It Didn’t Help to Keep Two at Arm’s Length

Thirty-three thousand, two hundred and eight human beings held tickets to Sunday’s baseball game at Dodger Stadium, and not one was injured by a player.

Thank you, fans, for surviving today’s game -- and please, drive home safely.

Here’s a statistical recap of the ballgame:

--Hit By Pitched Ball: 0.

--Hit By Ball Thrown Into Stands: 0.

Please rise for our seventh-inning stretch -- but if you see something round and hard coming at you, duck.

Not one Dodger or Phillie threw a hardball at anybody in the stands, showing uncommon restraint here in 1991, the year of living dangerously.

Not one fan had to fear turning her back on anybody in uniform, as those who watch Cincinnati’s Rob Dibble now do.

Not one fan had to fear heckling anybody in uniform, as those who watch Cleveland’s Albert Belle now do.

For the people of Ohio, catcher’s equipment and masks will be distributed at Gate A before every game. Help yourselves. At least out here in Los Angeles, it’s our players who are dodgers, not our fans.

Hey, it’s Souvenir Baseball Night here at the ol’ ballyard! The first lucky customer to get conked by one of our players will take home valuable gifts -- and it could be you!

A few weeks ago, Cincinnati’s Dibble, one of our goofier major leaguers, recorded the first hit fan of the ’91 season. Not content to throw at batters, which happens to be one of his specialties, Dibble uncorked a baseball into the seats and struck a female schoolteacher who had her back to the infield as she was leaving the stadium. (The nerve of her.)

Dibble has an excellent arm, but not a lot between his neck and cap. He nailed the woman on the arm, sending her directly from the Reds’ crowd to the Red Cross.

Why did Dibble chuck the ball into the stands? Because he was happy. Because he won the game. Because football players throw footballs into the stands all the time. Because tennis players throw shirts and shoes. Because golfers throw golf balls. Because brides throw bouquets. When you’re happy, you want to throw things.

Afterward, Robby said he was so sorry and that it would never, ever happen again.

Any use or rebroadcast of this telecast without the expressed permission of Major League Baseball will be dealt with promptly by having one of our players throw a baseball at you next time you visit one of our parks. Thank you.

We take you now to Cleveland, where young Albert Belle of the Indians has interrupted Saturday’s game against the Angels with the traditional seventh-inning kvetch.

A gentleman--excuse me, a man--named Jeff Pillar, 33, had been riding Belle unmercifully. Pillar is--let me see, how can I put this without offending him?--what in baseball terminology would commonly be referred to as a jerk. Guys with mouths like Jeff’s are why they call it foul territory.

Jeff is easy to pick out at any Indian baseball game. He is the one with the tattoos up and down every inch of both arms. He is also the one shouting at a recovering alcoholic: “Hey, keg party tonight at my house.”

Jeff Pillar is the kind of guy everybody should get to throw a baseball at, like in a dunking booth.

Albert Belle couldn’t resist. He went ballistic. Albert didn’t even aim for the cutoff man. He went directly for Pillar in the fourth row. Drilled him from 15 feet away, right in the tanktop. If the baseball were a beanbag, this shot would have been worth at least 50 points. Jeff Pillar went home wearing an imprint of American League President Bobby Brown’s signature on his sternum.

Like, ow, dude.

Albert apologized. Albert has a nasty temper. He busted up a room once with a baseball bat. He drank too much and went berserk too much. But Saturday, he was sober. He simply couldn’t stand that fan’s big mouth. So, he threw him a strike--and struck him. Let the guy know what it really feels like to get tattooed.

Afterward, Albert said he was so sorry and that it would never, ever happen again.

Look, I know it’s a jungle out there. I know some of these people are animals. I know you’d like to go after them, like hockey players. I know what Darryl Strawberry endured in New York. But generally, throwing baseballs at fans is a bad idea. They might come armed and start throwing back.

Say, fans! Be sure to bring your mitts and your bulletproof vests and pay up those insurance premiums for this Sunday’s big doubleheader! We’re removing our protective screen behind home plate for this one night only! Baseball fever -- catch one right in the face!