The kindness of strangers

For my birthday, Vicki got us tickets to see the York Revolution play. The team is an independent league team, and the stadium is only a year or two old. Like many minor league parks, the atmosphere is really festive. Lots of silly contests and promotions, which is great for keeping the kids at least sort of interested. When all else fails, there's also a carousel.

Perhaps my favorite promotion was the Velcro wall home run challenge, where one fan agrees to be velcroed to a wall outside the right field fence in the hopes that a ball is hit his way. If he catches it, he gets $5,000.

The coolest thing that didn't involve fabric adhesive was the pre-game catch on the field. Fans are invited into center field to have a catch for 20 minutes or so before the game starts. It was, as you can imagine, pretty awesome. Bright sun, super-springy grass, and Sam throwing heat.

Our seats were right on the left field foul line halfway between third base and the outfield. In any park, that's a pretty good seat. In this one, we were just a row behind the guys in the "bullpen." We were also on the alert for any foul balls slicing our way. [Indeed, I spent a good portion of the game intently watching each pitch for fear of being inattentive and having Jane be forever tattooed (literally and figuratively) as "Janie Foul Ball."]

The opposing team, the Long Island Ducks, were warming up as we took our seats, and so the starting pitcher and catcher were just on the other side of the fence from us. Sam was watching them pretty intently and was impressed by the sound of the pop each time the ball hit the catcher's mitt.

He watched for about five or 10 minutes, only turning his attention when Vicki (and the food) arrived. As he was facing away from the field, the pitcher and catcher finished warming up, and the catcher walked over to our seats, reached through the fence and tapped Samson on the shoulder to give him the ball.

I wish I had a photograph of the look on Sam's face. I have to imagine that ballplayers recognize themselves in young, wide-eyed kids at the ballpark. But I also have to imagine that given the length of the season, the wear and tear on your body, the annoying fans [we had one in our seats when we arrived hectoring the players for autographs], and the prospect that you might never make the big leagues, could turn you a little, well, pessimistic. Or at the very least it could make you aloof since it's really just another day at the office, so to speak.

I don't know anything more about John Pachot than what's stated in his team bio, but I can tell you that his singular act of kindness not only made my son's day, but it made mine as well.