A question

You are at the Giants game vs. the Phillies on June 2nd. You are sitting behind home plate, enjoying the game, perhaps even ordering some food from the attendants who are there to attend (obviously, being attendants, they are there to attend) to your every wish. You may do this because you are a glutton who cannot sit still for very long without eating (me). You may be doing it because you will likely never sit in those seats again and feel that you ought to utilize the attendant while you can. In fact, you are probably doing it because you didn't have to pay for parking because the tickets you got came with parking.

So you sit, relaxing comfortably in your larger-than-standard seat, and suddenly you notice that Barry Bonds is up to bat. He is hard to miss because his head blocks out the sun. And the lights. You watch, fascinated because he is one home run away from breaking Henry Aaron’s record. You wonder a few things.

First. When Aaron broke Babe Ruth's record, he couldn't even make it past second base without having some people run out of the stands and try to share the moment with him. You wonder if this was because he was slow, but that can't be it. You wonder if its because those people had something invested in his breaking the record and were close friends of his that he would want to share the record with. Then you remember that people are crazy so you stop wondering.

Second. You wonder if Bonds will have someone race out of the stands to round the bases with him. You know he's slow. You know he is even a bit gimpy as human bodies don't always work when you supercharge the muscles and forget the tendons that hold them in place. Then you remember that people are crazy.

Third. You wonder how you really feel about all this. What if he breaks the record during this at bat? Will you feel connected to a great moment in sports that people might watch fifty years from now on 6,789 inch plasma screen SSSHD screens and wonder why people were so crazy back now? Will you be disgusted and feel that he has cheated his way to the record and weep uncontrollably at the degradation of society brought on by the advent of performance enhancing drugs and Glen Rosazza's inability to single handedly save the environment.

As you are wondering, Barry hits a TOWERING foul ball. It rises high above the stadium drifting slowly back behind the plate. You watch the ball and wonder some more, but nothing important, maybe the laundry you didn't do or whether or not Batman really does hate Superman. Then the ball starts falling and you realize it is going to fall right on you. You do what any sane person does and hope it falls near you and the guy next to you muffs it so you can get it easily and not look like an idiot.

Sadly, it comes right at you, no one jumps, but amazingly you catch it.

Here is your moment. Along with every fan around you, most of the stadium and probably 50+ million people on TV, Barry Bonds is staring right at you. He is out of the box, leaning on his bat slightly, and staring straight at you. You can tell he wants you to say something. An odd quiet falls over the stadium.

If you knew that he would hit the very next pitch out of the park and into Allen Iverson’s back yard in New Jersey, and you knew he would hear exactly what you said, you knew that he was listening to hear what you had to say, what would you say?