How banned Yankees fan Austin Capobianco’s life has changed since his infamous World Series moment

Austin Capobianco has grown used to the backlash. It has been over three months since the 38-year-old Connecticut resident reached out and pried open the glove of Los Angeles Dodgers right fielder Mookie Betts during Game 4 of the World Series at Yankee Stadium. Since then, he has received hundreds of texts and voicemails from strangers, some telling him to go to hell—others saying far worse.

He has been relentlessly criticized on social media—a consequence of an incident witnessed live by 16 million viewers and endlessly replayed online.https://svtoday.org/

Yet this winter, before Capobianco received a letter from Major League Baseball indefinitely banning him from all MLB stadiums, an unexpected package left him in shock.

His brother called, informing him that a box had arrived at their parents’ home in a quiet Connecticut suburb.

There was no name on it. It was heavy.

Hesitant to open it, they Googled the return address, only to discover it belonged to a company specializing in anonymous deliveries of a rather unsavory nature.

“It was poop,” Capobianco said.

Someone had paid to anonymously send feces to him. But because his name was still linked to his parents’ address, the package ended up there instead of at his apartment.

Other anonymous packages arrived at his workplace—where he and his four siblings run a family business in food service supply and commercial kitchen design. Those went unopened.

“My family has had to deal with so much because of me,” Capobianco said. “Nonstop calls. People sending me pictures of their ugly-looking penises. The packages.”

Capobianco regrets interfering with Betts and wishes the entire situation had never happened.

While he is disappointed about the ban, he acknowledges that the punishment is fair. As a devoted Yankees fan, he hopes to regain MLB’s approval sooner rather than later, so he can return to Yankee Stadium.

At the same time, he wants to share his version of the story. And he hopes the wave of anonymous hate will finally stop.

“Guys, you won the World Series,” he said. “Leave me alone.”

Sitting in an Italian restaurant in mid-January, Capobianco blends into the crowd. Wearing a blue Moncler crewneck and a black beanie—instead of the black flat-brim Yankees cap and oversized gray jersey he will always be remembered for—he looks like just another diner in the Westchester suburbs.

On October 29 of the previous year, he was just another fan in the stands—until a series of decisions changed that forever.

Capobianco attended Game 4 with his younger brother Darren, best friend John Hansen, and another friend. Their seats were in section 109, right up against the wall in the right-field corner—a ticket package that had been in Capobianco’s family for over a decade.

From the start, an ominous mood loomed over the Bronx. In the first inning, Yankees pitcher Luis Gil surrendered a one-out double to Betts, followed by a home run to Freddie Freeman—who had already crushed the Yankees with a walk-off homer in Game 1 and had gone deep in Games 2 and 3. A sweep on home turf seemed inevitable.

Desperate for a shift in luck, they decided to switch seats, hoping to change the “juju,” as Capobianco put it. He moved from his usual far-right seat to the second seat from the left.

“I had never sat in that seat in my life,” he said.

Then, in the Yankees’ first at-bat, Gleyber Torres connected with a high, inside fastball. The ball rocketed toward Capobianco’s group at 91.1 mph.

First, it slipped through Hansen’s outstretched hands. Then, it landed in Betts’ glove—his left wrist wedged between Capobianco’s cupped hands, which didn’t appear to extend past the wall into the field of play.

What followed was unlike anything ever seen before.

Capobianco grabbed Betts’ glove with both hands, clenched his teeth, and pulled it open just enough to dislodge the ball. As Betts struggled with Capobianco, Hansen gripped Betts’ right wrist.

The ball tumbled to the ground. Umpires immediately ruled fan interference, calling Torres out. Betts exchanged heated words with the group.

“Mookie was swearing at us,” Darren Capobianco recalled. “Not good.”

Austin Capobianco knew he was about to be ejected.

“I didn’t know how bad it was,” he admitted, “but I knew it was bad.”

Within minutes, Yankee Stadium security escorted Capobianco and Hansen out. They were initially told they could return for Game 5, but by the next afternoon, MLB had announced they were barred from attending. The Yankees donated their tickets to a family whose child had cancer.

Capobianco and Hansen ended up watching the rest of Game 4 and all of Game 5 from Billy’s Bar across the street.

“A million people wanted to take pictures,” he said.

Now, Capobianco refuses to watch footage of the incident. If it comes on TV, he changes the channel.

“I want nothing to do with that memory,” he said.

Yet in the immediate aftermath, he seemed to embrace the attention. He gave an interview to ESPN and appeared on a Barstool Sports podcast the following day.

“We always joke about balls hit into our section,” he told ESPN at the time. “We’re not going to go out of our way to interfere. But if a ball comes our way, we’ll ‘D’ up… Someone defends, someone knocks it away. We talk about it. We’re willing to do this.”

However, in an interview with The Athletic, both Capobianco and Hansen denied any intention of making contact with a player. Their plan, they claimed, was simply to knock down the ball—only if it was heading toward their seats and not into the field of play.

Hansen admitted he was wrong to grab Betts’ wrist but insisted he wasn’t trying to harm him. He said he instinctively reacted when he saw Betts moving toward Capobianco, not realizing Capobianco already had hold of the glove.

“I was just trying to stop things from escalating in half a second,” said Hansen, who now lives in Nashville.

The next day, Capobianco found himself with an unexpected supporter: Rob Gronkowski.

Capobianco had attended the University of Arizona, where he befriended a freshman tight end named Gronkowski.

“He’s a fun dude,” Gronkowski said on Up & Adams. “But what he did was unacceptable.”

“He’s all in for his teams. He’s all in for the Yankees. That describes him perfectly—doing whatever it takes to help his team. He’s a beauty.”

Soon after, Capobianco’s phone was inundated with calls—many from unknown numbers or Southern California area codes.

The voicemails, which he shared with The Athletic, were brutal.

“Enjoy watching Game 5 from home, ass hat.”

“F— you, you piece of s—. Karma’s coming for you.”

“You’re a f—— idiot and a joke, fatass.”

Now, all Capobianco can do is wait.

MLB’s letter stated that his actions “posed a serious risk to the health and safety of (Betts) and went far beyond acceptable fan behavior.” Capobianco understands why.

He hopes to return to Yankee Stadium someday, but he knows it might take time. He grew up in Connecticut, idolizing the Yankees and attending games with his father.

He tries to avoid his phone, stays off social media, and focuses on work. He loves to travel. He’s grateful the scandal hasn’t impacted his family’s business.

“I’m a good guy who did something dumb on camera,” he said.

Capobianco hopes to reach out to MLB this year to discuss lifting his ban. He’s open to community service or donating tickets to charity.

Yet, other fans who trespassed onto the field and hugged Atlanta Braves outfielder Ronald Acuña Jr. in 2023 are still serving indefinite bans.

More than anything, Capobianco just wants to fade into obscurity.

No more assumptions. No more harassment. No more anonymous packages.

“I’m a hero to Yankees fans, a villain to America,” he said. “I don’t care. I just want to be forgotten.”