It would be an understatement to say that Major League Baseball players have been producing a lot of bad PR lately, what with Barry Bonds' tainted chase of the home run record, Rafael Palmeiro lying to Congress about his steroid use and the shadow that hangs over the game because of performance enhancing drugs. So, as a fan of the game, I felt it was my duty to report on two positive and rather funny stories involving baseball players' interactions with the MOST IMPORTANT participants in the game: The fans.
http://www.aolsportsblog.com/2007/05/14/this-heckler-actually-can-carry-ken-griffeys-jock/
These are only two examples, and I know that for every positive story put out there some disgruntled or jaded fan can come up with another about the player who told them to "F off" when they asked for an autograph, turned out to be a cheater, beat up his wife or didn't pay his taxes. However, it is nice to know that there are some athletes out there who get it and understand how lucky they are to make millions playing a game for a living, and that even the smallest interaction a fan has with them is a memory the fan will have for a lifetime.
As a case in point, after a Red Sox game at Fenway Park in April 1986 my dad and I went over by the players' parking lot in the hope of seeing some of my heroes and maybe getting some autographs. We waited by a chain link fence as the players gradually emerged from the locker room: Jim Rice, Dwight Evans, coach Joe Morgan. Most got in their BMW, Mercedes or Porsche and left without much more interaction than a wave and a smile to the fans.
Just as we were about to leave, outfielder Tony Armas came out and walked over to his Wagoneer, parked just on the other side of the fence from where I was standing with my dad. As he walked up to the car he stopped, pointed to the ground and said to me "Hey kid, there's a ball under my car." At first I was startled that he was talking to me. He said it again and got my attention. Some of the people around me thought he was messing with me and started laughing.
"Come over here," he said, so I walked in and knelt down by his car and carefully scanned the pavement hoping for a souvenir. Sure enough, there was a ball. I grabbed it. "Thanks, Mr. Armas," I said and whipped out my autograph book so he could sign it for me. As if that weren't enough, a few minutes later pitcher Dennis "Oil Can" Boyd came out, gave me an autograph and chatted for several minutes while sitting in his Mercedes with the door open. Coincidentally, we ran into Boyd again later while driving away from Fenway Park as his car ended up in front of ours on Boylston Street.
Though they weren't even among my favorite players on the team, by giving me a few minutes of their time Armas and Boyd each made a fan for life that day. And though they may not realize it, with their recent actions Wells and Griffey did as well.
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