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A night to remember — and forget

Trip to see son’s favorite player marred by gunfire

By Greg Johnston

The school year is once again upon us and, as with every other year, the staff reconvenes in the hallways, classrooms and offices.

Reconnecting often leads to the proverbial “How was your summer?”

Idle chit-chat becomes more in depth and before you know it, you are sharing things like, “Well, as a belated-birthday present my son and I went to a baseball game in D.C. to see his beloved Padres play the Nationals.”

It was Saturday, July 17, and Dylan’s favorite player, Fernando Tatis Jr., was having a great night, going 3-for-3 and showcasing his talents in the field.

It would be a night to remember — and a night we would never forget.

Not for the electricity on the field but for what would happen less than 200 feet from where we sat. It was the sixth inning. The Padres were winning, and since we were sitting a few rows behind their dugout, people were stoked.

Suddenly, I heard something that sounded like two quick bursts from an automatic weapon.

I turned around and asked the folks behind us if they heard that. Some said it must have been thunder. Others, including my son, didn’t hear anything.

I said, “No, that was gunfire.”

I took a quick look around and saw people hiding behind their seats, while others crouched or went to their hands and knees, some walking slowly, others crawling across aisles in front of or behind cement walls.

At this point, nobody could tell where the sound had come from.

My only concern was that we weren’t safe ducking behind our seats, so I shielded my son with my body and led him down three aisles to an usher, who was ducking behind a seat. Figuring he may have heard on his communications device, I asked him “Were the gunshots inside the ballpark?”

Everybody around us said it was. Some were weeping with concern.

Fearing the worst, I jumped over the nearest wall, down 8-10 feet and told Dylan to follow me. He did not hesitate and jumped into my arms.

All I heard at this point was the usher telling us we couldn’t go that way because it was a restricted area. Seconds later, I would find out why it was restricted: We were at the tunnel entrance to the Padres clubhouse.

There, standing 12 feet away, was Tatis Jr., who had just sprinted off the field with his teammates.

It was a welcome sight for multiple reasons. One, it distracted Dylan from what was going on, and two, I felt there was no safer place in the building than with the players.

Within seconds, one of the umpires walked by and handed Dylan a baseball. That was distraction No. 2. It was that ball, the sight of Fernando Tatis Jr. so close to us, and me telling Dylan everything was going to be OK that allowed him to fight off tears and show strength.

My 9-year-old wanted three things to happen that night — two of which were a long shot. He wanted a Padres’ victory, he wanted a baseball, and he wanted Tatis to sign it.

We were close to Tatis, but baseball icons become a little less relevant to dads when we think we’re feet away from a live shooter.

Others started showing up in that same tunnel, at which point somebody shut the door to the clubhouse. Moments later, we heard the public service address announcer say the shots were fired outside the building and that we were safe.

At this point, the area above us on the street, was a crime scene. Three people had been shot, and police were everywhere. The police presence allowed me to feel safe enough to leave.

The night was young, and Dylan wanted to see the White House. Wanting to accommodate, I drove across town, and while en route, we heard two, single gunshots below us on the street while crossing a bridge, followed by a police siren.

Dylan did not know what to think, and neither did I.

The three-hour ride home was spent fielding questions about why someone would want to hurt somebody at a baseball game and the circumstances surrounding gang violence.

Of all the questions in this world we ask, why is the most difficult to answer.

Greg Johnston is a paraprofessional at Frankstown Elementary School. He resides in Hollidaysburg.

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