This is my most successful heckling story. It's the one time I actually believe my heckling impacted someone on a metaphysical level. It was April of 2009 during the Georgia series in Oxford. They had recently expanded the Right Field terrace towards the foul pole as part of the stadium expansion. My friends and I decided that we would use this new vantage point to heckle the opposing bullpen. It would be like shooting fish in a barrel, taking candy from a baby, getting a business degree... you get the point.
It began just like any other day. My friends and I were raining down a constant barrage of insults for several innings. Then, I spotted it. One of UGA's relievers had the absolute worst side burns ever witnessed. On top of that, he was a ginger. Oh and not like a "Daywalker" ginger that can get a tan, we're talking legitimate Sherminator-status ginger.*
*Author's note: I can make fun of gingers if I want because my best friend is a ginger. He doesn't mind, trust me.
A reliever from UGA threatened to jump the pen and whip my ass. He got mad when I insulted his sideburns. #StoriesfromRightField— Right Field Heckler (@RFhater) February 13, 2015
Now you may be thinking, "RF Hater, how bad could his sideburns have been?" Well, let me try to explain: they were so bad that Jarvis Summers himself would write a sermon condemning them and preach it from the top of Ventress Hall. I hope that helps.
Just like any heckler worth his salt, I targeted the obvious physical flaw that he's probably already self-conscious about and focused all of my heckling efforts on it. It didn't take long for him to get tired of my bullshit. He stopped in mid-throwing motion, turned to me and gracefully said, "Shut the fuck up."
Well, this did not make me shut the fuck up. He and I were separated by 40 feet, two fences, a concrete retaining wall, and an assistant coach -- I wasn't scared of him. I took a moment to collect my thoughts. I dug deep down -- down into the darkest nether-reaches of my soul -- and summoned my most vile hate. I bellowed, "Hey #35! You look like the lead singer from Fallout Boy! You shut the fuck up!"
You may be wondering, "RF Hater, that's a fairly elaborate insult. Why would he be offended?" This is why.
Let's just say that he didn't take too kindly to my dissing of his jaw mullet. He left the mound, threw his glove down, climbed the wall of the bull pen and told me he was going to "whip my frat boy ass." I calmly told him that he could fellate me if he wished, to which he replied, "Don't fucking move, I'm coming to whip your ass after the game." His macho cock-prancing went on for a bit until his pitching coach told him to simmer down. He went on to pitch a few innings during the game, but Ole Miss won 10-8 on their way to a series victory over UGA.
Now you're probably wondering if the guy showed up in Right Field after the game with his mangled face pubes, a few of his angry friends, and a baseball bat. No, he didn't. I got away with it that time. But let's just say it will be a while before I visit Athens, Ga.
Unfortunately, I don't have any photographic evidence, and I can't embed the guy's media guide photo due to lawsuits n' shit. However, I just couldn't leave you guys hanging. I worked up an amateur sketch just for y'all:
I know everyone has some great stories from Right Field, so feel free to share in the comments or hit me up on Twitter @RFhater.