First, you need to understand this is a true story. I couldn’t make this up if I tried. How many times have you had a bird poop on you not once, not twice, but three times? At a ball game? Within five innings? It happened to me at a Nats – White Sox day game on June 5th, 2019. Seriously.

The day starts innocently enough at the Bluejacket Brewery where four of us had lunch and a beer. Morgan and I arrive first, and then Magoo and Evan join us. After lunch, we walk to the park and arrive at our seats in section 219.

As the first inning starts, something hits my head, or actually, my hat on my head. It feels like somebody threw crushed ice from a drink on me. I look up, but no one is there, so I take my hat off to see what hit me. No, it isn’t ice. It’s bird poop. What? I look up again and don’t see anything, and then show my hat to the guys. Everyone is in shock, including the people around us. I mean, what are the odds of getting hit by bird poop at a ball game? As the inning ends, I go to the restroom to wash off my hat. I pass Michael, the usher in our section, and mention jokingly, about the bird and my hat. We both have a bit of a laugh, and I move on.

The game progresses. In the bottom of the third, something hits my shirt and my hat. I look at my shirt. Bird poop. I take off my hat. More bird poop. How is this even possible?! Now people around me, including my so called friends, are laughing. Getting hit once with bird poop is cause for shock. It turns out getting hit twice is cause for laughter. What are the odds of getting hit with bird poop twice? I look up, and this time I see the culprit. There it is, sitting on the ledge directly above me. I call out a couple of times, but the bird doesn’t move, and nobody on the 300 level can hear me. So, I go to the washroom and clean my hat, and my shirt, and then return to my seat. I look up, and the bird is still there. It hasn’t moved.

As the game goes on, I scrunch a bit to the right, but I don’t leave my seat. No bird is going to force me to move. I look up a couple times. The bird hasn’t moved either. We seem to be in a war of wills. And then, in the top of the 5th, something hits the top of my hat. Again. I take off the hat and look, and you guessed it, more bird poop. I look up. Yep, the bird is still there. It hasn’t moved in 5 innings. Now I yell at the bird. It still doesn’t move. My friend Morgan laughingly asks if I’d like him to go up to the third level and see if the staff can do something. Morgan takes off, and goes upstairs. People around me are laughing and saying that I definitely need to play Lotto tonight, as I will win for sure. I go back to the restroom to wash my hat. I pass Michael again and point out my hat. “Michael!” I say. “What the heck is going on? The park is going to hell!”

I wash my hat for the third time. It’s pretty well wet all over now. As I return to my seat, I look up. The bird….is gone! At that exact moment, Morgan shows up and I ask him if he talked with anyone. He answers “Yea. I went up to the 3rd level and found an usher and told him there was a bird crapping on my friend from a lodge directly about section 219. He went in the lodge, saw the bird, and shooed it away.”

We watch a lone pigeon circling endlessly above us, but we don’t know if it’s my bird. The game continues. In the 7th, Michael shows up at our seats with a smile on his face (or maybe a snicker) and a Nats courtesy rep. The courtesy rep gives me a giveaway bag, which included a shirt and a Bobblehead. I thank the rep and put the bag under my seat.

The Nats are up 4-1 until the 8th inning when, of course, their bullpen again collapses and it’s now tied 4-4. Bottom of the 9th…Dozier walks, and who comes up? Trea Turner. Now Turner has struck out three times today, and grounded out once to the shortstop. This time? A walk off dinger!

We all high five each other and head for the exit and our separate ways. As I’m riding home on metro, I open the bag the courtesy rep gave me and look inside. I take a look at the Bobblehead, and who is it? Wait for it…yep, Trea Turner. Karma? Luck? The fates having a fun afternoon? Who knows, but on the drive home, I decide that maybe I should buy those lotto tickets people were mentioning earlier. It can’t hurt.

Addendum:

I did buy three Powerball tickets on the way home and checked the numbers this morning. Nadda….Nothing….Bupkis…. I guess the fates think that Trea hitting the walk off was compensation enough. With the way the Nats have played until recently, maybe they’re right. Still, if as a loyal fan, I can contribute to the team by having a pigeon poop on me three times, I’m in. But, just this once.