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This is a personal narrative I had to write for my 11th grade English class. I know that Schilling is big fan of the Shrub, so it'll fit on DU. My point is that Curt Schilling is NOT baseball's "good guy" as the media loves to portay him. But in his defense, my dad wrote him a letter about the situation and he mailed me a signed baseball card in the end. This did help, but still, it's just like a Bush man to be a jerk to a 12 year old fan. Moral values ya know...
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I have had many memorable experiences in my life. I have had the opportunity to visit many big cities and meet a number of famous people. For example, I have been to cities like Baltimore, Washington D.C., Miami, and St. Louis. I have met such famous people as Joe Namath, Pete Rose, Stan Musial, Julius Erving, Johnnie Cochran, Don Shula, Kenny Stabler, and Walter Payton. It might be surprising to learn that all those experiences pale in comparison to an evening I had in Atlanta when I had a confrontation with Curt Schilling.
In the summer of 2000, I was twelve years old. Like most twelve year old boys, I was a big baseball fan. My favorite team was the Philadelphia Phillies. The Phillies best player was Curt Schilling. Schilling was regarded as one of the league’s best players.
In July of 2000, my parents and I drove to Atlanta to watch the Braves play the Phillies. As an added bonus, we stayed at the Marriott Marquis, a high rise hotel in downtown Atlanta. All of the pro sports tams that come to Atlanta stay at the Marriott Marquis. On the way to Atlanta, I dreamed of meeting Curt Schilling and the rest of the Phillies. It was going to be great.
Within a few minutes after arriving at the hotel, my Dad and I saw two Philly players, Bobby Abreu and Alex Arias. I ran up to them and asked for their autograph. Both men were super nice and seemed to enjoy talking with us. They even told us they would leave tickets at the will call window at the stadium. The seats were incredible, right behind home plate. A few hours later, I went to where the Philly players were scheduled to board the bus that afternoon. All of the players were happy to sign an autograph for me. There was one player who did not board the bus that afternoon, Curt Schilling. Apparently, he took a taxi to the stadium. To say I was disappointed would be an understatement. I had such high hopes for meeting Mr. Schilling.
We had a great time at the game. After the game, I wanted to rush back to the hotel to wait on Schilling. My chances of meeting him were hanging by a thread. It took forever to get back to the hotel. The traffic was awful.
Finally, we got back to the hotel. I sprinted to the lobby to await his arrival. As I was looking over the balcony, I saw him on the floor below. I went down the escalator and ran toward him with my baseball.
When I got close to him, I could tell that he was not as friendly as the other players. He was huge! In my nicest voice, I asked him for an autograph. He told me, “No, I don’t sign at the hotel.” He then walked past me. I was stunned. In my twelve-year-old mind, I rationalized that maybe he didn’t understand my request. I then ran after the 6'4" superstar. I caught him as he was entering the elevator. I again asked for his autograph. This time, Mr. Schilling made it clear that he was not signing my baseball. He yelled out, “I told you I don’t sign at the hotel, bud!” I couldn’t believe it. I was crushed.
Looking back on this unique experience, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. One day, I will be able to tell my grandchildren I was yelled at by a Hall of Famer on a Summer night in Atlanta. It is an experience that I will never forget.
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