In the 1986 World Series, Bill Buckner of the Boston Red Sox made a crucial error at first base that essentially lost them the title. In the years that followed the unfortunate play was used as a highlight of Red Sox failure, and the curse of the Great Bambino. That stigma stuck until 2004, when the Red Sox finally won a title after 86 years. (Thank you Theo. You curse buster)
After the Sox won, Bill Buckner, who was unfairly abused was invited back to Fenway to throw out the ceremonial first pitch. An emotional Buckner took the field to a standing ovation…
I point to Bill Buckner and the Red Sox example because sometime next year the Chicago Cubs are going to contact Steve Bartman, the poor fan who reached over the field and disrupted Moises Alou during the Cubs 2003 collapse.
Since that day, Steve Bartman has essentially been in hiding. He was wrongfully vilified, destroyed, cursed, and abused by many cubs fans. Hell, the poor guy needed police surveillance in the days that followed. Unfortunately, we saw the ugly side of fandom as an innocent dude who admittedly made a dumb mistake was blamed for 108 years of failure.
So what should Steve do when the Cubs call?
My advice: If I was Steve I would accept the Chicago Cubs invite for the first pitch. I would put on the same damn clothes I wore on the night of the incident and I would embrace it all 100%. I would enjoy the food, the beers, the drinks, and the attention… Then on the day of the pitch I would take the field with a smile and act like the love and reception was truly heartfelt. And finally as I stood on the mound I would put on my headphones, crank some AC/DC “Back In Black”, drop my pants, and drop a hot steaming shit on the rubber with double fist middle fingers to the crowd!
Fuck those people and the way they treated me over the years. If it wasn’t for the championship they would still hate me and 90% of the assholes in the stands would have reached for that ball as well. To be blamed for the Cubs sucking is not on me. It will be the fakest applause, fakest embrace, and fakest apology in human history. So I shit right where it all started. Wrigley Field. Maybe I even paint a goat on an ass cheek or something.