Why I'll Be Rooting For

Why I'll Be Rooting For The Cowboys This Season: Over at ESPN: The Magazine, David Fleming is high on the Dallas Cowboys -- and I, a perennial Cowboy hater, hope he's right.

To find out why, we've got to rewind back to Labor Day Weekend 1998. Back then, I was hosting my parents, my sister and Dan, my future brother-in-law, for the weekend. On the Saturday of their stay, I took everyone to see the Prince William (now Potomac) Cannons, the Carolina League affiliate of the St. Louis Cardinals.

It being late in the season, just about every night had a giveaway, and the night we went it was, "Million Dollar Pitch Night". At random, one lucky fan would get a chance to throw three pitches at a target from the mound for a chance at $1 million dollars. Dan and I signed up, figuring why not give it a shot?

Well, as fate would have it, it was the right choice. But instead of having Dan's name picked, which would have resulted in an amateur baseball pitcher taking to the mound (he's still a starting pitcher in an adult league back on Long Island to this day), I was the lucky winner. And, as luck would have it, I hadn't thrown a baseball since, well, before they made fun of George Will's throwing skills on Saturday Night Live.

But of course, it gets worse. In the team offices, I was asked to sign reams of legal documents to satisfy the insurance company that was backing the contest (to learn more about how these contests work, click here). Besides certifying that I had never played professional baseball, I had to promise not to touch a ball again before I took the mound -- so forget about warming up.

Worst of all, while I would be throwing off a mound, I had to be in complete contact with the rubber at all times. Needless to say, it was going to be an awkward three pitches.

Going back to my seat to wait out the game, I decided that I wouldn't tell my family that I had been picked -- I figured it would make a nice surprise. My name had already been announced on the PA system calling me to the team offices, so they knew something was up. What I needed was a cover story -- any would do.

"So, is it you?" asked my Dad.

"No, no such luck," I said.

"Then what did they want?" my sister said.

"I left my lights on when we parked," I replied.

And my family, though puzzled (how in the world could they match a name to a lisence plate so fast?), bought the story.

In the top of the ninth, with my Dad wondering if we could leave early, I finally had to fess up. One of the team's PR interns, who had been assigned to guard me in case I tried to slip out of the stands to the speed gun cage to warm up, tapped me on the shoulder in the bottom of the ninth. It was showtime.

Now, because the greater DC area has so many transients, some people aren't terribly aware of the regional animosities that exist here. For example, in many areas of Virginia, the counties of Fairfax, Arlington, and the City of Alexandria are known as "Northern Virginia" -- the polite term used by The Washington Post, local TV, and regional chambers of commerce.

But, in Prince William County, where I was making my minor league baseball debut, this area is known by another name, one that developed circa 1861: "Occupied Virginia." Guess some people can't get over some things no matter how hard they try.

Then again, turnabout is fair play, and those of us up North call the Dumfries-Manassas area in Prince William, "Dumb-Ass Virginia" -- which I find rather witty and inventive.

So, as I strode to the mound, the PA announcer said: "Tonight's contestant, from Arlington -- Eric McErlain"

"BOOOOOO, YOU SUCK! GO HOME!"

And that was before they saw that I was wearing a New York Mets cap -- something which only increased the volume.

"BOOOOOO, YOU SUCK! GO HOME!"

Let me tell you, if you ever have the opportunity to be booed by 3,000 people, jump at it! I'm telling you, nothing beats getting jeered and trash talked by a mob of people who don't even know you.

But just as suddenly as it began, the booing ceased when I reached the mound. As they brought out the target, as well as a video camera in case I actually hit anything, I slowly realized that these people wanted to see me win. The mood changed that fast.

"HEY ERIC! YOU CAN DO IT!" I never caught her name, but she was cute, brunette, and sitting behind the third base line. She was probably married anyway.

"DUDE, NO PROBLEM! 1-2-3, A MILLION BUCKS." Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt, first base side.

It was an intoxicating feeling. After a few seconds, I thought, maybe I actually have a shot? Three balls at a target, how hard could it be? And if I make it, well, then. . .

OH MY GOD! I'LL BE ON SPORTSCENTER!!!!

Screw the million, this was my shot at immortality. But, as they set up the target, my heart sank.

The target looked something like a miniature free-standing portable backstop -- maybe 7 feet high. It's frame was made of metal pipe, with canvas stretched across. At about the 6'6" mark was a hole, maybe 1 foot square. And from sixty feet, six inches, it looked as if I might as well have been throwing at package of Saltines.

"So Eric, are you ready," said the PR drone standing next to me, his voice booming over the loudspeaker."

I just nodded in response, and stared at the target. And waited.

And then I waited some more. Which really seemed to rile the crowd. Which was great. I was loving it, and wanted to milk the moment for all it was worth.

"You ok Eric?" said the PR drone.

I just nodded again, giving him a perturbed glance before turning back to the target. I focussed as best I could, reminded myself not to let my foot leave the rubber, and let it fly.

As the ball left my hand, the crowd's reaction seemed to mirror it's flight. At my release point, there was still plenty of hope, but as it's ill-fated journey continued, it became clear it wasn't even going to be close.

And then, they turned on me.

"BOOOOO. YOU SUCK! GO HOME!"

Well, so much for $1 million and a shot at immortality. But with the way the contest worked, I still had two more balls to throw. Get one in, $100. Two, make $1,000.

But my heart wasn't in it. I lobbed two more, each time with similar results.

"BOOOOO. YOU SUCK! GO HOME!"

Thinking my adventure was over, I stepped off the mound and back into obscurity. But again, the mood changed, and they were cheering me again.

"GOOD SHOT. WAY TO GO, ERIC!"

As I strode back to the first base line, buried in the midst of a mass of fans applauding me, was my Dad, the one who wanted to leave early. As he caught my eye, I could see he was pointing to centerfield over my shoulder. I turned, and got a real surprise from the scoreboard:

ON THE MOUND: ERIC MCERLAIN.

Wow, they even spelled my name right. Nobody ever spells my name right. At least not on the first try.

To say the least, it was an unbeatable feeling. Before I walked off the field (where local folks actually asked me to pose for photos with them), I felt a tug at my elbow. It was PR drone.

"Hey, would you like a baseball as a souvenier?" as he held out an official, game-used, Carolina League baseball.

"Sure, but could you have the Cannons starting pitcher autograph it for me?

"No problem, be right back," he said.

About 10 minutes later, he returned with the ball, autographed as promised. To this day, the ball sits on a bookshelf, a prized posession, safe inside a plastic display case.

The starter that night, as I had read somewhere, was ticketed for big things in the Cardinals organization. He moved pretty quickly up the ranks, and eventually made it to the big leagues in 2001 -- where, truth be told, he was less than successful.

Luckily, the boy had something to fall back on. Because while he was in college at Stanford, Chad Hutchinson didn't just play baseball, he was also the starting quarterback for the football team. And, after leaving baseball for good after the 2001 season, Hutchinson signed a multi-year contract with the Dallas Cowboys.

Some say he may even be ticketed for stardom in the NFL. Here's hoping he is, and that he provides yet another twist to what was simply one of the most exciting evenings of my life.

Eric 02:55 AM

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