Shirley Bi had to see for herself. For more than two years, she has dated Greg Barasch, a guy she knows as thoughtful and dependable, a guy who works as director of a Manhattan afterschool math program.
The only thing about him that seemed downright exotic was his fascination with baseballs caught, run down or otherwise brought home from big league parks.
Barasch, 30, is part of an international fraternity whose members describe themselves as “ballhawks.” The fact that he and good friend Benjamin Weil, 35, are in Buffalo through this weekend's Toronto-Tampa Bay series is a kind of ultimate tribute to what is happening at Sahlen Field.
Google their names, and you quickly understand their ballhawk stature. They have been to every major league park in the nation, usually at least twice, and to many big league games abroad. In every case, they have gone home with a ball, most often more than one – maybe as the result of batting practice, or a player flipping one into the stands, or by coming up with a home run or foul ball.
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In the instant the pandemic caused the Blue Jays to announce they would play home games in Buffalo, the list for Barasch and Weil was no longer complete — because Sahlen Field is now a big league park, and they had never been here.
Ballhawks Benjamin Weil, left, and Greg Barasch, right, traveled from New York City to pursue baseballs outside Sahlen.
"This might be the last time you'll see the major leagues in Buffalo," said Weil, a travel agent and legendary collector who quickly made plans with Barasch to drive to Sahlen Field for the games this week. Mike Bernola, Weil's college roommate years ago at SUNY Geneseo, stopped by to observe with bemused appreciation as a buddy from Queens who in many ways is your standard old-friend-from-college turned all his energy toward hunting baseballs.
As for Bi, a lawyer in New York, it was the first time she joined Barasch while he "ballhawked" on the road.
“I just want to see them in their natural element,” said Bi, watching from a lawn chair as Weil and Barasch did their stuff.
Mike Bernola, Benjamin Weil and Greg Barash outside Sahlen Field on Wednesday evening, during the Toronto-Miami game.
They set up on a patch of grass behind an Oak Street sidewalk, with dark green tarp and netting between them and left field. Inside Sahlen, the Blue Jays and Marlins were locked in a frenzy of Wednesday night offense, resulting in 32 total hits and a 14-11 extra-inning Miami victory.
The ballhawks, unable to see the field, listened for the distinct crack of all eight home runs hit in the game. Some shots climbed so high into the lights that Barasch and Weil — always wearing baseball gloves — thought the balls would clear the net.
Not quite, though they reacted each time in split-second fashion, sidestepping with the light-footed urgency of outfielders in response to the ball's arc.
Far to their south, on the other side of Seneca Street, they could see the spot that worries Buffalo police, where fans balanced precariously on an Interstate 190 on-ramp railing that offered a better view. Throughout the night, officers en route to chasing off those fans lifted their hands in greeting to Weil, Barasch and Bi, all masked and seated quietly on lawn chairs safely behind the sidewalk.
“It’s not us they’re worried about,” said Weil, though he understands any surge in spectators at his favorite location could eventually bring similar police reaction.
They sat at a socially distanced 15 feet or so from 20-year-old Josh Gleberman of Cincinnati and his dad, Myron. Josh played a year of college baseball, and he and his father, both Reds fans, are dedicated ballhawks. They met Weil and Barasch before, shaking hands – in the days when such things happened – as the Tigers and Royals played a regulation game in Omaha.
While the Glebermans hoped that a blast might clear the net, Barasch and Weil already had their balls from Buffalo. They were there Tuesday when the Blue Jays took batting practice, when at least six shots made it out of the park.
As they watched Wednesday, their phones hummed from time to time. Josh kept hearing from fellow ballhawks in Toronto, who were unable to cross the border and wished they could be at Sahlen. During long spells of nothing, unable to see anything except the scoreboard, the little group killed time by explaining their strategies.
Barasch had a clothesline attached to a weighted plastic cup covered with duct tape, sticky side out. When a foul ball rolls to some spot seemingly impossible to reach, you throw down the cup and boom: The ball sticks inside.
While the two friends are Mets fans by upbringing – Weil and Barasch met years ago, in a swirling crowd of ballhawks at Citi Field — they bring caps to every park to match whatever two teams are playing, an approach that does not always endear them to local fans. They switch caps based on the proximity of players in the field, knowing a player from, say, Toronto is more apt to flip a foul ball to someone in a Blue Jays cap.
Weil said his original goal, years ago, was simply visiting every major league stadium. He happened to be at a then-Florida Marlins game in 2008 when only 600 fans showed up. It allowed him to move freely between seats. At one point he was so close to the field that Florida catcher John Baker flipped him a baseball and triggered an epiphany.
“I had it in my hand, and I just had this feeling of ‘Oh, my God, I have a ball from the major leagues,’” Weil said. “From that moment on, the feeling overwhelmed me.”
The result? When Weil married his wife, Jennifer, five years ago, they used authentic big league balls as table favors. Weil suspects there is a chance – just a chance – that Jennifer did not mind unloading some of the hundreds of balls he has at home.
Ballhawks Benjamin Weil, right, and Greg Barasch, left, play catch outside Sahlen Field in Buffalo.
Ballhawks of quality, he said, adhere to a code: You do not sell balls, and children always get priority. Still, among the ballhawks themselves — within the sprawling group that follows such websites as www.mygameballs.com — it is typically may-the-best-man-or-woman-win.
Weil's favorite story involves a 2019 game between the Houston Astros and Los Angeles Angels, in Monterrey. While wearing an Angels cap, Barasch snared a foul ball off the bat of Astro Yuli Gurriel. A little later, in an Astros cap, Barasch stretched out for a nice grab of a homer by Albert Pujols, while something clicked for the Fox broadcasters at the game.
Realizing both catches were made by the same guy, they patched together a video Barasch and Weil keep on their phones.
"They have a lot of balls," Bi deadpanned of her boyfriend and his pal, a statement of truth based on any interpretation.
The pandemic, the ballhawks said, all but shut them down. But the Toronto announcement makes Buffalo only the 15th city in baseball history to host big league teams at least for a time in each of the 19th, 20th and 21st centuries — credit that tidbit to the Hall of Fame archives, in Cooperstown — and Barasch and Weil knew they had to go to Sahlen Field.
Ballhawks Myron Gleberman, left, and his son Joshua Gleberman, right, stand on an Elm Street sidewalk, near Sahlen Field.
Josh Gleberman said he and his dad try to take in some sights on these journeys — in this case, Niagara Falls and the Buffalo Bills stadium — but the main draw is always the ballpark.
“The rush is knowing you’re taking home a piece of a major league game, that you’re a part of it, and that never gets old,” Josh said.
Before Covid-19, Weil and Barasch planned to be in Iowa this week for a special game between the Yankees and White Sox at a diamond-by-a-cornfield made famous as the "Field of Dreams."
The event, like so many others, was lost to the pandemic. Yet for ballhawks long acquainted with all existing big league parks, this summer's "ball of dreams" must clear the wall, in Buffalo.
