The pitcher winds up, back to the batter, corkscrews around whipping a 96 mph heater toward the plate with tremendous movement on it.  He sprints in a flash to home plate, grabbing a bat in one motion swinging and sending it to the deepest part of the park, on a high arc into the seats.  But racing to the 410 sign, slipping on a glove as he does, he is able to time his leap perfectly and, reaching 18 inches over the wall, pluck the ball out of the air before it can descend into the stands.   Falling to the ground after slamming into the wall he manages to stay on his feet, takes a stride and throws a strike back to the first baseman, on a fly, and doubles up the runner who had taken off at the crack of the bat.  Double play!  He makes it half way down the first base line where he kicks the dirt, the bat again in his hand, and curses the fucking centerfielder, who a second ago was him.

All this drama is watched impassively by 50,000 empty seats.  The seats, truly, could not give less of a shit about heroics on the baseball field.