Atchison, Manziel reactions and the SI cover jinx: While We’re Waiting…
August 21, 2014Indians 5, Twins 0: Handsome in the House
August 21, 2014Picture Jim Harbaugh, the headset-throwing, pleated pants-wearing, Sharpie-toting head coach of the San Francsico 49ers. Now picture him as a five-year-old child, taking in a Cleveland Indians game with his family, including a seven-year-old brother, John. The Harbaughs, Toldeo, Ohio natives, get the fortune of getting in line to meet in Indians player after the game. But Jim had a few too many carbonated beverages during the game and, when the duo was roughly 20 people from their turn to take a picture, was forced to make a decision.
I know we entered the field from the first-base side, just to get a picture with him. Just to get a Polaroid picture.
And I had to go to the bathroom really bad. So I had to make a decision: Me and my brother were like 20 people from actually being able to go on to the field and take a picture with [the player] right by the first-base bag.
And it was either go to the bathroom and not get a picture, or do it right there in my pants. So I chose to go in my pants and my parents have this picture of a big ring right here (points to an obvious place on the front of his pants).
I just want that picture for some reason. I really want that picture.
When Jim was five years old, assuming his math is correct, the Harbaughs were taking in a 1968 season, a roster littered with players like Sam McDowell, Luis Tiant and a 21-year-old Ray Fosse. It’s tough to tell who would’ve been worth the pants peeing—Tony Horton led the team with 14 home runs; the team’s best hitter was s 33-year-old Lee Maye who hit .281. Hopefully Harbaugh can procure that photograph as it would not only end the mystery, but would be one of the most-shared pictures on the Internet.
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(h/t SBNation; Photo by Ezra Shaw/Getty Images)
5 Comments
You gotta admire that kind of dedication.
the last 49ers HC dropped his pants, the current one peed his pants.
Ha, that was at something called “Camera Day.” They’d let fans on the field in foul territory behind a yellow rope and willing players would walk up to the rope. This was decades pre-selfies. The idea was more to get a pic of the players than to get a pic with them, which was real hard because of the rope.
Was much easier to wait at Gate B until about an hour after the game, when every player, coach and announcer had to walk past real folks to get to their outside parking lot. That’s where you scored your autographs. In the late ’70s Rico Carty lived downtown and just walked to his place. So did Pat Corrales, who lived in a hotel on East 6th and Superior.
Ha haaa, my brother got a photo of the immortal Roy Foster at one of those Camera Days. A 35-mm color slide, no less!
Captain Easy! My Dad took a 35 mm of Luis Tiant, who shook my tiny hand with 2 fingers. He smelled like a cigar. To this day I get enraged when Boston fans have no idea Tiant was a stud here first, didn’t just appear ex nihilo in Fenway.