The Apocryphal Chris Sartinsky, 1

The first in a series of questionable stories from those who claim to have known Chris Sartinsky before he became famous for blowing the whistle on dangerous pH levels in the water at Governor Hill Fish Hatchery in Augusta, Maine. Chris was recently killed in a tragic honeybee accident.

Chris and I were on the same Little League team in--it must have been 1995 or so. I think I was in fourth grade and he was in fifth grade, I know he was a year older than me. We were on the Padres. I know Chris like being on the Padres, because he liked the logo, with the brown hats and the orange SD for San Diego. I think that was the first year they started using real Major League hats instead of the old ones, which would have just been the letter P on a cheap old hat.

Anyway, Chris usually played third base and I usually played shortstop, and I think he was a little bit jealous. I could always--I remember him going up to our coach and asking to switch so that he could play shortstop, but the coach always said "Next time, next time." Chris was a real whiner, he would complain constantly. Always in this real nasally voice. If there were bugs, and there were basically always bugs, he would complain that they were only flying around him, even though that was clearly not true. And so I let him borrow my bug spray once and he said he got it in his eyes and that it was sticky, and then he said it didn't even keep the bugs away, and on and on. He went on all game that night. I told him to shut up, and I could tell he got all embarrassed and tried to play it off like he was joking, but he really wanted to complain some more, I could tell.

So one day, for whatever reason, the coach puts the lineups on the fence and he tells Chris that he's going to let him pitch in the fourth inning. Which was strange, obviously, because Chris had never thrown a pitch in his life and had never asked to pitch. I was the one who had wanted to pitch, see. So now he's prancing around, talking about how he's going to throw his fastball and his screwball and how he's going to strike everyone out. Really rubbing it in, I could tell he was enjoying it.

So the fourth inning rolls around, and he gets up to the mound and he throws his first pitch and it's in the dirt, about two feet in front of the plate. Ball one. Next pitch, he throws it in there, again, it's in the dirt in front of the plate, ball two. And another and another and he walks the kid on four pitches. He didn't even have the arm strength to get it over the plate--to the plate, even. The closest thing to a strike was one that bounced up on a stone and was just a couple inches below the strike zone, the kid almost took a cut at it but thought better of it. Next batter comes up, four more in the dirt, he can't reach the plate. Walks the third batter, the same way, and he steps off the rubber and starts scratching at his head with his cap and blowing into his pitching hand like he's seen the players do on TV. That was another annoying thing he did, he was always mimicking the Major League players. He'd be in the batter's box three times longer than everyone else because he was spitting everywhere and digging his cleats in the dirt and hitting the plate and all that nonsense. Everyone else, they just stood in there and waited for the pitches. With him, it was a big show.

So anyway, the coach sees that Chris isn't going to step back onto the mound, so he trots out there to see how he's feeling. I couldn't hear much of anything, but I just see Chris looking down and shaking his head. He was sweating and he looked like he was going to cry. The coach didn't want to take him out, though, for whatever reason, so it was up to Chris. Well the next batter steps up, Chris fires it in there top speed, it reaches the catcher's glove without bouncing off the dirt, but it's still a ball. Next three were the same way and he walks in a run. He's flustered now, so the next kid comes up, he throws the first pitch and it's wild, so a run scores. And then Chris forgets to cover home like the pitcher's supposed to so two more runs score.

At this point, Chris has just had it and storms off the field. He pointed his pointer finger up in the air like he was real mad in front of our coach and walked over to the swingset next to the field and started kicking the hell out of it. I didn't know what the pointer finger was all about at the time, but now I think he was trying to flip us off but got the finger wrong or something.

So the coach brings in the right fielder to pitch, and meanwhile there's no right fielder because Chris is still flipping out and won't get back onto the field. He's kicking everything, basically, making a big racket so that everyone would notice him. He tried to swear, but he didn't really know any. I very specifically remember him yelling "DUMB BAXTER!" Somehow, this team was able to keep dropping the ball into the opposite field, into right, so that they just jogged around the bases because no one was covering right.

While all this is going on, we're just trying to play the game, and after an inning or two, everyone forgets about him. And all of a sudden, we hear glass shatter and a car alarm starts going off. Well the coach gets up and sees that the window in his car broke and starts sprinting towards the parking lot. And all us kids followed, right in the middle of the inning, because we figured it was Chris and wanted to see what he had done. We all run out there and he's standing on top of the coach's white car, blood dripping down from his hands, because I guess he's just punched in the window or something. Both hands, like he punched with both fists at once. And the blood's just dripping down his arms and he's just standing on the hood with his mouth open, staring into space, like he's possessed or something. Blood's dripping onto the hood. He's real freaked out, he's terrified, he probably thinks he's going to die right there in front of everyone.

So for whatever reason, the coach leaps up there and tackles him and kind of covers him like he was rescuing him in a fire or something, but we could all see it was real aggressive, right onto the hood of the car. But they slip off, of course, and Chris slams his head right on the dirt--I guess he's real lucky it was a dirt parking lot. That snaps him out of it and now he's even crazier than before. He starts swinging at the coach and hitting him with his wrists--that's the best I can describe it. It was strange. So he's hitting the coach with his wrists--he's on top of the coach now, because they got flipped over, kind of pawing at him with his wrists, but real hard, and he was making real impact. And there's blood dripping all over the coach's face, and I think a little bit dripped in the coach's mouth--it was real gruesome--so now the coach is flipping out and screaming and flailing around. Finally, this fat kid who was on our team, Eddie, comes over, just strolls over to the melee and just slugs Chris right in the face, full force. Chris is out cold. By now the ambulance is here, so they just load him on and he never came back to Little League. I don't know if he was banned or what, but he never came back.