Rickey Henderson and the Bears
June 19, 2003
by Michael Walls

I went to a baseball game last night. The Bridgeport Bluefish – our local minor league team in the Atlantic Independent League. My wife and I have been to games before, but this was the first one with our kids.

I grabbed the tickets about a month ago, when it was announced that Rickey Henderson – the 24 year major league veteran, the career runs, walks, and stolen base record holder – was signed by the Newark Bears, and would be playing the Bridgeport Bluefish for a three game series.

Any chance to see a Hall-of-famer play, up-close and personal, for $6 a seat (free for the kids), I’ll take it. Plus, Rickey is fun to watch, especially when he gets on the bases. He’s even more fun to listen to. In interviews, Rickey always refers to himself in the third person, "Rickey’s job is to get on base. And Rickey always needs to steal second, because Rickey can’t score from first."

So, I was pretty excited for the game, and every seat is a good seat at Harbor Yard Ballpark. About 4,000 people came out to see Rickey play (and to cheer on the Bluefish), even though the weather was slightly inclement. We were seated along the third base line about 5 rows behind the Newark Bears dugout.

Joseph, my oldest son (2 ½ years old), is really into baseball and was very excited, but was even more excited at the site of the Metro North commuter trains that kept curving around the entire outfield wall.

"Daddy, choo-choo train, choo-choo train."

"Yeah, Joe, I see the train. But what we’re really looking for is a base hit."

Sammy, son #2 (1 ½ years old), was really interested in the cement stairs and had my wife chasing him up and down the aisles. The crowd in our section really got a kick out of Sammy licking the rainwater off the railings.

Rickey led off the game with a line-out to short, but still hustled like a twenty-year old down to first base. Not bad for a guy 44 years old. In fact, probably better then anybody else on the field.

During the second inning, they introduce Jose Offerman at the plate for the Bluefish. I look up in confusion and ask the guy behind us, "Did they just say Jose Offerman?" He points to the screen, and there he is, Jose Offerman.

Shit. I think Offerman is my second baseman in my Yahoo fantasy league. No wonder he hasn’t been putting up any numbers. Last time I checked he was playing for the Red Sox. He struck out and eventually went 0-3. No wonder.

I decided to take a walk around and brought Joseph with me. Minor league games are fun. It’s a completely different atmosphere then the majors. Aside from the money aspect ($12 for a family of four vs. $60 minimum at Yankee stadium), it’s very community-like and children-friendly. Everyone is polite and enjoying an evening out. Not a lot of hardcore baseball fanatics yelling or drunk college kids throwing peanuts and stuff. Just a family-oriented environment. Almost like a day at the park or fair.

On one side of the ballpark they have a "kids corner," where they have games for the kids, like a "moon-walk" and some slides and a pitching booth. Joseph wants to check it out so we go over. When we get there, Joe want to go into the "moon-walk" thingy, which is a big, enclosed, air mattress, where the kids can jump around. I pay the girl $2 for 5-minutes of moon-walking and take Joseph’s sneakers off. But as I’m shoving him into the small entrance, he changes his mind and starts to freak out.

"Joe, I just spent 2 bucks and took your shoes off, so get it there and start moon-walking."

No good. I put his shoes back on and we’re moving off to something else. At the pitching booth, they have a radar gun set up and a wooden cut-out of a catcher and umpire over a home plate. The catcher has a hole cut out in the middle of his glove. I pay the girl $2 for three baseballs. Joe wants to throw, but I tell him I’m going first. My first pitch misses the catcher altogether and registers 48mph. Damn. For my second pitch I windup and throw as hard as I can and hit the catcher in the head. It registers at 50mph. 50?

"That thing’s gotta be broken," I say to the girl.

I give the last baseball to Joseph and he throws a high "humpback whale" curve ball into the dirt. The radar gun doesn’t even pick it up. "Good throw, Joe. We’ll get ‘em next time."

We get back to our seats and I see my wife is now chasing Sammy up and down some empty rows. I decide to give her a break and hand off Joseph, who is content to sit and eat some animal crackers, while I take Sammy for a walk. But Sammy doesn’t walk too fast, so I just pick him up and carry him. I decide to bring him over to the "kids corner" and see if I can break that 50mph pitch of mine.

As I’m walking around to the first base side, Rickey Henderson comes up to bat in the 4th inning. As usual, Rickey is very patient, taking two balls. On the third pitch, Rickey takes a healthy cut and fouls the ball straight up and to the right. As it starts to curve down, I realize it’s coming straight towards me. I’m holding Sammy and looking up, watching the ball careen over my head as it bounces off the top of a vacant vendor’s booth, ten feet away, over the back railing of the stadium and into the parking lot below.

I go to the railing – just in time to see the ball bounce off the asphalt and nearly miss an illegally parked Buick. It rolls up onto a mulch pile and under a low shrub.

I looked around me and see no one else looking over the rail. I’m the only one who has seen where the ball went.

I stand there for a second, thinking about my options. I could probably go look for it after the game. No one else seemed to have seen it. It is well hidden, so it probably will go undiscovered for a while.

Rickey has taken two more balls and is now trotting down to first base.

Screw it – I’m going out to the parking lot to get it.

I shift Sammy to my other arm and move to the nearest exit. I hustle out the stadium and down the steps and around the corner to the parking lot. The parking lot attendant, a kid, see me coming and smiles. "Looking for that foul ball?"

"Yeah," I say. "Did someone else get it already?"

"Nope. It’s over there somewhere," he points.

"I know where it is."

I see the Buick and step up onto the mulch edging and see the shrub. For a second, I don’t see the ball, but I lean over and there it is. I pick it up and hand it to Sammy. He’s happy.

By the time I get back to our seats, my arms are killing me from carrying my son for so long. My wife looks at me crossly and says, "Where’ve you been? I was starting to get worried."

I hold out the ball, victoriously, and say, loud enough for the surrounding people to hear, "Rickey Henderson’s foul ball."

Joseph is excited about the ball, and I have to keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t hurl it out onto the field.

I wanted to hang out until the end of the game to see if I could get Rickey to sign the ball for me, but the Bears were leading 6-0 after five innings, and the kids were starting to get restless, so we packed it in and headed home.

Today, I see the Newark Bears defeated the Bridgeport Bluefish 8-0 and Rickey Henderson went 2-4 with the double, a walk, an RBI and 2 runs scored. He may not be padding his Hall-of-Fame stats by playing minor league ball, but he has added a souvenir to my son’s bedroom shelf.

(Michael Walls is a volunteer staff writer for 2 Walls Webzine)