It seems crazy that this needs to be said in 2016, but here we go: Leave Steve Bartman alone.
With the Chicago Cubs in the midst of their most successful playoff run in decades, Bartman's name has come up quite a bit from fans around baseball who want to see him incorporated into the festivities surrounding the team's first World Series appearance in over 70 years.
Bartman, of course, is the infamous Cubs fan who was forced into exile after interfering with a foul ball at Wrigley Field during the 2003 NLCS. With the Cubs leading 3-0 and just five outs away from winning their first National League pennant since 1945, Bartman -- seated in the first row along the left-field foul line -- reached over the railing and tried to catch the ball, preventing Chicago outfielder Moises Alou from potentially recording the inning's second out.
Instead, the Marlins capitalized on the break and mounted a ferocious rally, scoring eight runs in the inning and winning the game 8-3. Florida went on to win Game 7 the next day, eliminating the Cubs and, ultimately, going on to win the World Series.
The long-suffering Cubs fanbase turned their anger and disappointment on one of their own, blaming Bartman for the team's failure even though he wasn't directly responsible for the eight-run implosion, or the loss the following day. Images of his face -- vacant, as livid fans around him hurled insults and debris at him for doing what many in his position would have also done -- became the poster of yet another heartbreaking failure for the Cubs
In the aftermath, Bartman's name, address and phone number were all posted online. Amid death threats and vitriol, he was forced into seclusion. Frustrated Cubs fans looked at Bartman's interference as the first domino to fall in the collapse, and the life that he knew was ruined because of it.
Flash-forward to 2016 and a long list of people want Bartman to return to the scene of the crime and throw out the first pitch before the Cubs take on the Indians at Wrigley. One of the names on that list is Cleveland second baseman Jason Kipnis, an Illinois native who lived down the street from Bartman growing up.
And Kipnis isn't necessarily wrong. Fans would go wild and it has the potential to be a really cool moment for baseball, but a reunion between Bartman and the Cubs should be more about Bartman than Cubs fans or baseball. This isn't about Cubs fans forgiving Steve Bartman, it should be about Steve Bartman forgiving Cubs fans -- but only if he wants to.
Not surprisingly, it seems he has no interest.
From the moment that he realized he had screwed up, the man has asked for nothing but to be left alone. He has refused to capitalize on the incident, turning down TV appearances, speaking engagements and autograph requests that would have netted him hundreds of thousands of dollars.
Because of the cruel way he was treated and the manner in which his life was unfairly flipped upside down, nobody could blame Bartman for finding a silver lining in the mess and using it to get rich. Instead, he's stayed in the shadows just hoping that everybody would forget about him and move on.
And yet, for some reason, there's still a refusal to let him have that peace.
The calls to have him throw out the first pitch or be celebrated in any way seem more like a need for a ceremonial purging of guilt rather than a genuine act of forgiveness. Bartman has made it clear that he doesn't want redemption or pity, but fans still want to feel better about themselves for having ruined his life.
It's grossly ironic because in their quest to expunge culpability, fans are ignoring his one and only request and just making it worse.
But whether Bartman likes it or not, the incident has made him a part of baseball history. With the Cubs finally reaching the World Series, that history is being retold now, making him relevant once again. But don't mistake that relevance for an obligation to relive the moment. Bartman doesn't owe anybody a damn thing.
