Sometimes we witness a moment so pure, so perfectly wonderful and incandescent it makes you throw back your head and thank whatever higher power you believe in for allowing you to simply be alive.

We saw such a moment last night when baseball hawking weirdo Zack Hample ate a huge amount of glorious SHIT as he careened his way down an aisle at Citizens Bank Park to snatch up a third inning Brandon Belt home run.

Did you miss this generation’s moon landing? Sit back and observe:

I’ve watched it dozens of times, and each viewing is more glorious than the next. I imagine it’s how a child in 1939 felt when their parents scrounged enough money together to take them to a matinee of “The Wizard of Oz,” and Dorothy opened the door to her aunt’s farmhouse after it landed in Oz. Imagine it, the theater bathed in the warming glow of technicolor, young eyes seeing the wondrous world of Oz for the first time, every worry disappearing in one magical moment.

If we could just bottle that feeling, preserve the warm, perfectly wonderful emotion of seeing Hample begin to lose control as he ran down one of the right field aisles, his childish glove swinging feebly as his little legs pumped as fast as they could, his prize so tantalizingly close as he launched his body into the void over 12 inches of pressed plastic… only to have it come crashing down, literally and figuratively as the one-foot jump proved to be too much of an athletic endeavor for one of the most hated fans in baseball.

One second you’re hurtling through the air, moments away from denying yet another child a lifelong memory, and the next you’re on your back and hopefully laying in a pile of half-eaten nachos on national television.

But the cherry on top? The chef’s KISS to bring it all together? The desperate back-laden HEAVE, one final death spasm to snatch up three dollars worth of rawhide and twine… and his miserable failure as the best fan in the world (anyone who takes a home run ball away from Hample is automatically crowned as such) grabs the ball from the prone man child.

All this while not wearing a mask.. fairly sure that’s a big no-no at Citizens Bank Park while you’re watching a game, Zacky.

Watch the video more than five times and your COVID-19 antibodies skyrocket. Watch it again in 12 months and it’s all the booster you need. Pandemic over.

Last year Kevin asked if Zack Hample was “Cool or a weirdo?” I think this is your answer. We all kind of already knew, what with the kid pushing, the fake valor to attend a Veterans-only minor league game, being kicked out of CBP in 2013 after using an offensive word… but this should put to bed any lingering doubts.

Enough with the baseballs already, Zack. I speak on behalf of everyone who has ever seen your sweaty face barreling his way through an outfield concourse… we’ve had it with you. What’s the endgame? Are you going to be a 55-year-old weirdo charting home runs and pretending what you’re doing is not insane?

You’ve gone as far as you’re going to go with this. Hang it up and do something worthwhile, like working in a call center or boxing Jake Paul.

Just leave the baseball glove at home. Thanks.