R.I.P. Matt Hersl, who set the standard for OPACY “ball hawks”

Pictured – Matt is on the right in the top row.

I do not think I have ever had to write something like this before. I never wanted to; no one does.

Today, Matt Hersl, a Camden Yards friend, a regular who attended every game and spent every batting practice in the left field stands racing after every baseball that cleared the fence, was killed today outside City Hall as a speeding car flipped off the road and struck him.

Matt found true excitement in baseball, the Orioles, and ball hawking. He loved to take home as many baseballs from games as he could, and he tried to get them in every way imaginable.

When the gates opened at five o’clock, Matt tried to be the first one through the turnstiles and into the left field seats. More times than not, he was the first one, even if he showed up only five minutes before. And if a ticket scanner was slower than he liked, Matt would run through the gates anyway, ticket unscanned, even though he had about five for that game. They saw him every time, but never caught him. And when Camden Yards used to make their season ticket holders enter from right field and go around the entire stadium in order to get to left field, Matt would run through the seats faster than all the other ball hawks who were less than half his age, even if he just spent the last five minutes outside the gates telling us he was “taking it easy today,” because he was sore from the day before.

Matt never took it easy.

During batting practice, Matt only had one speed. He was the oldest of the regulars, but he tried harder than everyone combined. Of course, because of that came confrontations with parents who felt he was unfairly robbing their children of chances to catch their own baseballs. We all heard people curse Matt’s name after his 4^th, 5^th, or 9^th baseball of the day, or after he picked a ball up off the ground before the kids around him could. Sometimes he did go a little too hard, but we all knew he meant well. All he wanted was baseballs, many of which he gave to his nephews.

In recent years, “food for balls?” became his favorite question to ask me during games. Matt was keen to all the goings-on of Camden Yards; that’s what happens when you attend 81 games a year. Throughout all those games, he collected every colored bracelet that the All You Can Eat Sections in the 200-level of left field gave to fans that paid for those seats. He would go up there, see what color bracelets they were giving out, match the color on his wrist, and fill up on food. He would then bring me food: numerous hot dogs, multiple cups of ice cream, and handfuls of peanuts. Sometimes he even threw in a soda. All he wanted in return was a couple baseballs. It was a dream for a starving college student who just went from school to the game without even a snack.

And if you wanted an extra giveaway, Matt was your man. You just better have had a baseball or two. If you needed a ticket, forget the box office, Matt had plenty. When I was without a ticket last Saturday night, Matt said he would give me two if I bought him three student-priced tickets for April 19^th against the Dodgers.

On that Friday night, and for the rest of the season, when his usual batting practice spot in the fourth row is open, and more baseballs than usual are falling idly into the seats, everyone will be thinking of Matt.

All I hope now is that he is in a place where the gates always open at exactly five o’clock, the batters hit every pitch over the fence, and they all are easy catches. And don’t worry about taking it easy, Matt. We all know you won’t.