There he sits, aisle 4, row 8, seat 113. Staring through narrow spectacle lenses strained into the void, the cap pulled deep into the pale face, headphones on the ears, the green turtleneck sweater high around the neck, as if he wanted to disappear into it. Fingers point to him, "Asshole" shouts roar through the stadium Wrigley Field.
Steve Bartman may suspect that his life will be different after this cursed ball has flown in his direction. Someone tipped Bartman beer over his head, people spit, and finally security staff escorted the young fan of the Chicago Cubs from the stands. He has his team, it will be called later, just messed up the chance for the 2003 championship.
Baseball is America's favorite pastime. This smell of grass and fast food, the antiquated flutes of the stadium organ, the bright clicks when the wood of the bat hits the ball full. 18 players, four bases, a racket and a ball - but is not it much more than that? The epic triumphs and crashing defeats, all the stories that fathers and mothers pass on to their children like precious gifts.
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Steve Bartman: A fan, a foulball, a curseNo sport in the US is older, not so deep a part of the American soul. The World Series, the final between the best American and National League teams, has been around since 1903. Baseball is endlessly rich in legends and myths. And curses.
Murphy's Law: The curse of the goat
Bartman, 26, knows all that. The Chicago Cubs' team is legendary, so dominant in the 1907 and 1908 championship years, and unsuccessful afterwards. In 1945, when the club was about to win the World Series again, a man named Billy Sianis of the stadium was expelled for bringing his goat Murphy. Sianis cursed the Cubs, they may never reach the World Series again. The words of a spinner, of course, but also a piece of baseball history - because the Cubs lost spectacular and remained for decades without much success.
On October 14, 2003, the "Curse of Billy's Goat" is almost the 68th anniversary of the day. The Cubs is now flooding a certain futility. But now everything could turn out well. In the National League final for the entry into the World Series, they only need a victory against the Florida Marlins. They dominate, the triumph seems close, the fans celebrate. Then Marlins player Luis Castillo hits a ball far down the baseline towards the stands.
Cubs player Moises Alou runs, jumps and sticks his glove up, his whole body a tense muscle. The ball, a small white drop in an ocean of possibilities, falls exactly at the height of the balustrade between field and grandstand from the sky.
If Alou catches the ball, Castillo is out. If he lands in the stands, it is a foulball and Castillo gets another impact attempt. "I'm 100 percent sure that I caught the ball," says Alou after the game, "but out of nowhere there was a hand."
The one by Steve Bartman.
Everyone who has been there live knows the feeling when a game "tilts". One, two actions can be enough. As Bartman's outstretched arm deflects the ball and lands it somewhere under the seats of Gang 4, when Alou furiously fires his glove into the dirt, the game is not over yet. But lost to the Cubs.
At mortal danger from the stadium
To catch foulballs is part of baseball. Also other fans beside Bartman stretch their hands afterwards. But nobody wants to know that soon. The Cubs lose first the thread, then the game, with 3: 8 to 3: 0 lead. The bewilderment of the fans becomes rage, a "lynching mentality," as a security man later says. In the catacombs some Bartman want to collar, one tinkers while playing a poster: "Kill the fan."
The security guards hide and disguise him to get him out of the stadium. No one yet knows who this guy is in the turtleneck sweater, but his name is quickly on the fledgling Internet, including the address.
The next day the Cubs lose the crucial game and do not go to the World Series again. Blame it, according to public opinion, is the fan that messed up the game. Cubs players and officials call for him to be left alone. In front of Bartman's house are camera crews and because of the many death threats up to six police cars.
And Bartman? Lets make a statement: "There are no words for how terrible I feel and what I have experienced in the last 24 hours." He had not seen Alou, had been captured by the moment, completely understand the connection of his action with the outcome of the game. "I want to apologize to Moises Alou, the Cubs and all fans, from the depths of my broken Cubs fan heart."
The ball is blown up and made into pasta sauce
It does not help. Bartman has to submerge, death threats and police protection are now part of his life. A Chicago city council recommends Bartman to move to Alaska, and the Illinois governor even recommends a witness protection program. Nasty Bartman photomontages become their own genre on the Internet, "Death to Steve Bartman" pages appear.
He himself remains missing, ignoring interview requests from around the world, also proposes a six-digit offer for a commercial. The myth grows with each season because it is never heard and seen. Some say that Bartman changed his face at the cosmetic surgeon or live abroad under a false name. He's fine, lets attorney Frank Murtha, a friend of the family, settle all requests.
Over the years, the incident turns into baseball folklore, as did Billy's goat once. For Halloween, Chicagoers walk around in Bartman costumes, his seat in the stadium becomes a place of pilgrimage. There is a Bartman sketch on "Saturday Night Live", one on "Family Guy", in the crime series "Law and Order" a fan catches a foulball and is murdered.
To break the curse, a PR-happy restaurant owner buys the Bartman ball for well over $ 100,000, blows it up in front of fans and processes the remains into pasta sauce. "The ball is like the ring of 'Lord of the Rings'," says the restaurateur. "And we're all like Frodo, who wants to get it all over."
And then the curse ends
And the cubs? Losing, of course, the important games, season after season. But then: in 2016 they have an exciting team again, the season is going well and getting better and better. The Cubs reach the big final and win 4: 3 against the Cleveland Indians - all the curses that end up on the club end as a captured ball in the glove of the player Anthony Rizzo.
In the first championship parade for 108 years, five million people are on Chicago's streets. Maybe Steve Bartman is among them, the outcast whose life a little mistake has so dramatically changed. As the years go by, the Chicagoers notice that he is no longer considered a "plague bird", as football coach Jürgen Klopp would say - but as the victim and scapegoat of a whole city, unable to lead a normal life.
The Cubs know that and post a statement shortly after the title: "We are proud to hand over a 2016 World Series Ring to Mr. Steve Bartman, and we hope that gesture closes an unlucky chapter in our history." Championship rings are the greatest honor in the US that an athlete can get. Each winner gets one. And now also Bartman, who then breaks his silence.
"Even though I feel unworthy of this honor," he writes, "I am deeply moved." His words are about a healing process, because this saga now has an end and his team a championship. That he is part of the Cubs family again. And will not give interviews.
