After a woman shrieked at a father and son for nabbing a homerun ball and ended up walking away with the ball, the Marlins and Phillies made it up to them.
The Phillies fan moment from last weekend has torn its way across the Internet faster than Lou Brock swiping second base.
If you haven't seen it, the video is above.
In short, a homerun ball in the Marlins' stadium landed in an empty stretch of seating. A woman scrambled toward it from the row behind, while a man sitting further down the row ran to grab it. He ended up with it, giving it to his son, whose birthday was a few days away.
But the woman came back and shrieked at him, so the father gave her the ball to make her go away. Later in the game, the Marlins gave the boy a gift bag of goodies. And afterward, former Cardinal Harrison Bader (I still miss him) gave the boy a signed bat.
A viral video, and a day that boy will remember forever!
The whole incident reminded me of a similar experience I had at Busch Stadium earlier this year.
It was a hot afternoon game on August 13, and our struggling redbirds were trying mightily to beat the most abysmal team in baseball (the Rockies). We had fantastic seats — the home field box, a little to the left of home plate. I picked it, knowing it would be foul ball territory. But by the second inning the hot sun was threatening to cook us, so my boys and I moved into some empty seats a few rows back, into the shade from the deck above.
Then, around the 6th inning, the foul ball came.
It bounced off the front of the deck above, and — to my surprise — landed among empty seats in the row right in front of us. As I sprang forward, stepping on a seat to reach down and snatch the ball, a man in that row darted over and grabbed it before me.
So close!
But I know the rules of homers and foul balls: fair's fair. Whoever can grab it gets to keep it. That guy got to the ball first, and he deserved it.
I sat back in my seat a little sheepishly, wishing I had reacted more quickly, and glancing at the man who was now examining the ball and talking happily about it with his companions.
Suddenly, something happened.
The man was moving toward us.
His arm outstretched, he offered the baseball.
"Give it to one of the kids," he said. He knew how much a foul ball means to a kid. And he knew something even more important: our actions — especially around children — endure longer and matter far more than any foul ball gathering dust on a shelf.
We had all agreed before the game that if we caught a foul ball, it would go to the littlest, my four-year-old Oliver, whose birthday was just a few weeks away. Amazed, we thanked this Cardinals fan, and handed the ball to Oliver.
He was enthralled. And I was encouraged: even in a tough year (we lost the game), nothing beats Cardinals Nation.
My sons smile with a foul ball generously gifted by a Cardinals fan nearby.
