A Devoted Fan

By David Marasco

A while back I was exploring minor league baseball in the Midwest. One stop was a small city with a team a few steps above rookie ball. The crowd was sparse, maybe four or five hundred, but it was a loud, excited bunch.

My seat was right behind the plate, second row. In front of me were a pair of pitchers who were on their off day. They were charting the game and fooling around with a radar gun. Behind me was the loudest fan in the ballpark.

She was an older woman, probably in her late 40's. She wasn't leading cheers, but she was shouting out encouragement to the pitcher on almost every throw. When she felt that the umpire made a bad call, she let him know. Yet, there was something odd about her actions.

While the home team was on defense she was on top of every pitch. But when they were at bat it was if she wasn't even watching the game. She was gabbing about the team, but not about the game. A certain big-name major leaguer came down for injury rehab and was well-liked by his new teammates because he took them out for sandwiches or pizza every day. This allowed them to pocket their meal money. The bus trip on the last road swing was especially brutal. Insider's views of the team no doubt, but nothing to do with what was occuring on the field.

About halfway through the game the home pitcher got whacked by a nasty line drive right back at him. Our favorite fan jumped up and spilled her drink on me. After it became clear that the injury would be nothing worse than a bruise she apologized for making such a mess.

Late in the game the pitcher was pulled for a reliever. The woman quietly packed her things and left. In front of me one of the off-duty pitchers turned to his partner and said in a low voice, "I'm sure glad my mom doesn't come to my games."