VI.

Pagan said that from the moment he was charged, he intended to plead guilty. His expectation was that the case would be resolved by Christmas or early in the new year.

But the case went through multiple delays and postponements — and all the while, Pagan had to remain silent, on his lawyer’s advice (although some brief quotes did make it into a Toronto Sun story early on). It was a kind of purgatory.

In the weeks after leaving Postmedia, Pagan cobbled together some work. He had already been doing part-time shifts at a landscape supply yard, and his boss, eager to help him out, gave him more hours.

Pagan also started delivering pizza for Domino’s.

He continued to play hockey in the evenings, and in March, he started full-time work as a recycling attendant for a third-party contractor at an industrial site.

He felt he couldn’t really move on with his life and career until he knew his legal fate. Friends and family talked about Pagan’s sharp humour, but I saw no real evidence of it. He was unfailingly kind, but more than anything, Pagan exuded a wariness.

Mike Pagan said the incident has changed his brother.

“You don’t like to talk about this stuff because it does kind of choke me up, but he lost his confidence,” he said. “For a while, he didn’t want to go out in public because he was ‘that guy,’ and he thought everyone recognized him as ‘that guy.’”

Ken Pagan admitted that since the beer toss, he has felt uneasy in larger groups of people he doesn’t know and often finds himself wondering what — if anything — they know about his past.

In May, he pleaded guilty to mischief. The Crown was seeking a conviction on the basis of “denunciation and deterrence,” which carries a sentence of up to two years in prison.

During the sentencing on June 28, Pagan’s lawyer argued that the act had been completely out of character and that he had already suffered enough. Then Pagan went in front of the judge to read his apology, the first time he had spoken in public since the incident.

“I am truly sorry, and I am working hard to be the best person I can be.”

He did so with a slight tremor in his voice and hands.

Acknowledging that he was “lucky” that “nobody was injured” in the incident, Pagan said, “I have been a passionate baseball fan since getting hooked as an eight-year-old in the summer of 1983, and I am fully aware of the disgrace I brought to the game.”

He concluded by saying, “I am truly sorry, and I am working hard to be the best person I can be.”

Ironically, the online shaming actually worked in Pagan’s favour. Acknowledging the public humiliation he had endured, the judge gave Pagan a discharge conditional on a year of probation. In that time, Pagan will have to perform 100 hours of community service and will be banned from all MLB stadiums.

Some commentators have speculated that the reaction to Pagan’s action was part of a broader strategy of deterrence to rein in bad fan behaviour at MLB games.

(Evan Mitsui/CBC)

In recent years, there have been other high-profile examples of belligerence, such as in Game 5 of the 2015 American League Division Series — i.e. the Bautista bat-flip game — in which a young child was reportedly hit by a beer can in the seats behind home plate.

There have also been reports of racial taunting of opposing players. In May, officials at Fenway Park in Boston permanently banned a fan for using a racial slur in the stadium.

The Blue Jays organization refused to comment further on the Pagan incident. MLB wouldn’t agree to an interview, either, but in an email statement, spokesman Michael Teevan said, “We prioritize the safety of our on-field personnel and the fans who visit our ballparks, and we hope that deterrents will prevent such episodes in the future.”

* * *

The incident in October obviously threw Pagan’s life into turmoil, but he’s in a good place now. For one thing, he has full-time work, having recently taken a salaried position as a janitorial supervisor at his recycling job.

“I think there are people out there who think I have been sitting on a couch for nine months or gone into hiding and my life is destroyed. In fact, my life has been close to normal,” he said.

“I am a busy guy with some positive things happening, so my life may have been impacted by social media, but it hasn't been ruined.”

And then there’s his relationship with baseball itself. You would assume that for someone so enamoured of the game, being banned from MLB would be crushing. But Pagan is sanguine about it.

Sitting next to Kantautas in his backyard on a warm July evening, he said he felt the ban was “pretty appropriate” and that he had “no issues” with it.

“Would you even want to go to a baseball game in the next year?” Kantautas asked him. “I’d be scared for you, that someone would recognize you and do something stupid.” Pagan silently concurred.

He may be barred from big-league games, but Pagan said there’s an upshot to his new circumstances: He has more time for amateur baseball. He plays with or assists local teams most nights of the week.

One recent evening, he provided an extra hand to the Burlington Bulls, an under-21 team.

Pagan helps coach the Burlington Bulls, an under-21 team. (Evan Mitsui/CBC)

While the young men showed off their cocky athleticism and repertoire of wisecracks, Pagan moved almost silently among them. Decked out in a ballcap and “Burlington Baseball” hoodie, he hit ground balls for the fielders and helped chalk the baselines during practice. During the game, he coached baserunners and marked the lineup card.

Between innings, Pagan spoke repeatedly about the “great atmosphere.” The comment seemed banal at first, but it distilled his reverence for the sport, down to the most mundane detail.

That reverence is apparent anytime he’s near the field: He can’t stop smiling.

Despite everything, Pagan still loves the sport.

“I have to respect the game. I do respect the game,” he said stoically. “I just had a weak moment.”