In 1992, I was sitting in the perfect home run spot out in right field at Yankee Stadium when Kevin Maas ripped a deep line drive in my direction. I jumped out of my seat, raced to the aisle, took a step to my left, and reached up for it. Just as the ball hit my glove, someone slammed me from behind. I flew forward. The ball popped out of my glove. Someone else got it.
When I walked into school the next morning, a bunch of my 9th grade classmates started shouting, "Give an error to the faaaan!! Give an error to the faaaan!!"
They’d seen the game highlights on CBS but didn’t see me get nailed from behind. Neither had Warner Wolf who said, "Give an error to the fan" before describing the rest of the action.
I tried to plead my case, but they wouldn’t hear it.
I say, "Give an error to the sportscaster."
(THE NON-BASEBALL TRAVEL UPDATE, DAY 8: I floated in the Dead Sea…and I mean FLOATED. Thousands of years of evaporation has left the water so salty that I was literally pushed to the surface. (I tasted the water. It’s like the wasabi of salt.) At 1,292 feet below sea level, the Dead Sea is the lowest place on earth. Cool.
I also rode a camel, frolicked under a waterfall, toured the remains of an ancient mountaintop civilization, and had dinner with one of the most prominent rabbis in the world–all after having unintentionally woken up for the day at 2:30am. Would’ve been the perfect time to flick on the tele and look for some baseball.)