I have nothing but empathy for this guy who botched three foul balls last night

Couldn't possibly have a worse night at a game then this guy @BarstoolBigCat @BarstoolJJ @KFCBarstool pic.twitter.com/B04C60EdFJ

— Jay Relay (@JayRelay) September 30, 2015

First of all I can't imagine a more perfect idea for a first date.  Impress her with a few Legends Suite seats on the third base line to a late September game that you don't really have to pay attention to cause it doesn't really mean anything.  You casually drop some comprehensive knowledge of baseball on her throughout the night cause the setting is right and all of the sudden she thinks you're a competent individual who's worthy of a second date and/or an OTPHJ during Kate Smith's rendition of God Bless America.

That is of course unless you bungle three opportunities at a foul ball in front of her.  There's no coming back from that.  If it was once, fine.  You can spin that in a goofy, loveable way.  Everyone has a good laugh and you've generated a lasting, funny memory between you and your date.  Not the worst thing in the world.  But you've got to field that second one to let her know you're still a man.  I don't care if it took a tough hop.  Corral it in with your body.  Use your chest.  Whatever it takes.

Once he was hit with that second error you knew it was over.  His mind was all over the place.  The ball boy could have walked over and handed him that third one and he would have took it off his forehead.  At that point I think you just have to leave cause there's no way to spin your lack of fielding ability into any kind of endearing quality.  She now knows you're a full-blown spazz and that's it.  Which is why my heart bleeds for this guy.  He could've been any of us.  We all think we're ready for the big time until the bright lights come on.  When I was 17 Hideki Matsui hit a foul ball into the upperdeck directly at me and it bounced off my collarbone and into my friend's lap.  Ball was in the air for about 30 seconds and I still couldn't get a read on it.  If I was trying to trick a girl into thinking I was a cool guy it would take no more than three foul balls to fully expose me.