I booed Soria on 17 Sept 2016. I heckled him. I am embarrassed by that behavior, and deeply regret it. Let this serve as my public, general apology to the team and a public, specific apology to Joakim Soria.

During the seventh inning while Soria was warming up, I heckled him. I saw him warming up, and immediately was consumed by anger. Here was the man who shared either the most of, or first amongst equals, blame for the reason the Royals were not going to return to the postseason in 2016. Soria, of the most meltdowns in MLB this year. Third worst WPA amongst relievers. Eight worst ERA in high leverage situations. Most losses out of the Royal's bullpen. Nearly every other spectator around me in section 214-210 and 110-114 groaned at the sight of Joakim Soria warming up. I couldn't help it. I immediately yelled "Sit back down Soria. We don't want to lose," before I could think it over. Joakim stopped his throwing motion and looked up. At that moment, all I could see was pain and anguish on his face, or at least that's what I believe I saw as I thought he looked right at me.

Here is a man with the weight of an entire city's disappointment and anger on his conscious. He probably fondly remembers his glory days of old, when he would enter from that same bullpen to close out a hard-to-come-by win for those dark days. He would take the mound with supreme confidence, and devastate hitters with a filthy curve. I remember those days fondly, and maybe that is why it upsets me so much to watch each and every implosion from this man. I know the heights he achieved, when he was Holland and Herrera before they were household names. And here I am, booing this man before he has a chance to do anything. What am I doing? How is this going to help tonight? How is this going to help his confidence, which has been shredded?

Soria finished warming up. Dillion Gee allowed two hitters to reach base. One out. Top of the Eighth. Royals up 3 -1. Ned Yost exits the dugout, and an eerie hush falls upon Kauffman Stadium that I haven't heard for over a year since Game 7, 2014 World Series.

Bottom of the 9th, two outs, Alex Gordon ninety feet from home. Madison Bumgarner on the mound, facing Salvador Perez. Perez pops up a ball on the infield in foul territory to Pablo Sandoval. As that ball slowly climbed into the night off of Salvy's bat, a hush fell over the stadium, and me. I was directly behind home plate, on the upper deck, two rows back. It's a sound that I'll never forget.Nor a sight, as I witnessed that ball slowly ascended to its peak, hang in the air, and return to the field of play. It felt as if a dozens minutes ticked by. A complete silence enveloped Kauffman for that moment. Then an anguished shriek was released that overtook the stadium as the Giants claimed that title.

Ned Yost signals to the bullpen, and Soria begins to move towards the gate to the bullpen. He hesitates before crossing the threshold, head down. Is he fearful? Bracing himself? Afraid? Anxious? Gun shy? He knows the boos are waiting for him. Why did I then boo again? I'm not a quiet guy when I project my voice. My MTIs at Maxwell AFB took care of that. Soria though, displayed real courage crossing that threshold; he knew what awaited him, and Ned. I screamed out "Try not to choke this game away too Soria!" Then the boos began, and I was one of the first. I didn't stop until he reached the mound.

Alex Gordon had to walk right by the mob of Giants players celebrating their third World Series in five years. Salvy sulked back to the dugout, taking one last look back. Alex walked right by this pile of players, as joyful and exuberant as any, as he walked back to the dugout. Was he blaming himself for not hustling?

The Scoreboard shows Soria, and he is introduced by the announcer. The boos rain down by the tens of thousands. At that moment, Soria stood a little taller as he straitened up to deliver a last warm pitch up before facing Todd Frazier. A slugger with thirty-six homeruns. I joined in again with the boos. Yet Soria perseveres in the face of unrelenting hostility and hate from these very crowds who were basking him love a month earlier, and for years before that. Down goes Frazier.

I realize that its over. I cannot accept that this magical run is over. I've been in the dumps due to being discharged for medical reasons from the Air Force two months earlier. My Royals, the lowly Royals, had pulled me from those dumps. I couldn't let Alex walk of the field like that, without thanking him. I immediately shouted with every fiber of my being, "Lets Go Royals!" I did the five claps, and the upper deck joined me for the next iteration of the chant. Then the stadium did as well. I doubt I was the first to start that famous chant of love that night, but we let our heroes know that we loved them. It was okay. We appreciated the blood, sweat and tears that they left on the field for us. We were not let down. We were thankful, and proud.

Soria should be through the inning, but he is not because of a fluky bounce off the third base bag lead to a routine 5-3 out turning into an infield RBI double. The lead is 3-2 Royals, but there isn't much margin for error. Soria exits the field after J.B. Shuck groundouts to Escobar 6-3 to end the inning. There are some cheers and whistling, but its subdued as if the crowd thinks they just barely escaped disaster.

I was in shock. The run is over. We might never see the Royals in the playoffs again. I made my way to the exits. There was a big group of jubilant Giant's fans near the concourse exit, and I instinctively reached out and shook the nearest gentlemen's hand. "Congratulations on the remarkable victory. I have nothing but respect for your ballclub. Enjoy the victory!" Before I could return to silently contemplating what had happened, and what didn't, the gentlemen replied, "No, you, your city and ballclub deserve all of the congratulations and respect. I've never been around such respectful, classy and dedicated fans in my life. Your city has been great, and it took the greatest pitching performance in the history of the game [in one playoff series] to accomplish that. I'm sure you guys are going to be back here next year."

Wade Davis entered the game to a standing ovation. The crowd was juiced, and the announcer/scoreboard operator whipped them up. He was never booed. Even though he threw as many balls as strikes, and struggled with his command, he struck out the side. His tight rope was supported and steadied; buoyed by the familiar chants and cheers of Kauffman stadium. He was doused in cheers after the third out.



I was left with the following questions:

What effect does the booing have on Soria's confidence? What effect does the booing have on the confidence of the other players? Was Herrera shaken up by the torrential booing Soria had received only a day earlier? Herrera did not have the familiar expressions of confidence and dominance before he was shelled the night before. What do the other players think of us, their fans? Are we no different than Yankee or Red Sox fans? What is my four year old son thinking, as he looks up at his father? Where did that love and support go, from me? I thought I couldn't forget that hush, then anguished cry, and then deafening "Lets Go Royals!" chant from game seven. Or have I forgotten already? Is the bond between our city and team still alive?

To the Kansas City Royals coaches, players and staff,

I am sorry for my words and actions from the game on 17 Sept 2016. I am embarrassed to know that I acted that way, and not just because my four year old son was there. Tens of thousands of boos rained down upon Joakim Soria, and I helped to incite that.

You all have brought such joy to my life, lifted me up, and taught me so many life lessons. You have done so much for the city and this community. You had my support for so many years, through all of the losing and (short amount of) winning. I cannot imagine what you all were thinking as this behavior has occurred repeatedly throughout this season. I hope that the relationship between the city and team has not been damaged by the behavior of some of the fans (including myself) this year. I hope the players realize the frustration we feel is not for us, but for you. I know how bad the organization and players want to win.

Joakim Soria,



I am sorry for my words and actions from the game on 17 Sept 2016. I am embarrassed to know that I acted that way, and not just because my four year old son was there.

You showed courage, honor and perseverance to step over that threshold. It took integrity, honor and personal sacrifice to admit to the club that you were wrong to say what you did about the defense a couple of nights before; to not make excuses; and to accept responsibility for your actions and play this year. I showed cowardliness, selfishness and a lack of respect that is unbecoming.

I hope and pray that you do not let my behavior, and that of my fellow fans, get to you. Do not let it drag you down, introduce doubt into your mind or pierce your resolve. Soldier on. You are in the arena competing, while I am on the sidelines acting so disrespectfully, entitled, immature and hateful. I know these words will not undue what has been done. I know too that I cannot bear to my conscious after careful introspection. For all of this, I am sorry.



Sincerely yours,

Z