at the bottom of the pile screaming, "I GOT IT!!! I GOT IT!!! I GOT IT!!!" and security surrounded us. Then another guy--THE guy with the glove who'd been standing at the end of my row--said calmly, "I have the ball. I have it...I have the ball," and a whole new group of security guards surrounded HIM. He was clutching his glove against his chest. I assumed he had The Ball tucked inside, but I never saw it. He was also saying that his bag had gotten caught on a seat and was buried at the bottom of the pile. Security told him to stay put, and while several of the guards stayed with him, a few others worked slowly to get people off of each other, at which point, I just wanted to get the hell out of there, so I climbed over the middle of the rows and got myself out of the section as quickly as possible. I was still stunned and at this point too devastated to even think, and for most of the next hour, I didn't know how I could even go on living. I'm telling you, it was THAT bad.

Andy had been sitting a couple sections over and caught up with me in the concourse. He bought me a chocolate ice cream cone and walked me toward the seats behind home plate before he headed back to the outfield. I ate the cone and made some phone calls and didn't bother putting on my glove. I was a mess (and for the record, no, I wasn't crying). I just wanted to go back to New York City, but my flight wasn't until the following afternoon. There really wasn't anything else to do but sit there and sulk. It was better, I figured, to sulk at a major league baseball game than to sulk in my hotel room. So I sat there. And finished the ice cream. And cursed way too loud when Griffey came up again and hit a foul ball RIGHT to the spot where I'd been standing for lefties the day before. They say luck has a way of evening things out, but it didn't work like that yesterday. It felt like the universe was against me.

I suppose I could feel proud to have picked the spot where the home run would land, and to have been so close to it, but I don't feel that way. That just makes it hurt even more. I wish Griffey had just hit the damn thing to right-center field instead (or better yet onto the tarp where security could've retrieved it and given it back to him). If it had landed four sections away, I wouldn't have anything to be upset about. All I could say would be, "Oh well, there was nothing I could do. At least I was in the building and got to witness it." But as things stand, I keep replaying the scene in my mind and thinking about what I could've done differently. What if I raced to the spot where the ball was going to land as SOON as it left the bat? Would I have been able to box out the other fans? I just didn't react with enough urgency. I drifted with the ball too slowly. Or did I? Maybe I really did move fast, and it only feels slow because I didn't get it, or because I'm a perfectionist and always feel like I could do better. I don't know. I felt awful, and I still feel awful, and I will always feel awful. That's just how it is. Unless you're from the future and know for certain that I'm going to catch A-Rod's 800th homer, there's nothing anyone can say to make me feel better. I have to live with this for the rest of my life. It could be worse, though. It's not like I let the ball clang off the heel of my glove. THAT would be awful. But still, I don't feel like I took full advantage of the situation. I wonder what would happen if I could relive that moment dozens of times, like Bill Murray in "Groundhog Day," and take different routes to the ball. I guess that'd be too easy, but I can't help thinking like that.

<sigh>

Well, I finally started going for foul balls again around the third inning, and it paid off (big whoop) because I got one that Bruce hit in the top of the fifth. It was a high pop-up that the fans in the first row of the club level dropped into my tunnel. Another guy standing next to me was closer to the ball when it fell, but somehow he failed to snatch it and he kicked it around, and the second it rolled toward me, I grabbed it. Why couldn't that have happened with No. 600? Why couldn't Griffey have swung a tenth of a second later? There are 600 'why's, and they're all eating at me right now.

Paul Bako hit two homers and knocked in five runs. Brandon Phillips also went deep for the Reds who cruised to a 9-4 victory. Oh, and I got an autograph during the game. There was a former player sitting in my section, and he signed a day-old ticket for me on his way out. That's your only clue. Take a look and try to guess who it is:



The first person who leaves a comment (not an email) with the correct answer will get a prize: a ticket from the "Griffey 600" game.

After the final out, I made it down to the front row behind the Reds' dugout and got two balls tossed to me within 30 seconds. The first came from Mark Berry, the third base coach, as a direct result of my wearing a Reds cap (he said so) and the second came from Hatcher after I told him that he'd missed me before. Then, as I walked up the steps to head to the concourse, a friendly security guard who'd seen me chasing foul balls throughout the series (and apparently hadn't seen me get the one from Bruce) pulled a "practice" ball out of his pocket and handed it to me. Does it count in my collection? I guess so. Is it cheap? Definitely. But whatever. I was entitled to a little charity after what I'd just gone through.

STATS:

• 11 balls at this game

• 172 balls in 22 games this season = 7.8 balls per game.

• 82 lifetime games with 10 or more balls

• 27 lifetime games outside NYC with 10 or more balls

• 17 different stadiums with at least one game with 10 or more balls

• 518 consecutive games with at least one ball

• 121 consecutive games outside NYC with at least one ball

• 867 lifetime balls outside NYC

• 116 lifetime game balls (not counting game-used balls that get tossed into the crowd)

• 24 lifetime game balls outside NYC

• 3,449 total balls

• 32 ticket stubs collected at this game (one of which will be mailed to the winner of the Mystery Autograph Contest)

I didn't think there'd be batting practice. This was a dreaded "day game after a night game," and on top of that the night game hadn't ended until 10:41pm, so I was overjoyed when I ran into the stadium and saw this:



A few Marlins pitchers were playing catch in the right field corner, and when they finished several others came out. It was perfect. There was a steady flow of snagging opportunities. If the entire pitching staff had been throwing at the same time, I probably would've only gotten one ball because all the guys would've seen me catch it. Instead, I got one tossed by Mark Hendrickson, then another five minutes later by Logan Kensing, then another five minutes after that by Ricky Nolasco. Nolasco's throw sailed to the left and fell two feet wide of my glove as I leaned over the railing. Fortunately, the ball landed in a folded up seat in the wheelchair aisle in front of the railing, and I was able to reach down with my bare hand and grab it.

I would've had five balls by that point if not for another baseball collector named Jordan--a college kid who lives in Florida, reads this blog regularly, and has been leaving sporadic comments since 2005 under the name "hockeyguy1011." Jordan (who recently caught 10 balls in one game at Dolphin Stadium) had already snagged two, and if not for me, HE would've had five. He let me get the first one from Hendrickson, so I let him get the next ball from Matt Lindstrom. Then I got the ball from Kensing and let him go to the dugout where he had no competition and got one tossed by hitting coach Jim Presley.

Once BP started, Jordan went to straight-away right field, and I camped out in right-center. He was on one side of the tunnel, and I was on the other. We each had our space, and we both did well. I used the glove trick to snag my fourth ball and got scolded/threatened by security. Nice job, ownership. Open your ugly stadium later than almost every other stadium, prohibit all 17 of your fans from bringing backpacks and food inside, and then institute a stupid, arbitrary rule during batting practice to prevent people from snagging a few extra baseballs so you can sell them for $25 apiece at the souvenir stands. Really...nice job.

At least Andy Fox was nice. I got him to hit me a fungo from about 150 feet away, and it was basically right on the money. The ball was heading right at me but fell a couple rows short. Rather than diving or lunging for it and risking an injury, I held back because I was 20 rows from the field, and with the exception of a couple fans in the first two rows, the seats all around me were TOTALLY empty. Well, wouldn't you know it...the ball hit the back of a seat and ricocheted back toward the field and kept bouncing and bouncing further away from me, first off the seats, then off the steps, until it had traveled all the way back down to the front row where some lucky kid gloved it. I asked for another try and Fox threw his arms up in disgust. I really thought I was out of luck, but he ended up tossing me another ball after I'd moved back down to the front row. I got my sixth ball thrown by Pierre Arsenault, the Marlins "bullpen coordinator," after another fan mistook him for Steve Foster, the "bullpen coach."

That was it for BP. It started late and ended early, but I was glad that it even happened at all. It's interesting that the Marlins were the ones taking BP. Normally the home team bats first and finishes about an hour and a half before game time. The Reds must've told the Marlins well ahead of time that they weren't going to hit so that the Marlins would be able to sleep late and still get their cuts.

As for the Reds, their entire pitching staff had been warming up in the left field corner, but by the time I ran over...



...only two guys were still throwing. Bill Bray, the lefty, tossed me the ball when he was done, perhaps because I was wearing a generic red T-shirt to go with my Reds cap.

I crossed paths with Jordan. He'd snagged five balls. His younger brother Jake hadn't snagged any and didn't seem to care...and took our picture.

My eighth ball of the day was tossed by Marlins catcher Matt Treanor along the right field foul line about 15 minutes before game time. There were a few other fans nearby. None of them had gloves or even bothered asking for the ball. It was one of the easiest snags of my life. Treanor had looked around briefly before tossing it to me, presumably to spot someone younger and/or cuter, but there just weren't any options.

About ten minutes before game time, I moved behind the 3rd base dugout so I could take a pic of the right field seats:

The good news is that I caught a Ken Griffey Jr. home run. The bad news is that it happened during batting practice. But before I get into that, I want to share a dozen pics I took outside the stadium before the gates opened. Here are the first nine...



...and here are the rest:

Milestone Month rolls on!

I haven't had a chance to answer comments for a few days, and I still don't have time to go back and answer them ALL, but for those of you who've asked questions recently, here are the answers:

GOISLANDERS4-
I definitely won't be at Yankee Stadium tomorrow.

MIKE.LOS-
I hope to have kids someday and pass along my collection to them.

MPOLLOCK-
Not sure about the RSS situation, and I still have no idea about Wrigley. I'd say there's about a 1-in-3 chance that I'll make it out this season.

CEETAR-
Nah, Victorino isn't getting jinxed. I think any player would've done the same thing in terms of not letting me get a second ball. I thought Victorino was nice and friendly and peppy, so I have no problem with him. As for going to Miami and/or Cincinnati...yes, I'm considering it.

JONELI24-
Not inexcusable at all.

AC-
Yeah, I carry old tickets to every game if I have them for the two teams I'm seeing. I won't be at Yankee Stadium on Saturday. You can enter the field level seats there at ANY point in the day regardless of where your ticket is. As for Guinness World Records...I've tried, believe me, but they're not very interested (because they're based in London and know nothing about baseball) and have basically made it impossible for me to prove.

CUBSBASEBALL-
The photo I took (of the guy who snagged Manny's 500th) ended up on the Red Sox site because I emailed a friend who works at MLB.com and told him he'd find the pic on my blog. I said he could use it and asked for a photo credit. That's basically it.

LEIGH-
I didn't get paid. I suppose I could've sold the photo somewhere if I were really enterprising and had more connections, but I was just glad to have my name associated with this milestone event, so I passed along the photo for free.

MLBWHIZ-
I was at PNC Park on May 17, 2001. I was supposed to go the next day, but the game was rained out.

DONNIEANKS-
I don't think I'll be at any of the games you mentioned.

SOXSUXYANKS-
I thought the Yankee fans were worse, but I asked an usher there about it, and he disagreed. So who knows?

FATHERPUCK-
I always forget about the scalp zone. Where exactly is it? Tell me everything I need to know.

DON-
I probably won't do a book JUST on snagging stories, but I would like that to be a big part of my next book.

CSPARKS-
Yeah. And I *was* keeping an eye on Chipper's 400th. So much for that.

PHILL-
I'm not sure exactly how long my string is. Probably about 30 feet.

JOSH-
I think someone else answered you already, but I get the face pics from the teams' rosters online. Just click on each player and you'll see his bio.

TRACYCOLLINSBECKY-
I do have an iPod but I wouldn't want to have to carry it around all day.

CHARLIE-
Not sure about the ump tapping. What was the context? When the batter pats the top of his head a few times, he's asking the second base ump to move out of his line of vision. I wrote about that in "Watching Baseball Smarter" so you might already know that.

It's hard to call this day "a waste" considering I snagged 10 more balls, but that's pretty much how I feel.

Once again, I drove from New York City to Philadelphia (this time by myself) to try to catch Ken Griffey Jr.'s 600th career home run--and once again, the aging superstar wasn't in the starting lineup. Of course I didn't find this out until the lineups were announced prior to the first pitch, but I knew something was wrong because Griffey never came out for BP.

Speaking of BP...
I snagged three balls in the first 20 minutes by using my glove trick in left field. I had to lean way out over the flower bed for all three, and if you forget what that looks like, check out my last entry.

A little bit later, while the Phillies were still on the field, I caught two home runs on a fly in a one-minute span. The first might've been hit by Pedro Feliz. I'm not sure, and it was fairly routine. I moved down a few steps, cut to my left through the empty third row, and reached up for the easy grab. My second catch, however, would've made every highlight reel in North America if it happened during the game. Pat Burrell launched a deep fly ball that was heading about 10 feet to my left, so I got in line with it by moving into the middle of my row. At first, the ball appeared to have the perfect distance, but as it began to descend I realized that it was going to sail a bit over my head...so I took my eye off the ball for an instant and climbed onto a seat and looked back up and spotted the ball and waited 'til the last second and timed it perfectly and then jumped high in the air. I made the back-handed catch high over my head in the tip of my glove and then (thankfully) landed back on the seat. The whole section erupted with cheers and applause. One kid shouted, "You are the MAN!!!" Everyone high-fived me and kept buzzing about the catch for quite some time, and I have to say it felt pretty good. Sometimes I make fun of people for congratulating me on catches that just aren't that difficult (some people are so unathletic that they think ANY catch is a great catch), but this one was truly awesome. Sorry for bragging, but seriously, I wish you could've seen it. The more I think about it...this might be the best catch I've ever made. Obviously I can't remember them all, but at the very least, it's in the top three.

The most frustrating moment of BP was when I saw Burrell launch another ball into the last section of the "200 level." It was frustrating because the seats were empty, and I knew the ball was going to sit there for another hour or two, and I wasn't allowed to go up there, even though my ticket was in the much better "100 level." How dumb is that? I hate the fact that stadium security is always so strict about guarding the club/suite level. Why would anyone want to sit there anyway?

The last round of Phillies BP was worthless because every batter was left-handed, and the rest of the stadium wasn't yet open. There was no reason to be in left field, so I headed around the batter's eye and waited impatiently behind the barricade in right.

Finally, at 5:35pm, I was allowed to run down the steps, and I quickly used the glove trick to snag my sixth ball of the day off the warning track.

Ball #7 was an Adam Dunn homer that landed in the partially empty seats.

Ball #8 was tossed by the always friendly David Weathers.

Then I spotted a ball lying on the warning track all the way across the stadium near the left field foul pole...so I ran back over, got it with my glove trick, and later gave the ball to a kid as he entered the stadium with his family. I basically just walked up to him and asked if he was hoping to catch a ball.

"Maybe," he said shyly, perhaps a bit embarrassed that he had a glove and that a stranger was asking him about it.

"Well, here," I said, holding out the ball. "You want this one?"

The kid must've thought it was a trick question because he just stared at me and then eyed the ball suspiciously.

"Thank you so much," said his father before urging his skeptical son to take it.

"I happened to get a few baseballs today," I said to the kid. "I have an extra one to spare, and it's all yours if you want it."

Finally, he reached out and took the ball and disappeared into the crowd with his family.

If there's a point to all of this, it's that I prefer to give baseballs to kids who don't ask, and I absolutely refuse to give balls away when people (usually ushers and rude fathers) demand it. Earlier in the day, after I'd been using the glove trick, I called out to Jayson Werth and asked for a ball on behalf of a kid who was standing nearby.

"Why don't you just give him one of yours?!" snapped Werth before firing the ball back toward the infield.

Because, you shmuck, despite the fact that you're not any better than me at judging fly balls, you ARE a major leaguer which means any kid would appreciate it 100 times more if he got a ball from you.

Anyway, my final ball of the day was a BP homer to straight-away left field that bounced off some guy's bare hands and landed near me in a half-empty row. And by the way, all five of the balls I got from the Reds had the word "practice" stamped on the sweet spot. In the picture on the left, you can see how I numbered the balls. (The ball on the top left, in case it's not obvious, or if you're new to this blog, was the 3,418th ball of my collection...and so on.)

After BP ended, I had that sinking feeling that Griffey wasn't going to play, and sure enough, after the national anthem was sung (badly by a group of 6th graders), the Reds starting lineup was announced:



No Griffey. Unbelievable.

I decided to stay for the game. Sat on the third base side. Tried to catch foul balls. Came about 10 feet from one. Blah. Griffey pinch hit in the 8th inning and walked on four pitches, and that was a good thing because I was nowhere near the outfield:



The Phillies won, 3-2, and I decided I was done with Citizens Bank Park for at least a few weeks.

STATS:

• 10 balls at this game

• 81 lifetime games with at least 10 balls

• 19th time snagging 10 or more balls in back-to-back games

• 145 balls in 18 games this season = 8.1 balls per game.

• 514 consecutive games with at least one ball

• 117 consecutive games outside NYC with at least one ball

• 840 lifetime balls outside NYC

• 3,422 total balls...moves me ahead of Honus Wagner (3,415), Cap Anson (3,418), and Carl Yastrzemski (3,419) for 6th place on the all-time hits list. Next up is Tris Speaker (3,514).

I attended this game for ONE reason: to catch Ken Griffey Jr.'s 600th career home run.

When I reached the ticket window, I learned that there wasn't a single seat available anywhere in the lower deck in right field. This wouldn't have been a problem at most other stadiums, but at Citizens Bank Park, there happens to be an usher or two at the top of every staircase; once the game starts, it's almost impossible to enter the seats without a ticket for that section.

Then, out of nowhere, as if sent by the snagging gods, a young man dressed in business attire walked up to the next window and asked if he could exchange his two tickets for another game. It just so happened that his seats were exactly where I wanted to be, in section 104 in straight-away right field. (Check out this seating chart.) I bought his tickets at face value--one for me and the other for Jona (who's now technically my ex-girlfriend, although we're still super close...long story...don't ask). I thanked the man, then said a little prayer for No. 600, and headed around the stadium to the left field gate.

Citizens Bank Park is normally great for catching home runs in batting practice, but it was surprisingly dead yesterday, so I focused on using my glove trick for the balls that rolled to the outfield walls.

First I got one in left-center field:



Shane Victorino had tried to mess me up by playfully throwing his glove at mine just as I got the ball to stick inside. Luckily he missed, and since he was more than 50 feet away, I had time to reel in the ball before he jogged over.

"Don't be hatin'," I said to him.

"Hatin' on what!" he demanded.

"Hatin' on my glove trick," I replied. "Don't be hatin'."

"I'm not hatin'," he laughed and jogged back to the spot where he'd been shagging in left-center field.

Two minutes later, another ball rolled to the wall even further out toward center field. Shane didn't see it, which was a good thing. The ball was about eight feet out from the wall, so I had to toss my glove out onto the warning track (while holding onto the string) and carefully pull it back to knock the ball closer:



Right after I reeled it in, two more balls rolled to the same spot, and as I was getting ready to lower my glove for a third time, Shane jogged back over.

"Go ahead," he said, "let me see how that thing works."

"Are you really gonna let me get the ball?" I asked.

"Go ahead," he repeated.

"If you let me get it," I said, "I'll give it to the fan of your choice."

He didn't say anything, so I started explaining how the trick works. I tilted the glove toward him so he could see me setting up the rubber band and Sharpie. Then, when the contraption was ready, I began lowering it. He even moved one of the balls closer to the wall for me, but then, at the last second, just as my glove was about to lower over it, he grabbed both baseballs and tossed them back toward the infield.

"That's just wrong!" I shouted.

He shrugged and kept jogging away.

"Shane!" I shouted again. "I taught YOU something! Now you have to teach ME something!"

He turned around. "Like what?!" he asked.

"Teach me something about baseball!" I said. "Teach me how you run so fast! I could use some extra speed!"

"That's something I was blessed with!" he yelled, and that was the end of that.

I got a third ball with the glove trick in the left field corner...



...and got a fourth in straight away left field. This one was the toughest of all because I had to lean over the flower bed just to see the ball...



...and then once I saw it, I had to lean/reach ever further to actually get it:



As you can see, I had to support all the weight of my upper body by balancing on a thin metal railing with my elbows. Meanwhile, the back railing was digging into my knees, which are now quite bruised, and it was totally worth it. As I've always said: the pain goes away but the ball lasts forever.

Cole Hamels tossed me a ball a few minutes later (ball No. 5 on the day). He lobbed it high in the air, and I reached up and caught it bare-handed over a few fans. Then I realized that one of them was a young boy (maybe six years old) with a glove.

"Did you get a ball yet?" I asked him.

He answered so quietly that I had to lean down and say, "What?"

"No," he said a little louder, this time shaking his head.

"Well, this one's for you," I said before handing it over and heading to the right field seats.

I got my sixth ball tossed by Gary Majewski and got another from Jeremy Affeldt soon after. Affeldt didn't look at me. He just grabbed the ball off the warning track and flipped it up randomly into the seats, so he didn't know that I already had one (or seven) when another ball rolled to the wall in right-center. Before he could get there, I started lowering my glove, and when he arrived, he just stood back and watched:




Jona later told me that one of the fans near her (a high-school-aged kid) was saying that the glove on the string was the stupidest thing he'd ever seen--that is, until I actually got the ball to stick inside.

I used the trick for a SIXTH time for a ball near the right field foul pole, and at the end of batting practice, I got Reds bench coach Chris Speier to toss me my 10th and final ball of the day.

Before the game started, I got Brandon Phillips to sign a Phillies-Reds ticket from last year. I was in such a good mood...so excited for the game and chance to catch a piece of history.

But then?

The starting lineups were announced, and Griffey wasn't playing!

Nooooooooooo!!!

Jona pulled out her iPhone and searched for Griffey on rotoworld.com, and we learned that he wasn't playing because of "general soreness."

Was there a chance that he might end up pinch hitting late in the game? Yeah, I suppose. But I had no interest in staying, given the circumstances which included the fact that I had to drive 100 miles back to NYC and then drive back early the next day, so I left with Jona after the second inning.

STATS:

• 10 balls at this game

• 80 lifetime games with at least 10 balls

• 135 balls in 17 games this season = 7.9 balls per game.

• 513 consecutive games with at least one ball

• 116 consecutive games outside NYC with at least one ball

• 830 lifetime balls outside NYC

• 3,412 total balls

It rained all afternoon and then got sunny just before the stadium opened. It was my nightmare: no batting practice and a big crowd.

I was the first fan to run inside when the gates opened at 5pm, and this is what I saw:



Chad Bradford was playing catch in shallow right field, and he finished throwing before I could turn off my camera and put it away.

"Chad!" I shouted.

He didn't respond.

"CHAD!!" I yelled even louder. "COULD YOU PLEASE THROW ME THE BALL?!?!"

Bradford whirled around and fired the ball at me (with a three-quarters release point, in case you were wondering), and I leaned out over the railing and made a back-handed catch.

At first, I was relieved to have gotten a ball right away on what was surely going to be a difficult day. Then, after a minute, my relief turned to excitement when it occurred to me that I had just snagged my 3,400th lifetime ball:



When the rest of the stadium opened at 5:30pm, I headed to the left field side. The Red Sox pitchers were throwing, and the first few rows were packed with fans, so I stayed about 10 rows back...



...and got Manny Delcarmen to toss me a ball over everyone's head. It was a thing of beauty.

I didn't have a chance to snag any other balls before the game started, but I did get Orioles manager Dave Trembley's autograph. He is SUCH a nice guy, and in a way, you can tell by the way he actually wrote every letter in his name. The reason I got him to sign my ticket from the previous day is that I wanted to keep my May 31st ticket pure in case Manny Ramirez connected for his 500th career home run.

Manny Ramirez had 499 career home runs. The Red Sox were about to begin a four-game series at Camden Yards. I had to be there.

I took a train from New York City to Baltimore, met my friend Jake at the station, dropped off my laptop and four days' worth of clothes at his place, and headed to the ballpark with him. I was prepared to stay for the whole series and then head straight to Boston, but this was the only game Jake would be attending.

We bought cheap seats (that we never sat in) and claimed a spot directly behind the Eutaw Street gate. We were the first ones there, and by the time the stadium opened at 5pm, there was an upsettingly long line behind us. Remember the crowd outside Camden for the Yankee game I attended late last season? It was something like that, so as soon as I got my ticket scanned, I sprinted through the concourse and headed into the right-center field seats. As I reached the front row, the batter ripped a deep line drive that rolled to the wall directly below me. Some random guy on the Orioles (wearing No. 68) happened to be jogging along the warning track, and I got him to flip the ball to me.

I didn't expect to snag a lot of balls, so it felt great to take care of the first one early.

The right field seats filled up fast...



...so when the rest of the stadium opened at 5:30pm, I raced around to the left field side. Less than 10 seconds after I got there, a righty on the Red Sox hit a ground-rule double that bounced over my head. Thankfully there was only one other fan behind me and I was able to grab the ball off the steps as he clumsily reached for it.

The left field seats kept getting more and more crowded--so crowded that I can't even describe it, so I'll just share a picture of the section toward the end of batting practice:



Somehow, Jake managed to snag three balls without really trying. He did have a glove, and he was shouting at the players, but he never moved from the front row and hardly broke a sweat. Meanwhile, I was stressing and cursing and running all over the place, and it sort of paid off because I snagged a third ball with my glove trick back in right-center. The ball had dropped into the gap. I saw this happen from left field, so I ran over and got it easily. That gave me 3,399 lifetime balls, and I should've gotten No. 3,400...but didn't. First, security stopped me from using the trick for a ball lying on the grass in front of the batter's eye. Then, back in left field, I got Hideki Okajima to toss me a ball by asking in Japanese, but a women (with a glove and a Red Sox cap) reached up and caught it in front of my glove at the last second. She was in the front row. I was standing on the seat just behind her. I tried to get Okajima to toss the ball high, but he threw it at my chest which gave the woman in front of me a chance to interfere.

That was it for BP. I didn't bother going to the dugout as the Sox left the field. The crowd was five rows deep. There was literally nowhere to go.

Jake ended up sitting with some friends near the Orioles' dugout, so I headed out alone to right-center field just before the game started. Left field was packed, but there WERE a good number of empty seats across the stadium. I knew these seats would be filling up fast, and once they did, I'd have no choice but to position myself in the standing room only section in straight-away right field. Manny was batting cleanup, and I needed him to bat in the top of the first inning. That meant at least one of the first three hitters had to get on base and NOT get caught stealing or erased on a double play.

Jacoby Ellsbury led off the game with a double to left (woo!), moved to third on a sacrifice bunt by Dustin Pedroia, and scored on a single by David Ortiz. Then the stadium got loud. Flashbulbs started popping. Manny was announced. Fans stood up. And Manny responded with a double down the left field line. So much for that. I left the seats and spent the rest of the night in standing room only. The good thing about that section is the lack of obstacles other than a few flagpoles and the 100 or so drunk fans who always crowd the front. That's the only place where they can actually see the batter. Here's a view from the front:



As you can see, there's a fairly high wall so when I took just a few steps back, this is what happened to my view:



The good thing about the high wall is that most people are more interested in seeing the game (and having a place to put their beers) than snagging balls so they cram against it; the balls, of course, are more likely to land further back, so although I missed three-quarters of the game, I was at least in a great spot to catch a home run.

Manny struck out in the third, and when he came up in the sixth, there was a young woman with a glove who positioned herself directly in front of me:



Manny ended up flying out to right field, and things never got better for him or for me. If anything, they got worse because the competition kept increasing throughout the night. Manny flied out to right field again in the eighth and popped up to the catcher in the 11th, and by the time he came up in the 13th, this is what I was up against:



I was almost relieved when he grounded harmlessly to 3rd base. Melvin Mora ended up throwing the ball away--one of two 13th-inning throwing errors by the left side of the infield that led to three unearned runs. Final score: Red Sox 5, Orioles 2.

STATS:

• 3 balls at this game

• 122 balls in 15 games this season = 8.1 balls per game.

• 511 consecutive games with at least one ball

• 114 consecutive games outside NYC with at least one ball

• 817 lifetime balls outside NYC

• 3,399 total balls