An Oral History of the 'Here Comes the Pizza!' Incident*

In the world of Fenway Park pizza-murder, the "Here Comes the Pizza!" incident concerns one slice, but continues to fascinate more than seven years later. If a drunken Red Sox fan has not dropped at least two slices of pizza on the way to his seat, then I was never born. (I admit it is possible that he retrieved the slices and ate them.) This is not to say the popularity of "Here Comes the Pizza!" is unwarranted. It is part of who we are.

The following is an entirely fake oral history of the event, which should be obvious if only because slices of pizza don't talk. I have removed the names of some involved to protect myself from having to look them up.

Cast of Characters

JOHN RATZENBERGER, NARRATOR, CLIFF FROM "CHEERS"

KEVIN PIZZA, A SLICE OF PIZZA, GREAT-(100K)* GRANDSON OF EUELL PIZZA, A SLICE OF PIZZA (DEC.)

DON ORSILLO, RED SOX ANNOUNCER

JERRY REMY, RED SOX ANNOUNCER

PIZZA THROWER

THE TARGET

GARRETT ANDERSON, FORMER ANGELS OUTFIELDER

SCOT SHIELDS, FORMER ANGELS PITCHER

FRANKLIN MORALES, FORMER RED SOX RELIEF PITCHER

J.D. DREW, FORMER RED SOX OUTFIELDER

JACK DONAGHY, PRESIDENT AND CEO, KABLETOWN

Act 1, Scene 1: The pitch

It is Patriots' Day in Boston, in 2007. The Red Sox faithful have come to Fenway Park on a rainy day to see the Sox play the Angels. J.D. DREW is batting in the bottom of the sixth inning. Unbeknownst to him, PIZZA THROWER and THE TARGET have been bickering for innings in the seats just along the left-field line halfway between third base and the Green Monster. SCOT SHIELDS is pitching, and the count is 1-2, with two outs. The Red Sox are leading, 7-1.

SHIELDS: Nap wanted the ball inside, and I missed back over the middle, but J.D. missed it too.

DREW: Oh yeah, I'd love to talk about this. I had a great time in Boston. Anything you want. I missed a meatball? Of course I did.

THE TARGET: As soon as it left Drew's bat. I knew it was coming. I can sense these things. Higher mathematics. You know how it is.

GARRETT ANDERSON: [does not respond to multiple questions]

DREW: By all means, ask me something. You all were so nice to my brother, too. And this is so relevant right now. Please, let's talk. Seven years later.

Act 1, Scene 2: The throw

DON ORSILLO, ON TAPE: Popped up, left side, ranging is Cabrera, now coming is Anderson! And interfered with? No!

PIZZA THROWER: Watch the ball. Watch it. Watch as it descends toward you, and know it will be yours. You sense something is in the air, and you are right, but you don't know. You just don't know.

KEVIN, A SLICE OF PIZZA: It's so hard to watch. I forgot my glasses. Little help?

[RATZENBERGER drops two pepperonis atop of Kevin so that they look like eyes]

KEVIN, A SLICE OF PIZZA: That's better. Yep, there he goes. Poor Euell. I mean, we all know we're gonna go, somehow. But we're food. We're proud of it. This is just tragic. Speaking of tragedies, are we still on for lunch? Yes? Glasses on or off?

THE TARGET: I didn't have any idea it was coming. I'm bad with these things.

Act 1, Scene 3: The frozen moments

JERRY REMY, ON TAPE: What's he got on him? He's got mud on him, and an alcoholic beverage[...] Whoa! What was that that came flying in?

THE TARGET: As you can see in the video, I'm enjoying myself, because someone else got splashed with beer when Anderson crashed into our section. It's funny when people get hit like that. Then I realized that that asshole had thrown his pizza at me. What the hell?

PIZZA THROWER: The throw was pure, perfected through years of training at the academy. Of pizza throwing.

THE TARGET: Good thing he didn't really hit me. Good thing.

ANDERSON: [achieves total consciousness, says telephathically: Hey, man. Sorry about before. I can't do this brainy talky until I'm totally locked in, which is why I never have a facial expression. Ever. I have awards for how few expressions I've made. Thanks! Seriously, you'd never know everything that's going on here, right? Anyhow, I have no comment on the pizza incident, except that you probably won't be hearing from Kevin any more, because I'm going to eat him.]

RATZENBERGER, OUT LOUD: You ate my lunch?

KEVIN: He's just kidding.

ANDERSON, TELEPATHICALLY: As far as you know.

Intermission

Act 2, Scene 1: The absolute losing of shit

We return from commercial instantaneously, or at least we do on the YouTube clip, the substance of which will live for eternity if we are lucky. The sound of ORSILLO barely stifling laughter is the first thing we hear, before REMY launches into an advertisement for a NESN program, which he reads flawlessly.

REMY, PRESENT DAY: (He is smiling.) I was a total professional about the whole thing. Don, on the other hand, couldn't keep himself together. That's because it's pretty clear I come to work every day ready to go, whereas Don comes bogged down with three pounds of chicken parm. Get all those sugars in you and that's-you're not healthy, prone to hysterics. Am I saying Don is hysterical? (He is laughing now.) I'm not saying anything. Check the tape. We've got replay now. He can challenge if he wants! (He loses it, falling out of his chair.)

MORALES: Hey guys, remember me! Here's my two cents on "Pizzagate." I don't like hot pizza. I like cold pizza at breakfast. I order pizza fairly often now, and I usually put it straight into the fridge, which is the only way to do it. I prefer cold pizza.

DONAGHY, PRESIDENT OF KABLETOWN: Better than hot pizza? That's insane.

REMY, ON TAPE: Don, between innings we did some investigative reporting, and who-and what was thrown at that gentleman, and that [other] gentleman has been ejected. It was an ugly, ugly sight, and I don't know why it was necessary: I can't circle, I don't have my telestrator, but HERE COMES THE PIZZA! See it?

ORSILLO ON TAPE: [releases a breath, tries to keep it together]

REMY, ON TAPE: Oh! (EUELL PIZZA hits THE TARGET on replay) Jeez!

ORSILLO, ON TAPE: Highly unnecessary!

REMY, ON TAPE: It's the guy with the Patriots jacket, and he's been asked to leave the game for ruining a perfectly good slice of pizza.

KEVIN: Am I perfectly good? I don't know. But if I'm half the slice that Euell was, I'd be shocked. Mostly because I'm from a small pie. But also in the, like, honorable way.

ORSILLO, PRESENT DAY: Check it out! (He eats KEVIN.) Is there any more?

MORALES: Yes, but it's cold.

Act 2, Scene 2: The legacy

REMY: It's a legendary moment. It's the only thing people outside of New England know about me, I'm pretty sure. I'm just glad I handled myself better than Don over here.

ORSILLO: [laughs too hard to respond]

PIZZA THROWER: I'm out there. Watching. Waiting. You could be next. Any one of you could be next.

THE TARGET: They did an interview with me, and you didn't even bother to find out my name?

ANDERSON, TELEPATHICALLY: #benghazi

DREW: Sorry to give you just a hard time. So what do you want to talk about?

RATZENBERGER: Well, that's it for our story. Things seemed to've worked out pretty good for Remy and Orsillo, and it was a pretty good story, dontcha think? Made me laugh to beat the band. Parts anyway. Course-I didn't like seeing Kevin go. But then, I happen to know that there's a little Kevin Pizza on the way. I guess that's' the way the whole darned human comedy keeps perpetuatin' itself, down through the generations, westward the wagons, across the sands a time until-aw, look at me, I'm ramblin' again. I hope you folks enjoyed yourselves. Catch you further on down the trail. Say bartender, got any of that good sarsaparilla?

TED DANSON AS SAM MALONE, IN UNCREDITED ROLE: Sure do, Cliffy.

RATZENBERGER: I'm just kidding. Another brewski, please.

THE END

* The Pizza Genealogical Association denotes the huge distances between generations of slices like this; with multiple generations being annihilated every game at Fenway, it's an inexact science. The association, also known as the PGA, is the sponsor of the PGA Tour.