Bob Dreizler's Resources: The Foul Ball
The Foul Ball
"The batter stays alive as he fouls off another pitch" one of baseball's clichés. No other sport has an equivalent of the foul ball. Sometimes it's a strike and sometimes it just prolongs the "at bat", but sometimes a ball will fly into the stands and make a difference in one fan's life.
My son, age seven, was lucky - in more ways than one. Ross caught a looping liner into the third base box seats at Candlestick Park. He needed something to keep his spirits up; the next day he was having chemotherapy At Stanford.
We never looked forward to our trips to the Children's' Hospital, especially Ross. Every three weeks for two and a half months we drove the two hours to Palo Alto. After morning tests, his doctor or an intern would puncture his spine with a large syringe, withdraw fluid to test, and then inject him with two powerful medications. Twelve hours of intravenous chemotherapy followed. The resulting nausea made him feel even worse, but this is what we had to do to defeat his opponent, the cancer in his lymph gland.
The San Francisco Giants were playing the Montreal Expos the night before our third Stanford visit, so I bought the best three box seats available. Ross, a fanatic baseball fan, slept in the back seat as Stacey and I drove through sporadic drizzle during the drive from Sacramento. The dampness, the Giant's poor record and their bland opponent, combined to minimize the crowd's size. Paid attendance was 8,000, but there were plenty of vacancies, even in the best seats.
In the fifth inning I went behind home plate to take a picture of Will Clark. Will was on deck when Willie McGee hit a hard, looping foul near our seats. "No way," I thought, and continued toward the backstop. McGee lined a sharp double on the following pitch, and then Dennis Martinez intentionally walked Clark.
As I returned to our seats I sensed something had happened. My first thought was that Ross or Stacey had been hurt, though people were staring at me, all of them were also smiling. Ross stood proudly holding the hardball high above his nearly bald head. Only a seven year old could create such a grin. The ball had glanced off a man at the end of our row, tipped his son's glove, and landed in Ross' mitt.
If I had been sitting next to him, the catch would not have been made. My reflex reaction would have been to protect my wife and son or at least help him catch it. People kept coming up and congratulating him on his great catch. Each wanted to touch the ball, some said they had been to hundreds of games and never caught a foul ball. A head usher also came over and examined the ball with an unknown, but official purpose.The rain never came, the Giants won an exciting game, and we appreciated a quick exit from the parking lot. During the half hour drive to our hotel, the ball seemed to glow and hum in the back seat. The next day, instead of dread, there was a sense of excitement. He showed the ball to cheerful Rolo who chauffeured us between the intimidating MRI machine, the ultrasound test and the bone scan on our frightening first Stanford visit. Ross impressed his friend, Daniel, who was also back for another weekend of chemo. The boys had shared a previous afternoon playing Nintendo while attached to their IV tubes. Ross proudly displayed the ball to the supportive hospital staff members and impressed Dr. Link and Dr. Mogul when they came by on rounds. Later in the day, Stacey used the hardball to rub his sore low back near the injection area.
The power of this ball motivated me to enhance experience. I didn't see the catch, but hoped there might be a tape. The Giant's organization no longer provided such a service, but they did refer me to Jim Scott, with The Phoenix Communications Group in New Jersey. I called Jim and told him our story. Two hours later he phoned my office. He reviewed the tape of the game and saw Willie McGee hit the foul, but the camera didn't follow the ball into the stands.
Though disappointed, I was moved by the efforts of a stranger to make a little boy (and his father) feel better during a very difficult time. He later sent Ross two baseball video tapes that helped us pass some painful hours.
Ross' recovery was quicker than after previous treatments. Perhaps it was the new combination of anti-nausea drugs, but I think part of the credit went to the foul ball. He returned to his second grade class, without missing a day of school. Though most of his hair had fallen out over the weekend, he wasn't bothered; he had a Major League hardball to show off.
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Ross' chemotherapy ended last June. His weight and energy level are back. He returned to second base on his Little League team and finished his season. The lump on his neck melted away and his doctors say there is a 99% likelihood that there will be no recurrence. His pediatric oncologists say he should lead a normal life
My son is looking forward to seeing and playing many more baseball games. Maybe one day he'll hit a ball into the stands and give another kid the kind of thrill that can only come from catching a Major League foul ball.