They've taken all the fun out of running onto the field

How Jelisa Castrodale has never been arrested for trespassing on a pro sports playing field, or tasered, is one of life’s greater mysteries. At least it was until now. Here she explains the dichotomy of her poor decision-making skills and clean criminal record. Also, why Philadelphia fans are so dumb.
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By Jelisa Castrodale
I’m no stranger to bad decisions. Large sections of my life have been littered with poor choices, unwitting mishaps and outright mistakes. I’ve had more than one spiral perm. I dated an Alabama fan. I worked in advertising. Despite having enough screwups to fill an F-150, there are still a handful of things that are too stupid even for me, a girl who paid to join the Kris Kross fan club.
One boneheaded idea I’ll never ink on my to-do list is running on the field during a baseball game, if only because no one can lead me away in handcuffs without buying me dinner first. That doesn’t mean that I won’t watch the grainy YouTube footage of anyone dumb enough to interrupt a game in exchange for grass stained pants and drunken high fives. Or — if you jump onto the field during a Phillies home stand — you might get a 1200-volt souvenir.

During the eighth inning of Philly’s game on Monday night, 17-year-old Steve Consalvi invaded the outfield at Citizens Bank Park, racing haphazardly around the turf while taunting security with a towel like a terrycloth-waving matador. After making a poorly-timed turn toward left field, he was tasered, prompting boos from the crowd, because booing and Philly fans go together like spinsters and stray cats.
For the past four days, Consalvi has been the most talked-about teenager this side of Justin Bieber. That high voltage takedown all but ensured that he’ll be listed in his yearbook as Most Likely to Have An Irregular Heartbeat. He’s been burned (no pun intended) by family members willing to blab to the press and has hired an attorney who swears that he “has learned a valuable lesson.” The lawyer didn’t elaborate, but “the lesson” probably has something to do with getting that seared flesh smell out of your favorite Phillies t-shirt.
Unfortunately, Consalvi’s publicity encouraged 34-year old Thomas Betz to perform a half-assed encore on Tuesday night. The overweight would-be DJ shuffled around the warning track just long enough to distract Phils starting pitcher Cole Hamels. Betz was stopped by security without incident, although he should’ve been incinerated for having a haircut last seen on “To the Extreme”-era Vanilla Ice.
Betz — aka DJ Thorobred (aka DJ Never Learned To Read) — has been largely ignored, despite tweeting “turn on the phillies game, im about to be on the feild!!!!!!!!!!” before he rolled onto the dirt. He never made the “feild”, possibly because he was weighed down by several dozen extra exclamation points.
Most of the ongoing debate surrounding Steve Consalvi has centered around whether or not he should’ve been tased, especially since the scrawny teen looks like he could’ve been taken down by Polly Pocket. He didn’t seem to pose any immediate threat, but you never know; one of the last teens to trespass on an MLB field was 15 year-old William Ligue, Jr.
If you’ve deleted his name out of your brain’s hard drive, Ligue was half of the Michelob-marinated father/son duo, the ones with identical names and identical aversions to wearing shirts. In 2002, the Ligues took time away from giving each other homemade tattoos to charge the field during a White Sox game, viciously attacking visiting Royals first base coach Tom Gamboa. As if working for Kansas City wasn’t painful enough, Gamboa suffered permanent hearing damage and lost his position shortly after filing a six-figure lawsuit; the Ligues were awarded with a matching set of assault charges.
There was a time — a softer, kinder, sepia-tinted time — when running onto the field was harmless, as was hitchhiking and smoking and casual sex. When Hank Aaron hit his Babe Ruth-besting 715th home run, he was quickly joined on the basepath by two 1970s stereotypes with pleather blazers and wide collars, a pair of goofy white dudes who’d most likely never made it to second base before, on or off the field.
The seventies also delivered Morganna “The Kissing Bandit” Roberts, an Ohio woman with a mess of platinum curls and breasts the size of sea turtles, who repeatedly bounced out of her fieldside seats to smooch an impressive roster of players. For two decades the topheavy Ms. Roberts — who looked like a walking improper fraction — crisscrossed the country braving stadium security, chain link fences, and cold sores to collect more All Stars than a set of Topps cards.
But in the years since Morganna retired her Blistex and underwire bras, the world has grown darker, colder and more suspicious. Going to a baseball game involves more metal detectors and fewer Kodak moments; more handbags being searched and fewer games being hand scored; an increase in safety measures and a decrease in the sense of security.
Giving someone who runs onto the field the benefit of the doubt — that they’re harmlessly stupid or stupidly harmless — is a notion that has been retired like a Hall of Famer’s jersey. Monica Seles’ stabbing taught us that. As a result, sometimes a seventeen-year-old takes a thousand volts to the back. Should Consalvi have been tased?
Absolutely. He ignored the “KEEP YOUR KHAKI COVERED ASS IN YOUR SEAT” warning printed (in more lawyer-approved language) on the ticket he’d crammed into his cargo shorts.
But what do I know? I still make mistakes too. Just look at my haircut.
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Jelisa Castrodale is a writer and comedian who has learned a lot about life by making a mess of her own. She chronicles her failures at The Typing Makes Me Sound Busy, covers music for London’s BitchBuzz and twitters while she waits at stoplights. Castrodale was featured in the book Twitter Wit and was named one of Mashable’s 10 Funniest Twitterers.
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