Pursuing foul balls an inexact science

The task of an American writer is not to describe the misgivings of a woman taken in adultery as she looks out of a window at the rain but to describe four hundred people under the lights reaching for a foul ball. This is ceremony.

-- John Cheever

The odds of catching a foul ball at a major league ballgame are roughly 776-1, according to data accumulated by Funk, Wagnalls and Bill "Spaceman" Lee.

The odds of a grown man being called a dork for bringing his glove to a minor league ballgame in a misguided attempt to catch a foul ball are roughly 1-3.

I did not come close to catching a foul ball Monday at Cashman Field.

I did not come close to making a spectacular catch on the concourse or the mezzanine that would do Torii Hunter proud and then hold the ball aloft for TV cameras that do not exist.

I did not come close to realizing the thrill my father experienced in 1967 when he outhustled another man in the upper deck of old Comiskey Park for a long drive off the bat of the Angels' Jim Fregosi that had twisted foul, as the announcers like to say, before handing it to his son, so he could hold it and examine it for the league president's signature and scuff marks and to grip it along the seams and make elaborate curveball motions.

But judging from the looks of ridicule on the faces of the other spectators, I came close to being called a dork.

Before setting off for the ballyard Monday, I had downloaded a seating chart of Cashman Field. My plan was to mark with an "X" every spot where a foul ball landed, thinking a foul ball scouting report would enhance my chances of snagging one.

To my surprise, I was not the only one who had brought his glove to the ballpark. But to the 9- and 10-year-olds who had brought theirs, I must have looked like Honus Wagner.

I found only one other big kid, in Section 21 down the right-field line, who had brought his glove. Jeff Hemming, 19, had a black first baseman's mitt roughly the size of jai alai cesta hanging from his left wrist. Hemming said he once caught a foul ball on the fly at a Lancaster JetHawks game, to which I replied "Big deal. Anybody can catch a foul ball at a Class-A game."

(If truth be told, I feared the presence of Hemming and his jai alai cesta would make it darn near impossible to snag a foul ball in this part of the ballpark. So I headed toward the Steve Bartman seats on the other side of the stadium, because my foul ball chart indicated this was the place to be.)

There were 31 batted balls that cleared the confines of the diamond and one that 51s third baseman Brett Lawrie wished had landed in the stands, instead of a few feet in front of the third-base dugout. Lawrie lost that one in the sun and it led to three Tacoma runs in the third. But the way Lawrie's been hitting, one doesn't make a big deal out of things such as foul pop flies lost in the sun.

There was also one batted ball that cleared the confines of the diamond and landed in fair territory, around 390 feet from home plate, courtesy of the Rainiers' Mike Carp. But balls hit that far are to be admired, not collected.

According to my chart, 11 foul balls were hit into the stands on the third-base side, seven on the first-base side. Ten landed on or over the roof of the press box/restaurant, and two landed on the grassy knolls in the outfield corners.

I was standing alongside Hemming when he took a step in the direction toward the ball one of the Rainiers with big forearms had planted on the outfield berm that was closed to spectators. Gruff-but-lovable Jimmy the security guard barked, "Don't EVEN think about it."

So if you are keen on catching a foul ball at Cashman Field, you might want to stay out of Jimmy the security guard's section. Also, if you are sitting on the first-base side when Tacoma's Sean Kazmar is batting, you might want to look alive. The former College of Southern Nevada star lined one into the bleachers in the top of the seventh that would have severed heads, had heads gotten in the way.

One more thing: Don't pound your fist into the pocket of your glove, thinking it might expedite a ball being hit in your direction. It won't. I tried it until the bottom of the eighth. You'll be better off going for peanuts and Cracker Jack until Ryan Budde bats.

If Abe Froman is the Sausage King of Chicago, then Ryan Budde is the Foul Ball King of Las Vegas. During one magnificent exhibition in the third inning Monday, the 51s catcher turned four pitches into souvenirs with the last one -- get this -- bouncing into the men's room along the first-base line.

Forget, for a moment, the .167 batting average. This man Budde is an absolute foul ball artiste.

"The Shot Heard 'Round the Urinal" was retrieved by 14-year-old Nick Fiumara, and yes, I had to ask. When the ball came crashing into the men's room, young Nick said he was washing his hands.

Rule No. 1 for increasing one's odds to catch a foul ball:

Practice good personal hygiene.

Las Vegas Review-Journal sports columnist Ron Kantowski can be reached at rkantowski@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0352. Follow him on Twitter: @ronkantowski.