The art of the pitch: It's a pirate's life for ballpark beer vendor

I've been sitting in Section 119 at Citizens Bank Park for several years now and often have groaned when the vendor with the plastic parrot on his hat came down my aisle to sell Miller Lite.

This beer man - familiar to anyone who sits along the first-base line - will stop, hold up a bottle in each hand, and growl a throaty, utterly annoying, endlessly long, supremely loud, harsh, and grating, "Miller Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiite."

I wondered why his vocal chords didn't give out, always hoping they would. His parrot was a mystery to me.

I also realized that maybe I'm too stiff, because many fans around me were always laughing and pointing - and opening their wallets. And, to be honest, even though I didn't "get" him, I appreciated his uniqueness in this sanitized, homogenized, corporate world.

So I met him. Interviewed him. Watched him hustle for a night.

Now I understand and appreciate him. Call this personal growth.

His name is Dean Graziani. He's 47, grew up in Pennsauken. He humps up and down the aisles all night at the ballpark, lugging one smothered-in-ice case of beer after another, all for tips and a small commission.

And when he's done he gets in his car - usually in the middle of the eighth inning unless it's a close game - and drives down to Atlantic City, to the Showboat Casino, where he works overnight as a bartender. He usually gets home to Hammonton, N.J., about 9 a.m., sleeps a few hours, looks after his 6-year-old son, and is back on the road to the ballpark by 4:30.

He works two jobs because he's got two kids in college. He needs to sell a lot of beer to pay two tuitions.

He used to tend bar in a suite at Veterans Stadium. In fact, he said he was Ed Rendell's bartender. He liked Ed. "He took care of me even though I was from Jersey," said Graziani, "and I couldn't vote for him."

Graziani started as a beer vendor when Citizens Bank Park opened in 2004. He yelled at his kids and his dogs at home, so yelling came naturally, and one night he just started calling out "Miller Liiiiiiiiiiiiite" at the ballpark. Fans laughed and told him he sounded like a pirate.

So he decided to go with it. You use the gifts God gives you.

He got himself a plastic parrot - originally to attend a Jimmy Buffett concert - but tried it out at a Phillies game. Another big hit.

Fans urged him to add an eye patch.

"It's something that just went totally out of control," he says.

He sees himself as a vendor and entertainer.

"I kind of divert your attention from how much everything costs," he said. "I kind of make light of how outrageous it is. A kid will ask me, 'Why are you a pirate at a Phillies game?' And I'll say, 'Ask your dad. I just sold him two beers for $14.50. Ask him if he thinks I'm a pirate.' "

He's become a good capitalist.

The more beer you buy, the more pirate act you get.

If a person buys two beers, Graziani will twist open the bottles, pass them down the row and sing oug, "One Miller Liiiiiiiiiite, two Miller Liiiiiiiiiiites."

"You buy three Miller Lites," he says, "I'll pull the eye patch down. Four Miller Lites, I'll do a pirate dance." He swings his arms, lifts his knees, a little pirate's jig.

Everybody laughs.

He then says, "You just spent $29 - who's laughing now!"

Marissa Ramsay, 24, of West Chester, was at the game recently with Chris Helmerson, 33, of Wilmington. They had never seen Graziani before. They loved his growl so much that Helmerson growled back while ordering his beer.

Candace DeSimone, 35, of King of Prussia, doesn't even drink beer but took out her wallet and was about to buy a Miller Lite from Graziani until her boyfriend stopped her.

"You don't even drink beer," he told her.

"I want one just because of his presentation," she argued.

Graziani says this happens all the time, that people buy beers from him who don't even drink and just give the beers away. But don't some fans feel like I did?

"There's one guy in the section behind the dugout in the first row, and I know if he's down there I stay five rows away," Graziani said.

"One time he said I annoy him. He didn't appreciate it. And all the other fans started yelling at him, and I said don't yell at him. This is his place. He's paying for his ticket, not me. He deserves respect. So when I see him I keep away."

Graziani will get hoarse after an eight- or 10-game homestand.

And each night, he can't just come out growling.

"Once I warm up, like a pitcher, then I can't stop," he said.

He used to sell 10 cases of beer in a night, but now it's down to five, partly because the Phillies have doubled the number of beer men, he said. Graziani also claims the Phillies have gotten so good it actually has hurt his business.

"When the team was bad," he said, "we'd just get partyers who came to drink. Now we've got fans who come to watch baseball."

Can you believe that?

Miller Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiite.