All He Had to Do Was Follow the Bouncing Ball

My World Serious Diary: Game 1.

The very best sportswriters from around the country were sitting in the main press box at Edison Field for the first game of the World Series on Saturday, so I was asked to sit in right field with the others who failed to make the cut.

I took a seat behind a press table next to Times Sports Editor Bill Dwyre, who ignored the seating chart so he could sit in one of the spots reserved for “Best Damn Sports Show Period!” It has always been Dwyre’s goal to be on TV, and at this late stage in his life at least he understands this is as close as he’s going to get.

Lisa Guerrero was sitting in the row directly in front of Dwyre, and when she stood up there was no way Dwyre could see what was taking place on the field. I thought it admirable on his part he never complained.

At the end of the first inning, I stood up so Dwyre could get by me to make his way to the concession stand, knowing his love for hot dogs and the fact it had been 15 minutes since he had eaten last, but he didn’t budge.

A moment later I understood why. Barry Bonds socked a massive home run that was headed directly toward our right-field seats.

Now I can’t tell you for sure what Dwyre was thinking, but I got the impression he was positioning himself to jump over the press table, which would have meant landing on Guerrero, and I guess if you had the chance to get the first and maybe only World Series home run ever hit by the guy who might ultimately go down as baseball’s all-time slugger, you might not act your age either.

Bonds’ ball, however, dropped out of our sight into the right-field tunnel -- just shy of the first press row, and so I told KCAL’s Alan Massengale it was safe and he could get out from under the table.

“That would have been worth at least six figures,” Dwyre said, and if you’re not sure what Dwyre looks like, he’ll be the only sportswriter in the right-field press area tonight wearing a fielder’s glove on each hand.

Now I’ve got to be honest. I was thinking “court case” if Dwyre or I had gotten the ball, or if Dwyre had fallen on top of Guerrero without the ball. And so I got to wondering what really happened to the ball I almost caught?

*

I WENT to the Edison Field basement while the game was still going on, learned Bonds’ massive homer had cleared the dirt in the right-field tunnel, hit the cement and bounced hard into the tailgate of an Anaheim city fire department vehicle.

Major League Baseball announced the ball traveled 418 feet on the fly. As you know from recent labor negotiations, Major League Baseball just makes things up that sound good while never really doing the math, so who knows how far it really went?

After the ball hit the truck’s tailgate, it rolled beneath the vehicle and Anthony Tindall went under to retrieve it.

Now when Bonds hit his 73rd homer, and then again his 600th, the first guy who touched each ball had lost it after someone else took it away. But I can honestly say I never thought about trying to take the ball from Tindall, who is an FBI special agent working here as part of an L.A. SWAT team, because he didn’t look opposed to drawing his sidearm or tossing one of his diversionary grenades.

In fact, for the safety of fans everywhere, I’d recommend all of Bonds’ homers from now on be caught by armed officers packing diversionary grenades, which would prevent our courts from being clogged with “it’s my ball; no, it’s my ball” silly litigation.

I would, however, not recommend Tindall for the job.

“I ran from it,” the tough guy said. “I saw it coming directly to me and put my hands out to catch it, and then said to myself, ‘It’s really cooking,’ and ran from it.”

Obviously he’s got what it takes to play for the Dodgers, but holy J. Edgar Hoover, I’d have thought a trained FBI agent would’ve snared the ball with bare hands.

“I wasn’t wearing my bullet-proof vest,” he said, while pulling the ball out from inside his black SWAT team shirt. “If I had it on, I’d have really gone after it.”

The ball, which was stamped with the official 2002 World Series seal, looked as if it had been beaten up. On one side it had a scuff mark, and on the other side oil picked up from beneath the truck or Jarrod Washburn’s failed attempt to load up the ball.

“It’s a very cool thing,” Tindall said, and that’s when he was told by an Anaheim Stadium guard the ball might be taken away from him by day’s end if someone from Major League Baseball insists -- because he hadn’t bought a ticket.

Tindall, who said he was donating his time to baseball to be part of the security detail here, said, “if they ask for it back, they get it back.”

I told him they wanted it back badly, and I’d deliver it for him.

*

TINDALL SAID he’d wait to hear from a baseball official, or a reporter who has been given a seat in the main press box, before surrendering his prize, “and if I have it only for a few hours,” he said, “it’s still a great thrill.”

Well, I’ve got news for Mr. FBI. I spoke to Tim Mead, the Angels’ VP of communications, and he said, if Tindall got the ball, “he keeps it. And if we see it on Ebay in a few days, God bless him.”

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TODAY’S LAST word comes in e-mail from Cameron Schetter:

“On Leno, Salma Hayek mentioned how disappointed she was her boyfriend didn’t give her a Big George rotisserie grill for her birthday. What were you thinking?”

My wife would find out.

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T.J. Simers can be reached at t.j.simers@latimes.com.