No, he didn’t die or anything, but giving up an $8 beer in order to grab a baseball, the sort of which you can get for something like $20 a dozen down at Dick’s represents the kind of sacrifice that neither you nor I would normally be willing to make.
So here’s to you, smell-like-a-beer-all-night-in-exchange-for-a-Ryan-Sweeney-foul-ball guy. Real. Man. Of. Genius.