What it would have meant, had 37-year-old William Errol Thomas, his 11-year-old son, their lighter fluid, their matches, and their willful intentions succeeded in setting an American flag on fire in the outfield grass of Dodger Stadium in the fourth inning on April 25, 1976, is left to your imagination.
One thing that is clear that when Cubs center fielder and future Dodger Rick Monday snatched the flag from the Thomases and carried it to safety fewer than three months before the nation’s 200th birthday, the action did more to make baseball feel like a national pastime to many people than anything since, at least until the resumption of games following the tragedies of September 11, 2001.
“It was a moment that brought more emotion to a crowd of spectators than I have ever witnessed in a half-century of following the game of baseball,” wrote Fred Claire, who at the time was the Dodgers vice president of public relations and promotions and would later become general manager.
Claire instructed the operator of the old Dodger Stadium message board in left field to write, “Rick Monday...you made a great play.” And spontaneously, first in one part of the Stadium and then another, soon melding into one giant voice among the 25,167 in attendance, the crowd broke into a rendition of “God Bless America.”
As word of the event spread, aided by a Pulitzer Prize-winning photo by James Roark of the Los Angeles Herald-Examiner, Monday arguably became the most popular person in America. He would be honored in ceremonies wherever the Cubs next road trip took him.
Without discounting in the slightest the honor Monday brought to the flag, it is hard to reflect on the scene without acknowledging its poignancy. Thomas and his son weren’t immediately swarmed upon by stadium security. A photo taken moments later shows the pair standing forlornly in the outfield, not attempting to flee. Cubs left fielder Jose Cardenal, another ballplayer obscured from view and an umpire (probably second-base umpire Andy Olsen) look on as Tommy Lasorda, then the Dodgers’ third-base coach, is by his own admission cursing them—in fact, baiting them.
“When I got there,” Lasorda recalled, “I see these two guys and I told them, ‘Why don’t one of you guys take a swing at me?’ because there were [thousands of] people in the ballpark and I only wanted them to swing at me, so I could defend myself and do a job on them.”
Following up on the case days later, the Los Angeles Times found that “the man who tried to burn the American Flag at Dodger Stadium was attempting to draw attention to what he claims is his wife’s imprisonment in a Missouri mental institution, authorities say.” It paints the attempt to burn the flag as something less than viciously anti-American. The elder Thomas served three days in jail and received a year’s probation, then disappeared from the public record. His son was never prosecuted, and no news ever emerged about Thomas’ wife.
Decades later, Monday’s rescue of the flag remains a rallying point at the nexus of baseball and patriotism. Lurking beneath the surface was a cry for help, however inappropriately expressed. We know what happened to Monday. We can only hope that somehow, the Thomas family found rescue before putting themselves in further jeopardy.