April 9th, 2003. My friend Jason and I were at the Tigers game in Detroit. We'd had tickets to the game the day before, but it was cancelled because of weather. Fortunately, the next day was a day game, because we already had tickets for Cleveland that night.
As Jason posed for a picture, a hard line drive sailed right by his head. I was taking the shot, so I'm not exactly sure how close the ball came to actually killing him, but I do know it was smashed — it hit the wall out in right field. That section of the park was empty, so there wasn't much competition, and I was the first one to it. My first major league foul ball!
A bunch of junior high girls swarmed me like I was a celebrity. I guess for a moment, to them, I was. But we didn't have long to celebrate my accomplishment. Jason and I had to drive nearly 200 miles to catch the night game in Cleveland. We left Detroit's game in the 8th and managed to get to our seats in Cleveland before the 2nd inning was over. By "our seats" I mean the ones we snuck into for the game. The ones we'd actually purchased were nowhere near home plate and much more affordable.
With Jason catching a foul ball a few days earlier in Milwaukee, and mine hours earlier in Detroit, we now felt like we had a legitimate chance every time a ball was headed our way. Just an inning after we sat down, one was popped up behind home and coming right at us! It was level with our seats, but about 10-12 feet to our left. The fan there couldn't make the play — it bounced off his hands and headed right toward us. The ball sailed over the aisle, past Jason, and I snatched it up!
Barely over a week into our trip, and there I stood with my 2nd foul ball of the day. I'm pretty sure I'm the only fan to catch a Major League foul ball in two different stadiums, in two different states, in the same calendar day. Where were my middle school fans now?
As this California boy sat there in the freezing weather of the Midwest's storm season, bundled in three pairs of pants, two pairs of socks, three shirts, a jacket, ski mask, beanie, and scarf, I realized something: with all my clothing, I'd forgotten to take the first ball out of my pocket! So even though I looked ridiculous, I held both balls up for a photo inside Jacobs Field. A guy near me had seen me catch the 2nd ball but was skeptical when I told him I'd caught one earlier in the day, too. Later, he overheard us talking about our plans for the next stadiums on the trip and said, "So were you serious about getting the ball in Detroit too? I thought you were just joking around."
Yep, I was.
That was just the beginning of a 5-month journey, where I was basically homeless, traveling the country going to baseball games. My friend Jason and I managed to make it to 17 stadiums in 30 days, and I picked up the other 13 over the next four months. We had some weird weather that year — despite it being spring, the game in Detroit was already our 2nd game cancelled because of snow. Thankfully it was, or I wouldn't have the story of the long-distance double-header. My trip was full of adventure, fun, craziness, and all kinds of baseball, but nothing more noteworthy than my foul ball record in the first week.
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