They met a couple of hours before the first pitch. They tried on their beards, downed some Natty Bohs and warmed up with a few Wild Bill chants. David Clapp placed the odds at 10-1 that one of them might dance atop the dugout later, and Barker Harrison showed up with a cooler and announced that the night wouldn’t be complete until someone chucked it from the upper deck.
[...]
With two outs in the third inning, an usher made his way down to Row MM. “You guys can’t stand up,” he said. “You’re standing up too much.”
Yep, the magic is surely dead, I thought.
But that’s precisely when it happened. The sparkle had arrived. I’m not sure whether it was magic dust glistening under the stadium lights or the droplets of beer hanging in Wild Bill’s fake beard.
First, Relish won the scoreboard hot dog race. Then Kevin Millar homered. Then Ramon Hernandez doubled to score Luke Scott and Aubrey Huff. And a ballpark of Yankees fans had been conquered by a dozen Wild Bills.
[...]
Once an inning or so, a Wild Bill would leave his seat, scamper down the steps and turn to the crowd, contorting his body into the alphabet. “O-R-I-O-L-E-S!” he’d scream. It was Wild Bill’s signature, the beer in his belly, the ink in his pen.
The Wild Bills got a wave started that circled the entire park. They appeared on the video scoreboard. They received hugs from girls and high-fives from guys. Other fans visited the section and snapped photos with their cell phones. One fan even handed over his ticket stub and a pen.
By the time Amber Theoharis, the in-game reporter for Mid-Atlantic Sports Network, showed up in the middle of the sixth inning for a live interview, the Orioles were leading 4-0 and the spirit of Wild Bill was plenty alive at Camden Yards.
[...]
Images of the original Wild Bill flashed on the scoreboard, and a Memorial Stadium vendor turned Aspen innkeeper turned Wild Bill impersonator appeared atop the dugout. Case had a pillow stuffed beneath his shirt and wore cut-off denim shorts. A fake beard covered his face and another hung out the back of his straw hat. He waved his hat and led yet another O-R-I-O-L-E-S cheer.
So do you believe?
A cold drink and old memories don’t erase a decade of futility. But history matters. The spirit of Wild Bill matters.
It’s still out there, swilling cheap beer, waving a hat and refusing to be pushed around by tourists in Yankees caps.
Every now and then, you can still catch a glimpse of the magic. It reminds you of better times and makes you yearn for the day when the magic is not quite so rare.
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