As I headed to this game with my friend Brandon, I told him that my goal for this entire trip was to snag 20 balls--but perhaps I should've been more optimistic. Good things tend to happen to me at PETCO Park. The last time I was there, I caught Barry Bonds' 724th career home run, and now I was back to be filmed by Steve Smith for San Diego's Channel 10 News.



In case you've forgotten (or are new to this blog), Brandon is the guy who photographed me the day I brought my Big Glove to the Rays-Jays series at Champion Stadium. Thankfully, he likes using his camera more than his baseball glove, so he followed me around the stadium and documented the action.

Moments after the stadium opened, I convinced Padres manager Bud Black to throw me my third ball of the day, and yes, you read that right: third.

Before the stadium had opened, I'd found a way to get inside and snag a couple balls. Rockies pitcher Jeff Francis tossed me the first, and a female security guard hooked me up with the second. That's all I can say. The place I went to is kind of a secret spot--more of a well-guarded secret, really, and the person who shared it with me did so only after I promised not to tell anyone else. Sorry.

Soon after I got the ball from Bud Black, I spotted Heath Bell walking by in right-center field and I shouted, "Heath!!! It's me, the baseball collector, from New York!!!"

Heath looked up and immediately walked over and made his best attempt to shake my hand through the chain link fence. He had gotten to know me when he was an under-appreciated middle reliever with the Mets--and he has remembered me ever since. (One time, while he was still with the Mets, he played catch with me at Shea Stadium. He was on the field. I was in the stands. He even crouched down like a catcher and called balls and strikes. It was awesome. That was also the day Ryan Speier gave me his glove, and you can read about it here. As far as I'm concerned, Heath Bell is BY FAR the nicest major league baseball player.)
 
"What're you doing out here?" he asked as Steve walked up with his camera.

"I'm just going to a few games and hanging out with a friend," I said, "and doing some TV stuff with the local news."

We talked on and off for the next 15 minutes. The only reason it was "off" was because I had to race back from the fence to chase a few more balls. At one point, I got one tossed to me by someone I couldn't identify--until I asked Heath and he told me it was Chad Reineke.

"Did you know I have a new book?" I asked.

Heath said he didn't, so I asked if he had another minute to spare.

"I'm not doing anything right now," he said.

"Cool, wait just a moment," I said. "I have a copy in my bag. I'll run and get it."

I ran back to the first row of the bleachers and grabbed the book, and as I was about to run back, a right-handed batter hit a deep drive toward right-center that I knew had a chance to reach the warning track and bounce over the outfield fence...so I bolted to my left as the few other grown-ups in the section did their best impressions of statues, and finally, as the ball cleared the fence and bounced to the back of the sandy area, everyone started chasing it. The ball ended up hitting a concrete wall and ricocheting back toward the field as I cut across at just the right angle to scoop it up and keep running back to Heath:



Moments later, Heath had the book in his hands:

I bought two tickets to this game the day Ken Griffey Jr. was traded to the White Sox, and it just so happened that he entered this game with 609 career home runs--tied with Sammy Sosa for fifth all time. Jim Thome, meanwhile, with 535 career jacks of his own, also happened to be on the verge of home run history; his next blast would tie him with Mickey Mantle.

When I first bought the tickets, I didn't know who, if anyone, I would take to this game. I'd paid less than their $13 face value on StubHub, so if one of them ended up being unused, it wasn't going to break my heart.

The first person I invited was my dad. We hadn't been to a game together since he saw me snag my 3,000th ball on 5/7/07 at Yankee Stadium, but he couldn't go. He and my mom were planning to be upstate with their car...so I invited my girlfriend Jona, and we rented a Mini Cooper:



If there weren't so many people from New Jersey who read this blog, I might be tempted to make a wise-crack about the license plate, but instead I'll just say that the car was great and added an extra dimension of goodness to the trip.

Jona and I were the fifth and sixth people, respectively, on line outside the Eutaw Street gate. The seventh was a fellow baseball-snagger named Gary (aka "gjk2212" if you read the comments) who'd told me he was going to be there.

Gary and his family didn't have season tickets for this game, so he was trapped in right field for the first half-hour of batting practice. Jona and I *did* have season tickets, and since I was the only fan who ran out to the left field seats, I pretty much had the place to myself for the first three minutes.

I should mention that I didn't take a single photograph during BP. Jona had her camera and did all the documenting for me, starting with the following shot that shows me (in a black T-shirt and tan shorts) standing all by myself, way off in the distance, in the seats in straight-away left field:



Of course there weren't any home runs until half a dozen other grown men had made their way out there, but that didn't stop me from getting off to a good start.

As soon as Jona settled into a seat several rows behind me, she saw me make a leaping catch on a Melvin Mora home run, then grab another Mora homer off the ground soon after.

Several minutes later, I raced down to the wall and leaned way over...



...for a ball that didn't bounce up high enough. Chris Waters, the player in the photo above who's running toward me, retrieved the ball, walked over to the wall, and held it out for me. I thought he was messing around. Hadn't he seen me snag those first two balls? Was he planning to pull his hand back as soon as I reached for this one?

"Are you serious?" I asked, and when he kept standing there without saying a word, I reached out slowly, as if the ball were going to bite me, and lifted it out of his hand.

"Thanks!" I shouted, and he jogged back into shallow left field, again without saying a word.

The good thing about letting my girlfriend take all the photos is that I ended up with some cool shots of myself. The bad thing is that she occasionally pointed her camera elsewhere:



My fourth ball was another home run that I caught on a fly after drifting through my row and jumping. My fifth was a home run that nearly killed Jona and landed on her purse in the seat next to her. (Thankfully, she had the presence of mind not to grab the ball, thus enabling ME to scurry over and grab it and count it in my collection.) My sixth ball was yet another home run (I have no idea who hit these balls). Jona took the following photo just before I caught it:



See the guy wearing the backpack? More on him in a bit...

Just as the White Sox were taking the field at 5:30pm, I changed into my White Sox cap and shirt, and dozens of fans (including Gary) flowed into the left field seats. That's when things slowed way down for me. There were just as many balls being hit and thrown into the stands, but I wasn't on my game, and I wasn't getting any lucky bounces. I kept being one or two steps too late, if not out of position altogether. It was really frustrating because I easily could've ended up with 15 or 20 balls if luck had gone the other way. I still did okay, though. My goal, aside from catching home runs during the game from both Griffey and Thome, was to reach double digits, and it appeared I was on my way.

I used my glove trick to pluck ball No. 7 off the rubberized warning track in left-center and then got another from Octavio Dotel after he finished playing catch near the foul pole. Gary was ten feet to my left and probably would've gotten it if not for me, but I out-wardrobed him. All he had was a cheap, light gray White Sox cap, whereas I had a black cap along with an eye-catching shirt (that you'll see in the next full-screen photo).

At one point, Nick Swisher walked over toward the wall to retrieve a ball, and when I asked him for it, he shouted, "You're a grown MAN!!! You can get balls on your OWN!!!"

Then he tossed it to a little kid. Good for the kid. Bad for me. I knew I had to be creative, so when he chased down another ball five minutes later, I ran down to the wall and yelled, "Nick, I know I'm big and mean and old, but it would mean a lot to get a ball from YOU specifically."

I actually meant it. I'd read all about him in Moneyball and admired him ever since. (Also, it's hard not to like a guy who, as the story goes, was once particularly taken with a hot girl he saw while flipping through the pages of Maxim--or was it FHM?--and told his agent to track her down and then ended up dating her.) Swisher must've appreciated my attempt at being funny and/or sensed my sincerity (or maybe he just felt sorry for me), but whatever it was, what I said to him worked because he flipped me the ball.

"Thanks!" I shouted, "I really appreciate it!"

He turned back, pointed his glove at me, and gave a friendly wink before jogging off.

I must admit that I did experience SOME good luck. Right before the end of BP, I began jogging from my spot in left field toward the 3rd base dugout. I wanted to get there before the White Sox came off the field because I was pretty sure I'd be able to get one more ball there and break double digits. Well, as I was cutting through the seats about 10 rows back along the left field foul line, a right-handed batter swung too soon and hooked a line drive right--and I mean RIGHT--to me. I had to bend down a little and make a thigh-high back-handed catch over the row below me, but still. Wow. And that was it...my 10th ball of the day. Then, as it turned out, I didn't get anything at the dugout.

Remember the guy with the backpack from one of the photos up above? His name is Tobey Rowland, and not only is he a fellow member of the National Scrabble Association--it was my Scrabble shirt that initially caught his eye--but he's a fellow baseball snagger (from the Bay Area) who had tracked me down in 2006 after catching two foul balls on two consecutive pitches. At the time, he wanted to know if that had ever been done and who he could contact to get his story out. I put him in touch with my friend Mark Newman at MLB.com, and this was the result. Anyway, the funny thing is that when Tobey first approached me during BP and started talking about Scrabble, neither of us knew who the other person was.

After BP, Tobey caught up with me behind the 3rd base dugout, and we talked while I labeled my last few baseballs and scribbled down some notes. Here we are (with Gary wearing the yellow shirt in the background):



Four of my 10 balls had distinctive markings and smudges. Check it out:



During the game, there wasn't exactly a whole lot of competition for Griffey:



Only 15,736 tickets had been sold. Among those who bought them and then actually bothered to show up, there was only one person who appeared in the right field standing-room-only section for all of Griffey's (and Thome's) plate appearances. It wasn't Gary, and it wasn't Tobey. It wasn't Jona, nor was it Mrs. Griffey. It was me:



The conditions were perfect for catching a home run, and there WERE five homers in the game, but unfortunately four of them were hit to left field field by righties, and the other was hit to right-center by Aubrey Huff. Griffey ended up going 0-for-1 with three walks, while Thome finished 1-for-4 with two strikeouts. His one hit, however, did get my heart racing. It was a deep line drive EXACTLY in my direction that hit the outfield wall; Thome foolishly tried to stretch it into a double, and future Hall of Famer Nick Markakis (who already had 14 outfield assists before the play) gunned him down at second base.

This was my second straight Watch With Zack game with Mark, Evan, and Hailey--a family from Los Angeles who'd been to Shea Stadium with me the day before.

Evan (age 16) and Hailey (four years younger) had each snagged a commemorative ball at Shea. Now they were hoping to accomplish the same thing at a sold-out Yankees-Red Sox game.



As I've mentioned in previous entries, the bleachers at Yankee Stadium are a) awesome for snagging baseballs during batting practice and b) completely separated from the rest of the ballpark. You can't enter the bleachers without a bleacher ticket, and once you're there, you can't leave.

That said, Evan and I had two tickets apiece--one for the bleachers and another for the main part of the stadium, where we were planning to meet Mark and Hailey after BP. Well before the gates had opened, I gave Mark detailed instructions on how to reach the corner spot in the right field grandstand as quickly as possible. That whole area was going to be insanely crowded; it was essential that he and Hailey get there first and hold their ground.

Evan and I were first in line at the bleacher entrance. When we finally got to run inside, not only did we have the whole place to ourselves for 30 seconds, but we had a great view of Mark and Hailey running in and claiming the corner spot.

Evan claimed a spot against the railing in right-center field, so I gave him some space and positioned myself one section closer to the foul pole. That's when I got the first ball of the day--I'm not saying "my" first ball because it was literally THE first ball that entered the stands. It was thrown by Jose Veras. I had asked him in Spanish. He put some serious velocity on it. I had to jump two inches to make the catch, and when I opened my glove and noticed that the ball was commemorative I felt a bit guilty. That feeling, however, half-disappeared a few minutes later when Veras tossed another commemorative ball to Hailey.
 
I used my glove trick to snag my second ball from the gap between the outfield wall and the bleachers. It was a home run by Derek Jeter that landed there, and as soon as I reeled it in, all my guilt returned. Evan (for some reason) hadn't brought the materials for HIS glove trick, and I realized I could have let him snag that ball with mine. I wasn't too concerned, though, because it was still early, but I grew increasingly anxious as the remaining minutes of the Yankees' portion of BP ticked away. Would the Red Sox be using commemorative balls that belonged to the Evil Empire? Doubtful.

Did Hailey feel guilty when she snagged a second commemorative ball?  Equally doubtful. It had fallen short after being thrown to her by a Yankee, landed in the gap between the bleachers and the grandstand, and gotten tossed up by a police officer who retrieved it.

With 20 minutes remaining before the Sox were going to take the field, I got extremely lucky and snagged my third ball of the day. Brian Bruney had tossed it to a woman in the front row who somehow managed to drop it and let it trickle behind her into the aisle where I was standing. No one else even saw the ball. Even the woman herself hadn't seen it roll behind her, so no one else was reaching for it. It was the easiest and most undeserved ball ever, and of course it was commemorative. The woman, whom I'd met several weeks earlier (and who was very friendly), immediately turned around and asked for it. She said it had been thrown to her, and everyone else agreed. What did I do next? I asked Evan if he wanted it, and when he said "no" (because he hadn't snagged it himself), I handed it to the woman. I hardly ever give away commemorative balls (because it gives me a sinking feeling in my gut), but in this case it was clearly the right thing to do.

The Yankees were beginning their final round of BP, and Evan still didn't have a commemorative ball. He'd come extremely close to snagging an A-Rod homer (and later came close to two other balls), but got a dreadfully unlucky bounce and had to watch it ricochet all the way back onto the field. I felt responsible and awful. The bleachers were more crowded than ever because of the Red Sox, and for some reason there just weren't any other balls dropping into the gap...but then, by some miracle, with five minutes remaining in the Yankees' portion of BP, a ball fell short of the wall in right-center and landed there. Ohmygod. This was our chance, and yet we didn't know if the ball was even commemorative because it was lying logo-side-down. Meanwhile, Evan told me he'd practiced using his glove trick at home but had never tried using it at a game...so I stretched my rubber band over my glove, then propped it open with a blue Sharpie, and handed it to him. I held the end of the string in case he lost his grip, but he had it under control and I talked him through it. He didn't realize he had to aim for the ball with the tip of the glove, and it was hard for him to even see the ball because of a hanging net that's two feet out from the wall. He finally managed to get the ball to stick inside the glove, but because I hadn't put the rubber band on tight enough, the ball slipped out after he'd raised the glove one foot. The good news is that no one else had a ball-retrieving device. The better news is that security didn't notice us. And the best news was that the ball had rolled onto its side, and we could see the edge of a commemorative logo.

I yanked the glove back up, tightened the rubber band, and handed it back to Evan. Then I reached down as far as I could and grabbed the netting and pulled it back so he could get a better view of the ball. (I realize this might be hard to visualize.) The entire operation took a minute after that. I was shouting instructions and encouragement (for example "jiggle the glove a little bit so the ball goes inside!") and eventually he got it. I was afraid someone else would reach over the railing and snatch the ball away from him as he was raising the glove, but no one did, and he HAD it. The ball was nearly brand new. The logo was perfect.

He hurried over to the foul-pole end of the bleachers and called out to his father and sister to show them the ball. I followed close behind and took the following photograph as he was holding it up:



Did you notice Mark and Hailey's reaction? If you look closely (and please forgive the lousy image quality), you can see that he's yelling/cheering and she's giving a thumbs-up:



After the Red Sox took the field, Evan didn't snag any other balls, and I only managed to get one more. It was a home run to right-center by David Ortiz. I was standing at the railing. The ball landed half a dozen rows back and got bobbled into the tunnel, prompting a wave of fans to race after it. I happened to break through to the front of the pack, and I reached down and scooped the ball into my glove while on the run.

After BP, I took a photo of Evan leaning over the gap with his ball, and then I caught up with Hailey in the concourse and took a photo of her with the three--yes, THREE--balls she'd snagged.



Her final ball was tossed by Justin Masterson, and she told me that all the fans around her were complaining that she'd gotten so many. (Too bad, people. Learn to show up earlier.)

This was a Watch With Zack game, and my "clients" were going to be with me for two days. They'd flown in from Los Angeles to see both New York City ballparks for the first time, and their trip kicked off with this Mets-Astros game at Shea Stadium. Here we are before the gates opened:




In case you're new to this blog, I'm the guy on the left. The person (I can't bring myself to call him a "kid" since he's taller than me) on MY left is a 16-year-old named Evan who's been reading this blog for a few years and leaving comments as "evan.bizzz." The other two people are Evan's 12-year-old sister Hailey and their father Mark.

Evan was no stranger to batting practice. He had snagged 41 lifetime balls, but he didn't simply want to pad his numbers on this trip; he was determined, if not flat-out dying, to add a commemorative ball from each stadium to his collection--not an easy task. Hailey, meanwhile, with just a handful of lifetime snags, was still hoping for a commemorative ball but willing to accept any ball that came her way.

Now...
Before I continue, I want to give a shout-out to a kid named Joe--aka "josephfaraguna"--who not only recognized me outside Gate C and took the above photo but was kind enough to let me have the corner spot in the Loge once the stadium opened. There were actually two corner spots on the right field side that I wanted--one for Evan on the Field Level--and another for Hailey and her father upstairs. Each spot was probably going to be good for at least one ball. We just had to GET THERE before anyone else, and thanks to Joe's generosity (plus the fact that we were first on line), we did.

When Shea opened at 4:40pm, I quickly took Evan to the place he needed to be, then hurried upstairs with Hailey and Mark and got them situated. Here they all are:



Hailey told me she didn't know any of the players' names, and I told her it didn't matter--that because she was young AND was basically the only girl in the stadium with a glove, all she had to do was be loud and polite and begin each request by saying "Excuse me."

It was a good day. I didn't set any records, but I definitely milked Shea Stadium for all it was worth.

The happiness started at 4pm when I got off the No. 7 train, started wandering around the ballpark, and happened to run into a small group of fans who had an extra ticket for the picnic area...which they gave to me for free.

Shea opened at 4:40pm, and when batting practice finally got underway 15 minutes later, I positioned myself along the left field foul line. This was the view:



Because Brandon Backe, a right-hander, was going to be pitching for the Astros that night, I figured that the Mets' switch-hitters (Jose Reyes, Argenis Reyes, and Carlos Beltran) would be batting left-handed during BP. I was hoping that one of them (or any of the other lefties on the team) would slap a ball down the line--and that's exactly what happened. I'm pretty sure it was Jose who hit it. The ball plunked onto the grass, 30 feet short of my spot, and then curved sharply (and predictably) into foul territory because of the side-spin. By this point, I had already moved down into the blue seats where I leaned over the low wall for the easy scoop.

That was the only ball I snagged during the Mets' portion of BP.

After the Astros pitchers came out and played catch in left field, I ended up getting a ball from Wandy Rodriguez. And then I got him to sign my ticket:



After the picnic area opened, I raced into the bleachers and got Reggie Abercrombie to toss me my third ball of the day. Five minutes later, I used my glove trick to pluck ball No. 4 off the warning track in left-center.

The bleachers were unbelievably empty throughout BP. I can't explain it. They'd been packed the night before, but on this day, I had the wide aisle all to myself. Check it out:



The other fans were apparently there to WATCH batting practice. A few of them even looked at me funny because I was the only guy running around with a glove. It was a dream come true, but of course there were hardly any other batted balls that reached the seats.

By the time Gate C opened at 4:40pm, the line of fans waiting to get in was longer than I'd ever seen it. (This photo, by the way, only shows the first part of half the line. There were just as many people behind me, snaking off into the distance in the opposite direction.)

During the entire Mets' portion of batting practice, I managed to snag ONE ball. I was in the Loge Level in right field and got Luis Ayala (who didn't recognize me because he was recently traded to the Mets) to toss it up after he finished playing catch. The ball was commemorative, which made me feel good for about 1.6 seconds, and then I went back to being annoyed that my day was off to such a slow start.

At least I got to have a funny conversation with Mets bullpen coach Guy Conti. A bit earlier, when I was standing along the right field foul line on the Field Level, I got his attention by asking if he wanted to play catch.

"I need to warm up my arm," I said.

"So do a lot of these guys," he replied while giving a little nod toward the pitchers. Then he asked, "When does school start back up?"

"I wouldn't know anything about that," I said, "because I graduated from college almost eight years ago."

Conti couldn't believe it. "You look so young!" he shouted.

"Good," I said.

"It IS good," he continued. "Feliciano is always trying to get young girls, but he looks so old. I keep telling him he's got no chance."

"No chance at all," I said, and we both laughed.

Despite the fact that there was an enormous crowd waiting for autographs behind the Mets' dugout, I was able to work my way into the front row just before the whole team came off the field, and I got a ball tossed to me by Mets bench coach Sandy Alomar Sr.

Jona (my girlfriend, in case you're new to this blog) was with me again, and for the second day in a row we were able to get tickets for the picnic area. Once that section opened, I ran out there and immediately grabbed a home run ball, hit by some righty on the Astros, that clanged off the metal flooring.

Fifteen minutes later, I used my glove trick to snag a ball that had dropped into the gap between the bleachers and the outfield wall, and two minutes after that I got Michael Bourn to toss me another.

Ready for the funny photo of the day? It's actually not THAT funny without an explanation, so let me first tell you what happened...

During the final round of BP, another unidentifiable Astros righty launched a deep fly ball 50 feet to my right, at which point I ran through the aisle and jumped as high as I could and made a backhand catch with people all around me. It WAS a nice catch, but considering the fact that most of the other fans were flinching, and that I played college ball, and that I'm still relatively young and fit...I'm sorry but it wasn't THAT incredible. None of the grown-ups were wearing gloves. None of the kids even saw the ball coming. And there was lots of luck involved. If the ball had traveled six inches farther, my white-boy-vertical-leap wouldn't have been enough, so after everyone was done oohing and ahhing and I was walking back to my spot in the middle of the section, Jona happened to capture me with a funny/telling facial expression:



It's like I was thinking, "People. Please. That was easy. You're all fools for thinking otherwise. I had it all the way. Now step aside."

One minute before BP ended, I used my glove trick to snag another ball which I promptly handed to a little girl on my right who (of course) was wearing a glove and hadn't yet snagged one on her own.

Jona and I stayed in the bleachers for the game. At least I think there was a game. I heard later that it was pretty good--that the Mets won, 3-0, behind another strong outing by Johan Santana. I didn't know it at the time because this was my view during most of it:



Seriously, the kids were out of control--or rather the "parents" were out of control for allowing their kids to eat sugar all night and get hyper and run around the aisle nonstop and stand right in front of people who were there, ostensibly, to watch baseball.

STATS:

• 7 balls at this game (five of which were marked with an "H" by the Houston Astros, one of which I gave away)

• 339 balls in 47 games this season = 7.2 balls per game.

• 543 consecutive games with at least one ball

• 330 consecutive games at Shea Stadium with at least one ball

• 3,616 total balls

Jona (the G.F.) joined me for this game, and when we got off the No. 7 train at Shea Stadium, this is what we saw:



Talk about timing! The (ugly) sign for Citi Field was in the process of being put up, and if you look closely at the photo above, you can see the "E" dangling backward as it was being hoisted.

This was my third Watch With Zack game with Clif, a 14-year-old Mets fan who's been reading this blog since last year and leaving comments as "goislanders4." Our first game together was on 9/25/07 at Shea Stadium. The second was on 7/28/08 at Yankee Stadium. His mother Gail couldn't make it to this game, so I picked Clif up at home, then got a tour of his baseball collection...



...and drove him to Philadelphia. (I don't know why Clif decided to wear a Padres hat for the photo above, but I can explain the shirt: the Phillies were going to be playing the Nationals. Clif's favorite player is Nationals center fielder Lastings Milledge and the shirt said "MILLEDGE 44" on the back.) This was the 10th Watch With Zack game I'd done since starting the business last year, but it was the first time that I went with a kid and no one else. I was extra responsible for Clif's well-being, and yet I felt more free than ever to run around for balls and help him do the same. He'd already proven (to both me and his mom) that he knew his way around a major league stadium. He didn't need a babysitter. He just needed someone to GET him to Citizens Bank Park so he could do his thing. Of course, it didn't hurt that that someone was me.

We arrived at the stadium at 3:15pm...



...and got cheesesteaks at McFadden's:



We were the first ones to run inside the stadium when the Ashburn Alley gate opened at 4:35pm. Clif peeled off and headed to the corner spot in center field. I walked over to the foul pole and took a photo of the left field seats:



See the flower bed that separates the seats from the outfield wall? Once BP got underway, I leaned all the way across it (with my knees on the back railing and my elbows on the front) and used my glove trick to snag two balls off the warning track.

Just when I was starting to feel guilty that I had two and Clif had none, he got a ball tossed to him by Shane Victorino.

As the left field seats were getting more crowded, I caught a line drive homer on a fly and snagged another home run ball off the ground--a ball that had initially hit the heel of my glove when an aggressive Phillies fan bumped me from behind. The ball was lopsided. Check it out in the photo on the right. You don't see that too often with "official major league baseballs."

Toward the end of the Phillies' portion of batting practice, Clif and I convened in left-center field, and I caught another home run on a fly. I was about six rows back, and the ball was hit high in the air. I judged it perfectly and drifted down the steps as it descended, and I reached up above half a dozen hands at the last second to make the catch. This was my record-breaking 322nd ball of the season (my previous record was set in 2005) and Clif was excited because he'd gotten a great view.

Clif and I ran out to the seats in right-center when the rest of the stadium opened at 5:35pm. Less than two minutes later, he got his second ball of the day from Nationals pitcher Garrett Mock, and I took a photo as the ball was flying his way. Check it out:



Clif is wearing the dark glove. The ball was thrown right to him. The kid on his left (with the light blond hair) nearly interfered. Good thing Clif was reaching out for the ball instead of standing back and waiting for it.

A little while later, Clif headed over to left-center and got ball No. 3 from Tim Redding. (I'll let Clif share all the details about this and his other balls in a comment.)

The next ball I caught was my sixth of the the day and the 3,600th of my life. I wish I knew who hit it. It was another home run. It was hit by a right-handed batter on the Nationals. I bolted to my right through the empty second row, then realized the ball was tailing back so I darted back to my left and made a two-handed catch right where I'd been standing in the first place. Duh. And it was one of those crappy training balls:



The ball was so slick...it felt like it was made of wax. I really don't understand why teams use these balls. I mean, okay, they're trying to save money, but these balls feel nothing like game balls. If you were a concert pianist, would you practice on a Fisher Price keyboard? If you were a NASCAR driver, would you train by driving a '98 Pontiac? Umm, no, probably not. Therefore, I demand to know: WHY ARE MAJOR LEAGUE PLAYERS USING CHEAP PLASTICKY BASEBALLS?!?! The only theory I can come up with is that if the players are forced to hit inferior balls, they might not try to hit home runs because they'll know the balls won't travel that far. This might make them focus on swinging level and hitting line drives, which ideally would improve their hitting. But it's not. The Nationals are the worst team in baseball, and as of three days ago, they were mired in a losing streak that ended up lasting 12 games.

Collin Balester tossed me my seventh ball of the day--another stupid training ball--in straight away right field, and that was it for BP.

Ten minutes before the game started, two Nationals players began throwing in front of the third base dugout. I asked Clif which end of the dugout he wanted, and he chose the outfield end. It was a good choice because Ronnie Belliard, the older of the two players, was on that end. (The more experienced player usually ends up with the ball.) Sure enough, several minutes later, Belliard flipped the ball to Clif on his way in. I got another action photo:



Did you see the ball? Here's a closer look:



Moments later, two more Nationals came out and started throwing. Clif stayed on his end. I stayed on mine. Ryan Zimmerman, the more experienced player, was closer to me and ended up tossing me the ball.

Poor Clif.

The ball he'd gotten from Belliard was a training ball.
The ball I got from Zimmerman was...



...a thing of beauty. But don't feel too bad for Clif. He'd already gotten one of these balls earlier this season at Nationals Park, and when I offered to give him this one, he wouldn't accept it.

Another reason not to feel bad for Clif is that he got Lastings Milledge to sign his T-shirt. Here's Milledge tossing the shirt back to Clif:



Here's Clif wearing the shirt backwards to show off the signature...



...and here's a closeup of the signature:



As for the game...
Gail had hooked us up by going on StubHub and getting two Diamond Club tickets. The club itself is pretty lame. It's just a big, over-fancy restaurant tucked underneath the concourse behind home plate, but the seats themselves were IDEAL for chasing foul balls. Seriously, just look at this view from the first-base side of home plate:



It's truly impossible to sneak down to this section without a ticket. When you first arrive, there's a pair of ushers (at the bottom of each of the two staircases) who make SURE you belong. The first guy checks your ticket and punches a hole in it, and the second guy gives you a wristband that you have to wear for the rest of the night. There's no way to take off the wristband and give it to someone else. The only way to take it off is to rip it off, and get this...the color of the band changes from game to game, and the date of the game is printed right on it:



I'm telling you, the ushers guard this section as if their lives depend on it. On 4/25/07 at Citizens Bank Park, I got to explore the Diamond Club before the game because I had media credentials for a TV segment I was being filmed for, but once the game started, I got kicked out. I was stunned. This was my 15th game ever at Citizens Bank Park, and it was the first time I'd ever been in this section during the game, but of course, since I'm jinxed, there wasn't a single foul ball hit anywhere near me all night. Amazing. But it was still fun to roam and hope.

Clif spent the first few innings going for third-out balls behind the Nationals' dugout, and it paid off in a BIG way. Phillies catcher Chris Coste flied out to center field to end the bottom of the second. Who was playing center field for the Nationals? That's right: Lastings Milledge. From my spot behind home plate, I could see Clif work his way down to the front row as soon as the catch was made, and eventually I saw Milledge flip the ball in Clif's direction. But there were a bunch of other kids, and I couldn't tell who had gotten it. I immediately called Clif on his cell phone. His voice-mail picked up. He was trying to call me. I answered and asked if he'd gotten the ball. He had! WOOO!!! Go Clif!!! How awesome is that?! Getting a game-used ball tossed to you by your favorite player?! Damn. I wish I could take credit and say that Clif couldn't have done it without me--and perhaps he wouldn't have if I hadn't gone to this game with him--but he deserves all the credit. He knew what to do, and he made it happen. I was proud of him and very excited.

Clif and I were rooting for the Nationals all the way, but they blew a 4-1 lead and ended up losing, 5-4. I figured the best shot of getting a post-game ball was from the home plate umpire on the Nationals' side, so I let Clif go for that. I went to the Phillies' dugout and didn't expect to get anything because it was so crowded and noisy, but as it turned out, Clif wasn't able to make it all the way down to the front row to even ask the umpire for a ball, and I happened to get Brad Lidge to toss me the game-ending ball. Sweet! It was THE ball he had used to record his 31st save of the season and the 154th of his career (not to mention his 631st career strikeout). It felt good.

Once again, I offered to give that ball (and others) to Clif, but he wouldn't take it. He had his collection. He knew I had mine. And that was that.



STATS:

• 9 balls at this game

• 326 balls in 45 games this season = 7.2 balls per game.

• 541 consecutive games with at least one ball

• 132 consecutive games outside of New York with at least one ball

• 10 consecutive Watch With Zack games with at least two balls

• 3,603 total balls

I went to Citizens Bank Park two days ago. It was fun. I still haven't had a chance to start blogging about it. I'm leaving for Shea Stadium in three hours. I'm going to try to get into the picnic area again. I plan to be there every day through Saturday if the weather stays nice, so look for me on any home runs to left or left-center. Did I mention that I booked a trip to California? I'm leaving one week from today. I'll be at PETCO Park on August 29th (where I'll be filmed for Channel 10 News), Angel Stadium on August 30th, PETCO again on August 31st (for a day game...yuck), and Dodger Stadium on September 1st and 2nd. I've been reading all the comments on this blog, but I haven't yet had a chance to respond. I'm way behind on my emails as well. Sorry if I'm keeping you waiting for a response. Things are just really crazy. Last piece of news for now: I have a radio interview tomorrow morning at 11:30am ET on Springfield, Missouri's KWTO-FM Jock 98.7. The show is called "Sports Reporters." The hosts are Ned Reynolds and Scott Puryear. You can listen online by clicking here, so check it out if you can. More soon...

I'm in the process of getting cheated by an online ticket broker. I'm trying to fight back, and I want to share my story so it doesn't happen to you...

It all started before my trip to Pittsburgh last week. I'd heard that PNC Park opened half an hour earlier for season ticket holders, so I basically needed to get a hold of season tickets for the two games I was going to be there--NOT those awful print-at-home tickets or box office tickets.

I thought about using StubHub--I'd ordered from them a dozen times and never had a problem--but I needed to make SURE that the tickets I got were season tickets. I needed to find a ticket broker who could actually see the tickets I was going to buy and confirm on the phone that they were indeed season tickets.

I went online. Did a Google search. Found a few ticket brokers. Called a company called Coast to Coast Tickets and told the sales rep what I needed: one season ticket for the game on August 12th and two season tickets for the game on August 13th. After some initial confusion on his part about what a "season ticket" actually was, he told me that he WOULD be able to fulfill my request. It was going to cost a lot of money--$62.48 for the first game and $104.96 for the second--but I decided it was worth it.

I told the sales rep that I absolutely NEEDED to get the tickets by August 11th because I was going to be leaving first thing in the morning on the 12th.

"No problem," he said.

Then I asked if all three tickets could be shipped together. That way, I explained, I wouldn't have to pay two FedEx shipping fees. At first the sales rep said no. Then he called back five minutes later and said yes.

Excellent!

But wait. I got a call from another sales rep half an hour later and was told that there was no guarantee that the tickets would be season tickets.

"In that case," I said, "I need to cancel the order."

I had to explain (once again) why I needed season tickets, and then the order was canceled...or so I was told.

I immediately went on craigslist, posted an ad, and later heard from a Pirates season ticket holder who said he'd meet me outside the stadium on August 12th and hook me up with season tickets (which he did...sort of).

Fast-forward to August 14th. I got home from Pittsburgh, and what did I see? Two FedEx envelopes containing printed-at-home Pittsburgh Pirates tickets.

Wow.

I called Coast to Coast Tickets and explained the error and asked for a refund. They said they had nothing to do with it and told me to contact a company called Northside Tickets. Northside, I was told, was the company that actually processed my "order" and charged my credit card and mailed the tickets. I took another look at the FedEx label, and sure enough, it said "Northside Tickets."

I called Northside. They said I had to take it up with Coast to Coast. I called Coast to Coast again. They said I had to take it up with Northside. I asked to speak to a manager. I was told that the manager had to review the paper work and that she'd call me back within a few minutes.

She never called.

I called back two hours later. (This is Coast to Coast Tickets we're talking about.) I asked for the manager. The manager was unavailable...so I got lectured (again) by the sales rep about the company's terms and policies and how all sales are final.

"You don't understand!" I said. "There never should've BEEN a sale!"

"Well, sir, you'll have to take that up with Northside Tickets."

I threatened to report them to the Better Business Bureau. Then I threatened to write a big blog entry for my "thousands of readers" about how they sucked. (During the baseball season, I do actually get several thousand hits per day...sometimes.)

Where do we stand?

I've already filed an official complaint with the BBB, and this is the blog entry. (Duh.)

Coast to Coast Tickets sucks. Don't EVER use them. Don't use Northside Tickets either. I'm not sure how responsible they are, but I can tell you that the confusion definitely started with Coast to Coast because that's who I called first.

Earlier today, I called my credit card company to dispute the charges. The "investigation" could take 30 to 90 days, so this will be an ongoing fight.

The End.

My girlfriend Jona attended this game...



...and wandered around the stadium with me before the gates opened. There was a lot to see. Check out the four-part pic below. Starting on the top left and going clockwise, you can see 1) the view of PNC Park from the middle of the bridge, 2) the steps leading down to the water, 3) kayaks for rent, and 4) the promenade behind the right field edge of the stadium (where balls hardly ever land):



Jona and I had lots of time to kill (which was the point), so we had to find various ways to spend it. In the four-part pic below...1) we're posing with the home plate gate in the background, 2) I'm trying to look mean after Jona tied a bandana around my head in the team store, 3) I'm being overwhelmed by gravitational force, and 4) Jona is inspecting the Willie Stargell statue (no disrespect intended):



Speaking of the home plate gate, here's a closer look:



Nothing special, right? Well, here's an even closer look:



I know the Pirates haven't had a winning season since 1992, and I know attendance is sagging to the point that PNC Park resembles a ghost town, but c'mon, this is ridiculous. I've only seen spider webs in one other major league stadium. Anyone want to guess where?

By the time the center field gate opened at 5pm, there were dozens of people waiting on line. I raced inside ahead of all of them and snapped a quick photograph of the bleachers while I still had the place to myself...



...and then handed the camera to Jona. Check out this cool shot she took of me at the start of BP:



I only snagged one ball during the 13 minutes that the Pirates were on the field. It rolled to the wall in straight-away left field, and I got it with the glove trick as Jeff Karstens was walking over to pick it up. He easily could've snatched it, but instead he walked back to his spot in the outfield and watched with several of his teammates. Then, at the last second, as I was lifting my glove with the ball tucked firmly inside, another ball came flying out of nowhere and thumped off the padded wall below. It had missed my glove by inches and made me flinch. I looked up and Karstens was grinning.

"Nice try!" I yelled. I got the sense that he was just being playful--that even if he'd knocked the ball out of my glove he would've given it to me--so I added, "Thanks for letting me get it!"

Karstens responded with a subtle wave, and that was that.

Chris Dickerson (who picked up his first major league hit the night before) was the first player to take the field for the Reds. As he was back-peddling to his spot in left field, a left-handed batter sliced a line drive right at him. Dickerson half-heartedly reached for it and somehow missed it, allowing the ball to tip off the side of his glove and roll all the way to the warning track. I used the glove trick to snag this one as well, and Jona snapped a few quick pics of me in action:



In the pic on the left, I was making sure the rubber band wasn't too tight or too loose. In the middle pic, I had just knocked the ball closer, and in the pic on the right, I had just gotten the ball to stick inside the glove.

I forgot to mention that as soon as the Reds took the field, I'd changed into my Reds outfit. Pretty convincing, eh?



I snagged three more balls during the remaining 45 minutes of BP. The first was thrown (right to me over several rows of Pirates fans) by Jerry Hairston in left-center field. The second was a fungo hit by coach Billy Hatcher, and I made a web-gem-type catch. I immediately judged that the ball was going to sail five to ten feet over my head so I climbed up on a bench, took my eye off the ball briefly as I stepped onto the bench in the next row, then turned back toward the field and spotted the ball flying toward me...and jumped and lunged and made an over-the-shoulder catch high above my head the in the tip of my glove...with the sun in my eyes. It felt great. And as for the last BP ball I snagged...I got it with the glove trick and immediately handed it to the kid on my left.

I made it to the Reds' dugout one minute before BP ended and got my sixth ball of the day tossed by the equipment manager. Then, with nearly an hour to spare before the first pitch, Jona and I headed to the upper deck:



We wandered and I took photos from every possible angle...



...and ended up behind home plate where I took some pics for my traditional/cheap panorama:



As much as I was complaining in my previous entry about PNC Park not being all that exciting, I have to say that it really is a gorgeous stadium. When Jona and I made it back down to the field level, even the concourse behind/below the left field seats caught my eye:



Concourses aren't the most exciting things in the world--I will acknowledge that--but having suffered for the last 20 years inside the cramped and dingy concourses of the New York City stadiums, I had to take a moment to appreciate the spaciousness and cleanliness and architectural design of this one in Pittsburgh.

This was the second game I'd ever attended at PNC Park. The first was seven years ago, and I don't remember much. I know I snagged seven balls that day, but I didn't have a blog or a digital camera back then so it's almost like it never happened.

Anyway, THIS day started with four crappy hours of sleep and continued with a seven-hour drive from New York City, a confusing check-in at the Holiday Inn Not-Express, and an interminable wait for a taxi to the stadium. By the time I made it there, half a dozen people were already waiting on line at the center field gate so my picture-taking was going to have to wait one more day.

PNC Park opens two hours early for season ticket holders and 90 minutes early for everyone else. Long story short: I was stressed out of my skull but ended up getting inside two hours early. This is what it looked like in the left field bleachers:



I used the glove trick to snag my first ball of the day in straight-away left field as Ian Snell was coming over to retrieve it. He was amused.

My second ball was a home run that I caught on a fly after ranging 30 feet to my left through a long, narrow row between the benches. If my friend Brian (aka "puckcollector" in the comments section) hadn't told me to bring sunglasses, there's no way I would've caught this ball. The sun was absolutely brutal. I had to look right at it whenever a ball was hit in the air, so I'm officially passing along Brian's advice to all of you: BRING SUNGLASSES if you're going to PNC Park. Trust me.

I hate weekend games. They're too crowded, and there are always a million kids. The only thing that made THIS weekend game tolerable--the only reason why I went in the first place--was the fact that I had access to the left field bleachers, aka "the picnic area."

The bleachers are normally reserved for groups of 100 or more fans. Therefore, it's almost impossible to get in, but once you make it there...not only is it great for snagging baseballs during batting practice, but you're allowed to wander back into the main part of the stadium at any time. In fact, you're even allowed to enter the main part of the stadium when it opens at 4:40pm--a very good thing because the bleachers don't open until 5:40.

During that first hour...



...I managed to snag exactly ONE ball. It was a pretty good ball, though, I have to say. It had a commemorative logo (pictured here on the left), and it was thrown by Johan Santana after he finished playing catch.

The right field Loge was dead. There were no opportunities to use the glove trick. The front row in the Field Level was packed. There was a mob at the Mets' dugout. There was literally no place to go so I headed up to the left field Loge, just for the hell of it...just to kill the remaining minutes before the picnic area opened. Nothing there either. But I did get to meet a guy named Erik who's been reading this blog for a while. (Erik recently left his first comment as "nysetrader76" and you can find it here.) We chatted for a minute, and when I mentioned that I had a picnic area ticket, he told me that he'd seen a ball drop into the gap between the outfield wall and the bleachers. I probably would've discovered this ball on my own shortly after entering the section, but it was great to have this information in advance. My friend Greg (aka "gregorybarasch") was at this game, and he also had a picnic area ticket. Although we agreed to share the balls that dropped into the gap (as we had done on 7/29/08 at Yankee Stadium), we were still going to be competing somewhat. The first ball would be up for grabs, and there was no guarantee there'd be any others after that. In addition, fans and employees were sometimes able to go underneath the bleachers and climb fences and get into the gaps and grab those baseballs, so I was going to have to act fast.

Finally, the bleachers opened and I ran inside and peeked into the gap (just to the left of the "B" on the Bud Light ad on the outfield wall). This is what I saw:



I set up my glove trick and feared that it would be tough to use with all the weeds and pieces of trash surrounding the ball...but it wasn't. I had my second ball of the day, and Greg was nowhere to be found. I think he was still in the main part of the stadium trying to exploit the Marlins' pitching staff. I don't know. All that mattered was that he still wasn't there when another ball dropped into the gap at the center-field end of the bleachers. If he'd been there, I would've let him get it, and if I knew no one else could've gotten it, I might've even left it there for him (because I'm that kinda guy), but it was too risky. I had to go for it. And I did. And I quickly had my third ball of the day.

I decided to bring my big glove to one game at Shea Stadium, and this was it...



By the time Gate C opened at 4:40pm, there must've been over 500 people waiting to get in including a guy named Sammy Wu who'd been leaving comments on this blog since July 2007. In fact...hold on...I have his first comment right here:

"Hey Zack, It is the first time I post on your blog. I accidentally stumbled on your blog and I LOVE IT. I have learned so much about baseball and am totally amazed by your glove trick. I attend ball games alot and love to collect autographes. I tried the trick yesterday at Angel Stadium and I snagged 2 balls! Also, I love your book "How to Snag ML baseballs." At first I couldn't find it on amazon, ebay or just about any places on web. Good thing is that I used Google book search it is avaliable in my local library~I actually applied for library card just to rent your book!!! THANK YOU ZACK, YOU ARE MY ROLE MODEL and the video is very cool, too!!!!!"

This was the first time Sammy and I had ever met in person. He had finally made the trip from California, and one of his goals was to snag a commemorative ball. More on this in a bit...

As soon as I ran inside and headed out to the seats along the right field foul line, a few of the Mets (all of whom were stretching) noticed me and started pointing me out to their teammates. Ten seconds later, everyone on the team was staring at me and smiling, and ten seconds after that, bullpen catcher Dave Racaniello tossed me a ball from about 100 feet away. It was a standard ball. Bleh. And to make matters worse, everyone on the team saw me catch it. I figured it was the one and only ball I'd get from the Mets all day.

Moments later, Oliver Perez got up and started walking toward me and waving me down to the front row. He wanted the glove, so I handed it to an on-field security guard who handed it to him. Perez then went back to his spot in right field and posed with it:



Pedro Feliciano tried it on:



Then Johan Santana checked it out...



...and held it up over his face as if he was looking at the catcher while getting the sign:



Every time another player tried on my glove, I asked if I could try on HIS, but no one went for it. That was kinda lame. It's not like I could've run off with anyone's equipment. There were ushers and security guards all over the place, but whatever. I was having fun just taking pictures, and I had my regular glove ready just in case.

Perez finally walked back over with the big glove, and I snapped the following photo right before he tossed it to me:



One minute later, Duaner Sanchez came over and got the big glove, then took it into right field and actually played catch with it for a couple minutes:



In the four-part photo up above, did you notice the camera man in the pic on the upper left? He had walked out from the area in front of the dugout as soon as he spotted the big glove.

QUESTION: What did this game have in common with 9/14/05 at Shea Stadium, 7/24/07 at Citizens Bank Park, and 9/5/07 at Yankee Stadium?

ANSWER: I was there with my mom.



This game ended up being the Phillies' 35th sellout of the season, and we hadn't bought tickets in advance, so when we arrived at the ticket windows nearly four hours before game time, the best we could buy were obstructed-view seats behind the right field foul pole in the upper deck.

Didn't matter.
We never went up there.

By 3:45pm, we were waiting outside the Ashburn Alley gate in left field, and by four o'clock I got my first "Are you Zack Hample?" of the day.

It was a guy named Ethan who'd been reading this blog for years and leaving comments as "dodgerdude." This was the first time we'd ever met in person. He was there with his friend Paul, and my mom took a picture of the three of us. (Ethan is on the right.)

I left New York City at 10:30am, blasted my iPod in the car the whole way up, got stuck in traffic half a dozen times, and finally parked in the garage behind the Green Monster at around 3pm. As soon as I walked down the garage ramp onto Lansdowne Street, a college-aged Red Sox fan walked up to me and asked if I was Zack Hample.

In my previous entry, I had mentioned that I was going to be there, and sure enough, this guy had seen it. His name is Garo. He's a semi-regular at Fenway Park. And the first thing he did was show me how to get a sneak peek inside the stadium. Check it out:


There's a new restaurant/bar tucked underneath the seats in center field. (The entrance is right on Lansdowne.) This was it. Pretty simple.

Fenway wasn't going to open until 5pm, so when the Red Sox started taking batting practice at 4:30, Garo (wearing the red shirt in the photo on the right) and I went to the roof of the garage and camped out for home run balls. Of course nothing came over, so at 4:55 I left empty-handed and ran over to Gate A.

This was another Watch With Zack game--my second of the week and fourth of the season--and my clients still had not arrived at that point. They were from Tallahassee and included two 13-year-olds named Lars and Cody, as well as Lars' grandmother Jean who had gotten in touch last year after hearing me on NPR. Even though we'd planned this game months in advance, they waited until the last minute to make an appearance. Lars and Cody had the basics--baseball gloves and Red Sox caps--but we didn't have time to discuss any specific strategies for BP. All I could do was give them each a sheet with the rosters of both the Sox and A's and tell them to follow me as soon as everyone was allowed in. With 30 seconds to spare, I asked them how many games they'd been to. Lars said he'd been to "one or two" major league games, and as for Cody...this was his first professional game! What a way to start. (Jean said she'd been to about 50 games, going back to the days of the Milwaukee Braves. And by the way, if there's anyone from Tallahassee who's reading this, or even anyone who'd just like to talk baseball in general, Jean would love to hear from you. Leave a comment and let me know, or email me and I'll put you in touch.)

When the stadium opened, several dozen fans got in ahead of us, but we were still the first ones to reach the seats along the left field foul line. Sweeeet!!! I grabbed the corner spot and positioned Lars and Cody about 20 feet apart against the wall in the middle of the section. You can kinda/almost see them leaning out with their gloves in the following photo:






Here's a close-up. Cody is the one wearing blue, and Lars is in black:





Once the A's took the field, I told Lars and Cody to turn their hats backward so the players wouldn't see the logo. (I think Cody turned the logo toward me just for the photo and then quickly switched it back.) This simple form of trickery worked for Lars; he used the roster to identify pitcher Lenny DiNardo and then got him to toss up a ball. Cody, on the other hand, wasn't as lucky. He had a few close calls during BP but didn't end up with anything to show for it.

As for me...
Two minutes after the stadium had opened, Justin Masterson tossed a ball to a kid ten feet away, but his aim was off and the ball sailed high and landed in a patch of empty seats. There was a mini-scramble for the souvenir, which I ended up snagging as it trickled down the steps...and yes, I felt a bit guilty. Under normal circumstances, I would've handed this ball to the kid for whom it was intended. But this day was special. I had my own "kids" to take care of, so I held onto it, and as it turned out Masterson went and got another ball and hooked up the original kid. Everyone was happy.

Before the Sox finished hitting, I got a second ball by using what I refer to as the "half-glove trick." I didn't need the rubber band and magic marker. I only needed the string because the ball was just a few feet out from the wall...in a spot where the wall was nice and low...so I let out a bit of string and swung my glove out and knocked the ball closer and then leaned over the wall and grabbed it. Easy.

Despite the fact that I had a green and yellow A's shirt to match my green and yellow cap, I couldn't get a single player or coach to toss me a ball. I partially blame myself for not being able to recognize anyone, but seriously...Joey Devine? Dallas Braden? Sean Gallagher? Jerry Blevins? Who the hell ARE these guys?!

I managed to get one more ball during BP. It was a rocket-shot, pulled on one hop a few feet to my left. I wish the fan behind me had been holding a radar gun. I'd say it had to be traveling 80 to 90mph. Maybe even more. According to Hit Tracker, some balls fly off the bat in excess of 120mph, so there's no telling how fast this one was traveling. I was about 200 feet from home plate, and it couldn't have taken more than a second to reach me. Anyway, I half-dove and half-lunged over the wall and reached way out and half-snared the ball between my upper palm and the pocket of my glove. Yes...ouch. But I had it and that's all that mattered. Between the ball that Lars snagged and the three that I got, there was exactly one ball for each of us.

After BP, Cody and Lars and I each got an autograph from Greg Smith...



Then Jean joined us and we posed with our loot: