All the Rage #47

"The convergence of [John] Rocker, Wrigley Field and an unruly crowd makes for psycho theater," wrote Chicago Sun-Times sports columnist Jay Mariotti in a column last week on attending a Cubs night game where the Braves were visiting the Friendly Confines.

"Psycho theater," eh, Jay? Obviously you've never watched any Twin Peaks. Or Salvador Dali's Un Chien Andalou. Or the summer crapbuster Battlefield Earth, for that matter. A drunken Cubs fan heckling a hothead player like Rocker in the late innings of a night game at Wrigley? "Psycho theater"?! Oh, please. I don't know how many of you folks around our globe have noticed, but there's quite the minor shitstorm brewing in Chicago over the stupid antics of a handful of fans at a Dodgers/Cubs game on May 16. During the ninth inning of that game, a fan reached over the wall at Wrigley along the first base line, near the Dodger dugout, and grabbed a player's cap. That outburst led to the Dodgers clearing their own bench INTO THE STANDS to fuel a brawl AGAINST FANS, while the announcer pleaded with the crowd to calm down, or else the Cubs would have to forfeit the game.

I was at that game, and we calmed down, only to watch our beloved Cubbies forfeit the game themselves by stranding a couple men on base in the bottom of the ninth inning. Go Cubs!

Really, the controversy surrounding what is ultimately a lone insane outburst is growing absurd. Now Chicago Alderman Ed Burke is pushing for sporting-event standards to be established for all Chicago teams, a set of guidelines that would require no beer sales until thirty minutes after the game, a "last call" in the fifth inning and much stiffer criminal penalties for fans who attempt to interact with a game in progress. (So if you've harbored hidden dreams to streak Wrigley Field during a game, you better act soon, because if Burke has his way, you might face up to six months in jail and a $1,000 fine for your antics.)

As any rational Chicagoan would concur, there's a lot of crap floating around amid the "good intentions" of everyone involved in this burgeoning travesty. Perhaps the strongest-smelling crap is the issue of misdirected blame, namely all those fingers pointing toward the lanky beer men at Wrigley as the obvious source for all these problems. Of course, even though the May 16 situation involved a perfectly sober professional ballplayer participating in an altercation with a drunken baseball fan, no Dodgers have faced criminal charges in the incident. They've been strictly punished by Major League Baseball, but they weren't carted out of Wrigley in handcuffs, like a few fans were that evening.

So obviously, it must have been the fans' fault, because they started it. Right. That didn't work in fourth grade when I punched a kid in the nose for messing with my winter cap, and it doesn't work now. If you accept that the fans and the players were equally at fault in the May 16 incident, the controversy virtually evaporates. Instead of a wild attack on a baseball player by an inebriated fan, you have an unfortunate event between a drunk guy and a guy with a minor temper-control problem. And it's not the first time a fan has provoked a player into behaving irresponsibly, as Richard Roeper has noted in his own Sun-Times column on the incident. Read that column (but don't close this browser window! Don't leave me just yet!) and then try to embrace the May 16 incident in some kind of context. This should not be a catalyst for punishment; rather, it should be seen as a lone unfortunate outburst amid a sea of fine behavior and fun ballplay. The Cubs don't need to curtail beer sales, and local families don't need to fear drunken rowdies scarring their precious baseball experience when they show up to their one or two games a season.

And any stricter policies at Wrigley regarding beer sales would be a punishment--it would be the rational, responsible citizenry of Chicago acting through their prissy Aldermen to make it harder for those just as rational and just as responsible to enjoy a night out at the ballpark, swigging brew and relaxing with friends. Hell, let's get some numbers on this--let's whip out a breathalyzer and start counting the legally drunk fans at Wrigley by the ninth inning of every night game. Let's watch those numbers stack up against the number of drunk fans involved in the May 16 incident. Let's see just how many tens of thousands attend Cubs games, drink and enjoy their time, then leave without nary an on-field incident.

Without the tipsy heads of the drunkards to pin this incident on, the issue becomes one of security, which is what it should be--and which is maybe what the Cubs organization are avoiding, since it might mean spending more cash to pay a real security force. Why punish fans with stricter policies when maybe the Cubs need to seek out fewer senior citizens and more beefy strongmen as security enforcers, especially in the lower levels of the park? If you've got a 300-pound behemoth to bust some heads the next time a fan outburst gets out of control, I guarantee the next drunken joker will think twice about starting something.

It's funny, too, that throughout all the vapid comments offered on both sides of this issue throughout the controversy, no lip service has been paid to the fans, who seem to have been instantly written off as alcoholic disorderlies. Sure, there are probably a handful of incidents involving drunks at Wrigley every week, which the security force deals with and we never hear about. But the actions of a few must speak for the irresponsibility of the whole, right? No one even wants to point out the insane dedication involved in even attending a Cubs game, where you're just as likely to see some green relief pitcher piss away a five-run lead as you are to see Slammin' Sammy crack one out onto Waveland. One of us was drunk, and one of us attacked a player, so we must all be inebriated jerkoffs.

In addition to attending the May 16 game, I was also at a rained-out afternoon game two days after the brawl. A big group of us from work stood in the bleachers for about an hour in the drizzle, drinking and hoping the rain would end. About ten rows ahead of me were a small group of guys, I'd guess in their early to mid-twenties, also waiting and drinking. To our left, a grade-school group was having a much-anticipated field trip to Wrigley ruined by the bad weather.

Just before we left, I noticed one of the guys in front step up to the group of kids and start talking to them. A security guard immediately followed him and tried to get him to step back, perhaps assuming that a combination of drunk guy and kids might produce something scary. The guy politely told him to step off, and within a few seconds, this guy was leading the kids in a rendition of "Take Me Out to the Ballgame," while rain poured down onto an almost-empty baseball stadium. All of us surrounding fans joined in, and we erupted into wild cheers and high-fives when the tune was over.

It was a sweet moment. It was a Wrigley moment. And just like the fight on May 16, it was fueled by a guy drinking at a ballgame.