Heckling Just Isn’t What It Used to Be

Albert Belle of the Cleveland Indians, who admittedly has a drinking problem, apparently does not have a throwing problem. When a heckling fan invited him to “a keg party,” Belle fired a baseball at him and hit him in the chest.

The Oakland A’s Jose Canseco, as famous for his Dukes of Hazzard driving as he is for home runs, had to be stopped from going after a Yankee Stadium fan who taunted him about his wife, Esther, and his visit to Madonna’s apartment building.

Luis Polonia of the Angels has to endure Yankee Stadium fans yelling “jailbait,” an allusion to Polonia’s conviction for having sex with a minor.

Leave it to Rob Dibble to punish a fan who wasn’t even heckling him. Last month, angry at himself for pitching ineffectively, the Reds reliever threw a ball from the mound into the Riverfront Stadium center-field bleachers. Dibble’s missile hit a first-grade teacher on the elbow, causing her to miss two days of school. Dibble apologized and paid her medical bills. It was the least he could do.

What’s going on here?

Two things. First, hecklers have gotten bolder, and more personal with their insults. Second, baseball’s millionaire players, who tend to live an increasingly isolated existence populated almost entirely with yes-men, have become less tolerant of barbs hurled by what many players see as jealous fans.

Most of us would willingly endure slurs that would embarrass Andrew Dice Clay if they gave us $2 million to play right field for the Seattle Mariners. But as their astronomical salaries -- 36 players make $3 million or more a year -- and hordes of yes-men further isolate them from the realities of the average working stiff’s life, many ballplayers don’t see it that way. They don’t see themselves as lucky, just put upon. Why else would they charge for autographs? They’re mad as hell, and they’re not going to take it anymore.

The message is clear: Heckle at your own risk.

Too bad. Heckling has great tradition. Hecklers have been around since Biblical times. When Moses parted the Red Sea, somebody on the upper banks probably yelled, “Whatsa matter, bush-leaguer, Indian Ocean too big for ya?”

Heckling was never too big in ancient Rome, especially when the Christians went one-on-one with the lions at the Colosseum. The lions would take the early lead, and some wise guys, who probably got free tickets from Nero, would start raggin’ on the Christians. “Come on down here if you think you can do any better,” came the reply from the arena floor. That shut ‘em up.

If hecklers use coarser language than their precursers did, it’s a reflection of society. Back when there were three networks, no cable, and the police raided Lenny Bruce’s nightclub act, you couldn’t say “pregnant” on TV, Rob and Laura Petrie slept in twin beds, and when Beaver Cleaver got fed up with Eddie Haskell making fun of him, he told Eddie to “dry up.” That was what passed for profanity on prime-time TV.

Society has become more permissive, but attitudes in various regions of the country have remained fairly consistent. East Coast fans tend to be the most caustic and foul-mouthed, West Coast fans are pretty laid-back, and Midwestern fans, with the exception of Chicago’s, are just plain nice.

As a traveling sportswriter, you get to see, and hear, all types of fan behavior. But after 18 years in this profession, the most memorable heckler I ever heard was at a Celtics-Bucks playoff game in Milwaukee: A middle-aged woman who left her courtside seat to stand behind the basket and heckle Larry Bird as he was about to shoot two free throws.

“Dry up, Larry Bird,” she called. “Dry up.”

No, she wasn’t the Beaver’s mother. And no, Larry didn’t go after her.

Although the comparative intimacy of an indoor arena would seem to make player-fans tension a bigger problem in basketball and hockey, there seem to be fewer opportunities for heckling -- and trips to the beer concession, alcohol being a co-conspirator -- because basketball and hockey are fast-moving sports.

Baseball, on the other hand, moves slowly. There is so much dead air between every pitch just waiting to be filled by some loudmouth. Unlike in other sports, baseball players are spaced far apart, especially in the outfield. Their distance from the stands, their aloneness, might further a heckler’s courage. After all, when’s the last time you heard someone heckle a football huddle?