Foul Play
On the trail of the most reclusive man in sports
By Wayne Drehs
Illustrations by Larry Johnson
It's a steamy, hot Chicago afternoon, and deep inside my own personal heaven I am searching for hell.
The Steve Bartman seat.
I'm on a quest to find sports' most infamous fan. My goal is to peel back the layers of the mystery behind Bartman, who hasn't provided any insight into the most painful night in Chicago Cubs history -- October 14, 2003 -- other than a 185-word statement the morning after. I desperately want to understand more, and I'm starting at the scene of the crime: Wrigley Field's left-field corner just beyond the foul line.
Aisle 4, row 8, seat 113.
A nearby usher sends me in the right direction, motioning to the last seat in the eighth row, the one with the Cubs stickers plastered across it. The forest-green color stands out on this sunny day, and I instantly wonder why it isn't black, a memorial-like armband forever symbolizing the death of a World Series dream.
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