The one time I went to a game in Kansas City, the Royals were terrible.
Which was fine, because they were playing the pre-Maddon Rays, who were terrible, too. Which meant lots of runs and lots of wacky fielding and lots of opportunities to buy beer and hang out with my wife and our friends as the game rolled along.
At the time, the Royals were still running Angel Berroa out there at shortstop, largely on the principle that someone had to stand there and since he'd won Rookie of the Year at one point, it might as well be him. Berroa was not what you'd call a patient hitter, and so the first time he came up to bat, he swung at the first pitch. He popped up.*
The second time he came up, he swung at the first pitch. He grounded out.
The third time he came up, he swung at the first pitch. He made an out.
The fourth time he came up, I started chanting "TAKE ONE PITCH! TAKE ONE PITCH!" My friends joined in.
Berroa heard us. Hard not to, really - Kaufman Stadium was not exactly playing to packed houses in those days. He stepped out of the box. Took a confused look around. Stepped back into the box and swung at the first pitch.
And made an out.
But the next time he came up, we started chanting. Our whole section got into it. Berroa noticed again. Stepped out. Looked around. Shook his head. Stepped back into the box.
Took the first pitch. It was a ball.
We erupted in cheers. And then immediately started chanting "TAKE ANOTHER PITCH!"
He swung at the next one. Made an out. But that was all right. We'd won.
*actual at-bat details may be a bit fuzzy in memory. Work with me here.