The Independent – June 29, 2017
They come from every direction, weaving around beach chairs, bleachers and startled fans just trying to walk back to their seat with a hot dog, sprinting faster than their base-stealing heroes, converging on the prize in the parking lot or the grass or the woods.
There’s a foul ball up for grabs, and the quest is not for the faint of heart.
The strategy?
“Run fast,” said frequent chaser Ben Brown.
They do.
The scene plays out 20 or 30 times a night when the Ocean State Waves are home at Old Mountain Field. Pride and souvenirs are at stake, but cash is, too, for the veteran chasers who already have a collection. The Waves started handing out a dollar in exchange for the return of a foul ball a few years ago and introduced a sponsorship this season – Fetch That Foul Ball is brought to you by Wakefield pet supply store Benny and Jack.
“You’ve seen some unique ways to get some of the balls back,” said Waves president and general manager Matt Finlayson. “Whatever it is, kids get a huge thrill out of chasing foul balls.”
Venues like Old Mountain Field – with open space and none of the constraints of a minor league or big league stadium – provide a natural setting for the chase. Balls fly out of play regularly. Games of pickle and catch pause momentarily at every crack of the bat. If the ball is in foul ground, the race starts instantly.
On the first foul ball each night, public address announcer Derek Previte spells out the deal.
“That foul ball is brought to you by Benny and Jack,” he’ll say. “Kids, fetch that ball, bring it to the merchandise table and we’ll give you one dollar.”
On this night, front gate volunteers Joe Mello and Mackenzie Essex are the keepers of the foul ball cash. When one is returned, they check it for the NECBL and Gansett Wraps sponsorship logos. If it’s good to go – and not an old ball dug out of the woods – the trade is on.
“We get about six or seven good ones back a game,” Mello said. “Sometimes, kids will try to just give us some random ball that’s like a dark tan color and it’s like, ‘No, sorry.’”
The trade is worth it for the franchise, which burns through more than a thousand balls every summer. The cost is rolled into a contract with the ball manufacturer, but it’s safe to say giving up a dollar and re-using a ball is better than losing one.
The regulars are just fine with the arrangement.
“Kids will do anything for a dollar,” Essex said.
Whether the cash lasts the night and makes it to the piggy bank at home is an iffy proposition. The concession stand and merchandise table are frequent stops.
“It creates some real ball hawks,” Finlayson said. “You’ll see kids get five balls a night. We’ll try to entice them with a Waves mini bat. We’ll tell them we’ll drop the price of a hat to $10 if they get us 10 foul balls. We used to have one kid who would show up in full catcher’s gear.”
Brown gets his first foul ball of the night early on and trades it in quickly.
“Getting one was my goal,” he says.
His friend, Nathan Cummiskey, notes that he got four foul balls the other night. He’s waiting on his first tonight. Sure enough, he emerges from a parking lot chase in the fifth inning with a ball.
The savviest of the ball hawks position themselves down the first base line for right-handed hitters and the third base line for lefties. Some prefer the middle ground, like brothers Talan and Landon Bradley and their friend, Eli Ford.
“We usually go where the balls are hit the most,” Ford says.
Posted up by the bleachers, they’re in a perfect spot for a high pop-up that lands by the front gate in the fourth inning. Talan Bradley grabs it.
“I think I’m going to keep it,” he says. “A dollar isn’t good enough.”
Later in the night, he gets an autograph from a Waves player.
The intensity of the chases only grows as the game wears on, near-misses fueling the kids who haven’t come up with one yet. In the sixth inning, a left-handed hitter peppers the parking lot during a long at-bat, and the same 15 kids barely stop running. The fastest lead the pack. There’s always a younger kid who gets a late start and can’t keep up the pace but tries anyway. Optimism.
When the crowd has thinned out a little, the outfield grass on the neighboring softball field becomes a hot spot, with three pop-ups landing there in the same inning. A dozen kids set up shop, waiting for more.
Tat Kassabian holds his ground down the third base line. It’s been a good night. His younger brother snagged the first ball of the night, and Tat won a wild chase for one later.
“I was running and there were just a bunch of people in a herd,” he says. “It hit a car and bounced and I dove for it.”
Did it hurt?
“No,” he says.
Does he trade the balls in?
“Sometimes, if I want something at the concession . . . ,” he says, the crack of the bat interrupting him. A foul ball is headed his way. He sprints.
The chase is on.