Several years ago, following a long afternoon and evening in the outfield, the lights had finally been turned off at DNF and a buddy and me were still out there drinking (and had been drinking for a LONG time). We hopped the fence and he went in the dugout and found a bat and a few balls. He, being a former college player, wanted to hit a few balls from just behind the infield for ***** and giggles. He persuaded me to throw some to him even though you could not see a damn thing two feet in front of you, which made me kind of nervous since he could swing a bat pretty well. I said don't hit me sumbitch and he assured me he would not so, drunk as I was, I obliged.
He proceeds to scatter a few balls around the outfield when all of a sudden we see a very faint light coming down the steps in the grandstand. I decided it would be a good time to go shag those balls and hop the fence. Left him hanging. The faint light was a huge cigar from guess who? Ron walks out to him and says, "What are you doing???" My buddy says, "Oh, we were just hitting a few balls, Coach." Polk says, and I quote, "Well, just don't tear anything up" and walks off. My buddy tells him, "Well, we are through now anyway" to which Ron turns around and says, "I think that is a good idea".