The Canada goose that parked itself in the Wrigley Field outfield Monday night, now that was funny.
The Norway rat that jumped off a bag of balls in the eighth inning Tuesday night, skittered across the shoes of Phillies manager Rob Thomson, sprinted the length of the visitors’ dugout, dashed past the photographers’ well and disappeared behind the Reynolds Wrap tarp rolled up along the wall?
Funny might be a stretch, particularly for an unnerved Phillies bench, players jumping back in surprise. “Scared a little bit,’’ said Phillies catcher Rafael Marchan, unhappy to be so close to the trespassing rodent. And a camera operator stationed next to the dugout was rattled, saying he hated rats.
Cubs management was anything but amused.
When the Sun-Times called asking to speak with Patrick Meenan, senior vice president of operations, the call was routed to media relations.
“We take the health and safety of our guests seriously,’’ the Cubs said in a statement that was released to those outlets who made inquiries. “As an open venue in a big city, rodent abatement is something we do year-round. We understand how important it is for our fans to have a positive experience and keeping our ballpark clean and safe is always a top priority.’’
The statement was issued “on behalf of the Cubs organization.’’
But while one official said the team preferred the focus be on the team’s winning streak — the Cubs were bidding for their eighth straight win on Wednesday — the rat was a singular sensation.
A cellphone video posted on X by Marcus Leshock, a WGN-TV feature reporter on the station’s morning show, was viewed nearly two million times, according to the reporter, and retweeted all over cyberspace.
Thomson took it in stride. No, he said, he’d never seen a rat on the field during a game.
“He ran right, almost right over my toes,” Thomson said. “I could see him over there, sitting on that ball bucket, and I knew he was gonna keep on coming. Started running, came right by the dugout.
“I’ve seen squirrels. Last year in [Citizens Bank Park], it was at night, a squirrel ran right over my hand.’’
Thomson thought a bit more. “I take it back,’’ he said. “I saw rats in Shea.’’
Cubs fans, like Gail Palmier, still have memories of the black cat that suddenly appeared in front of the Cubs’ dugout in Shea Stadium in September 1969, which some fans still interpret as a harbinger of the Cubs’ infamous collapse to the Mets.
Gail and her husband have been Cubs season-ticket holders since 2014, with seats 10 rows from home plate. They noticed a commotion along the front row, then saw the rat make its dash.
In the seven years they’ve occupied those seats, they’d never seen a rat during the game. “But when we’re walking back to our car after the game,’’ Gail said, “we see rats.’’
That should hardly come as a shock in a town that was voted “rattiest city in America’’ by the Orkin pest control people for 10 consecutive years until Los Angeles claimed the distinction last year.
And rats in ballparks are hardly a new phenomenon. Jim Deshaies, the Cubs’ TV analyst, used to pitch for the Astros and recalls cats roaming in the bowels of the old Astrodome.
“Feral cats versus the killer rats,’’ Deshaies said. “Didn’t know which side to hang with.’’
For the manager occupying the home dugout, it was almost a circle of life moment.
“The rat’s got a job,’’ Craig Counsell of the Cubs said. “He’s got a job to do. He’s cleaning up some garbage, you know? The cat’s got a job — eat the rat.’’