It was an enormous gamble, but our team was in a slump and I didn’t become the coach from doing things by the book. The monkey, I decided, was going to play baseball. However, it only took just a few pitches after the substitution and all hell had broken loose. Threatened by the shortstop’s gender, the monkey third baseman decided to attack him, scratching his face to shreds and then biting his testicles as he lay in the dirt, unconscious.
I sat in my usual spot on the bench, chewing sunflower seeds and watching, with a strange sense of calm, the horror escalate to total panic. The noise of the crowd was dissolving as they rushed the exits, with the exception of two sharp, collective screams following each of the gunshots it took for the police officers to finally end the chimp’s rampage.
“Should I have just gone with that minor league guy?” I wondered.
(Answer: Yes)
