First things first, credit to this poor sap. If I were him I would have been more liable to light my credentials on fire before calmly turning around and walking straight out of the stadium in a blaze of glory than to sprint through the outfield in front of ten of thousands of people in pursuit of an animal that was basically guaranteed to make me look like an asshole once I caught up to it. That probably speaks more to my distrust in house cats than it does to this guy's level of work ethic, but he still deserves a pat on the back and a "good job, good effort" for undertaking a task that should be reserved for single women in their late 30's. I genuinely think I would have fed that little piece of shit to the bleacher creatures by way of drop punt after the second chomp, so I tip my cap to this dude for being wary of PETA's all-seeing eye.
I suppose you could say the announcer "predicted" the bite(s), but that doesn't exactly make him Nostradamus. The fact that that inherently pissy kitten reacted poorly to getting picked up would have been the easiest bet of all time. I don't know what this kid gets paid as a member of the field crew, but it damn sure ain't enough to play caretaker to the most bi-polar, contentious pet on the planet. Honestly, "cat catcher" better be included in his contract and that contract better be written in the same blood that he just had drawn, or he chose the wrong side of this risk/reward. There's not enough incentives in the world to justify putting yourself in the position to let a maniacal, self important feline that can't fend for itself make you the butt of the joke on live television. I guess someone had to do it, but I would have been more inclined to turn that kitty into litter than I would be to sacrifice blood, sweat, or tears for it. Maybe the "rally cat" worked it's black magic because Yadier Molina almost immediately hit a go-ahead grand slam, but no man's pride is only worth 1 win out of 162 - no matter how close the divisional race is...