Chicago fan Bartman goes from Cubs goat to antihero

CHICAGO — Two months ago, Steve Bartman was baseball's Public Enemy No. 1. A hapless ballhawk blamed for the Chicago Cubs' latest misery, the image of his outstretched hand made him the butt of jokes nationwide.

Hounded by the media, Bartman has done seemingly everything in his power to stay out of the spotlight. But in that quintessential American way, he's become a pop culture antihero.

There are shirts with his likeness on the Internet. A trading card complete with a fake swatch of his bright green turtleneck. And that infamous ball? It was just auctioned for $106,600.

"When you say the Bartman ball, most people have seen that game. Even people who aren't baseball fans," said Brian Marren, vice president of acquisitions for MastroNet Inc., the auction house that sold the ball.

"It gets embedded in people's minds."

For those few who don't remember, Bartman was the Cubs fan who unwittingly deflected a foul ball away from Moises Alou in Game 6 of the National League championship series. The ball ricocheted back into the stands, and the Cubs' World Series dreams disappeared right along with it.

The Florida Marlins, down 3-0 at the time, rallied in the inning to win the game. The Marlins went on to win Game 7 and advance to the World Series, where they beat the New York Yankees.

Bartman was blamed for the Cubs' demise, the newest goat in the team's sad lore. Never mind that Chicago blew a 3-1 lead in the series. Or that sure-handed shortstop Alex Gonzalez committed an error that loaded the bases that fateful night. Or that Bartman did what any other fan would have done.

In a society where placing the blame is a constant game, Bartman was a very convenient target.

"That's not what lost it for us," Cubs manager Dusty Baker said, defending Bartman at baseball's winter meetings. "That's what stood out at the time, but Gonzo made an error, and Gonzo never makes an error.

"Sometimes that shows you maybe it was not meant to be."

Bartman has done his best to fade into oblivion since releasing an apology the day after Game 6. Unlike those who capitalize on their misfortune, you won't find Bartman shilling his outfit on the Internet or taking a sledgehammer to that infernal ball. He's changed his phone number, and messages to him go unreturned.

But for better or worse, his place in pop culture seems destined to stretch beyond his allotted 15 minutes.