I noticed this at Wrigley one time when I stood up and screamed for a long Aramis Ramirez fly ball.
And don't tell me it hasn't happened to you.
Say some Cub is up, he makes good contact, the ball sails up into the blue and you...can't...help it...
You jump up.
You hold that "I'm about to clap" pose for a second, mouth hanging open.
Is it gone?
You think it's GONE.
You look at the outfielder and he's still running back.
You want to be part of what's about to happen, the magical home run.
So you let it out - that special-ecstasy home run noise you make.
The ball reaches it's apex and...falls limply into the left fielder's glove.
It didn't even reach the warning track, did it?
What you've just experienced is called "Premature Jack-Elation".
I don't know why this is embarrassing, but it is.
It's like when you hail a cab, but there's somebody in there, and then for some reason you scratch your head like you were never hailing anything in the first place?
Only there's no scratching your head here, my friend.
Because now you have to sit back down and not make eye contact with anyone for a minute, maybe find something interesting floating on the surface of your beer.
The people around you - the ones with...better control - they stood up maybe, but they didn't go full monty with the moan and everything.
They didn't get naked like you just did.
One more thing.
Premature Jack-Elation isn't relegated to just fans.
If you're a professional baseball player, and you hit a long fly ball but instead of running you stand there and admire it?
(We know a couple of these, don't we?)
And if that ball clangs off the wall and you only get a single out of it why, that's the worst kind of Premature Jack-Elation imaginable.
Oh yeah, there was a game today wasn't there?
Back on the winning track with some clutch plays, pitching (or "shoveling", Mr. Dempster), and I LOVED the insurance homer, Aramis.
Cubs 3 Dodgers 1.
Home sweet home.
Keep it going, Sean Gallagher.
ps: Flynn, I found this photo of you with the EXACT expression I was looking for - you were riding my son's skateboard, about to kill yourself.
So you were the model here, bro.
Not that you're a Premature Jack-Elator or anything.