THE LAST FIVE ...

Closing up shop
- Wednesday, Aug. 02, 2006

It may be time for a change
- Wednesday, May 17, 2006

Entry in the air
- Friday, April 21, 2006

Still here
- Thursday, April 20, 2006

Music of the moment
- Wednesday, March 1, 2006

Or ... BE RANDOM!


GOOD READS

101 in 1001
American Road Trip, 1998


OTHER PEOPLE

Chupatintas
Dancing Brave
Fugging It Up
Kitty Sandwich
Mister Zero
Sideways Rain
Ultratart
Velcrometer


THE BASICS

My crew
Latest
Older
Notes
Our host
Profile

Tuesday, Aug. 27, 2002 - 12:30 p.m.

Why baseball won't die

When you work for a minor-league baseball team, the end of the season is like the end of the school year. In a way, it's like most summer jobs. There's the sadness of all those days together coming to an end, all those late nights after the game hanging out together will be over. But then there's the excitement of new adventures, of the next endeavor around the corner, of what the fall has in store. For most people, there's also the hope and optimism of next season, next summer, when baseball will return and so, too, will many of those who work those long game days and nights.

The same thing happens when you cover a minor-league baseball team. I wasn't a part of the team in the sense that I did not have to show up at 9 a.m., work a full business day, then work a game at night. I wasn't paid by the team, I wasn't required to become friends with so many of the employees. It just happened.

Last night, when 13,003 fans -- that's only a few dozen people short of TWICE the seating capacity (there is room for thousands of general admission tickets) -- came out to a minor-league ballpark to see a team with a 66-66 record and no chance of making the playoffs, it was quite a farewell and culmination of the second season for the team. In what will be one of my final assignments as a staff writer for the paper, I was given the A1 cover story assignment, the front-page centerpiece story. I was told 20-25 inches by my sports editor, and I wrote a great 20-25 (well, maybe 26) inch story that became a decent 18-inch story when the paper came out this morning. I didn't have to pay that much attention to the play on the field, and in fact out of the estimated 100 games I've seen at the ballpark, I have not watched less of the game than I did last night.

But that was OK, because instead I went out to the far reaches of the grassy hill beyond the outfield fences and talked with some fans who had to settle for a spot 500 feet from home plate, with most of the outfield obscured by two giant billboards. And the entire time I talked with them, they laughed and smile and made jokes, but not one hint of annoyance at having to settle for less-than-decent seats.

I got to write the atmosphere piece. I was the color commentary to Tony's game story, the play-by-play account of a 3-0 win for the good guys. I suppose it helped that one of the team's best prospects for major-league superstardom was the starting pitcher last night, that he pitched a gem for seven innings, allowing just two hits, and was the winning pitcher. That might have brought some people out to the ballyard. I also got to talk with the team's owner, who was a few doors down from the press box in the team's suite, entertaining the president of the major league club, who was as engaging and open as anyone I've ever interviewed and it's amazing that the good people like that are grouped together with the other major-league owners who are fighting right now with the players to see who will be more responsible for ruining the business of Major League Baseball.

With all this talk about a potential strike by major-league players beginning Friday if a new labor agreement isn't worked out, too many people have been complaining that they are ruining the game. What they don't realize is that they are ruining their business. They can't ruin baseball, they can't take it away. Thirteen thousand people at a ballpark on the Jersey Shore last night proved that baseball is as popular as ever, and the fans will continue to go to games, to watch. They'll just do it at smaller, more intimate parks closer to home, where the players truly play for the love of the game rather than the love of the pay.

Last night was a celebration of all that minor league baseball represents. After the game, the team (with the help of two local dealerships) gave away a Harley-Davidson and a Chevrolet. The mascot, who has lost every race around the bases against a child this season, finally won by beating a member of the grounds crew. In the middle of the eighth inning, the P.A. announcer got 13,000 people to their feet to dance for five and a half minutes to "YMCA" by the Village People. The team filmed the spectacle, and when the Guiness Book of World Records verifies the information, there will be a new record for the largest participation in such an event. The current record on record is some 6,900 students at Southwest Missouri State University from six years ago.

After the game last night, I had no need for player quotes but I went to the clubhouse anyway. I shook hands with some of the guys and wished them luck as they pursue major-league dreams. And when I walked up to The Phenom, the star of the night and the season, I told him it was a pleasure talking with him throughout the season. He looked down at me (he's 6-5 at least), shaking my hand, and said, "It's been a pleasure. If you keep up with my career, make sure you say hi whenever you come to any games."

Just how mature can a 19-year-old millionaire be?

I went back upstairs to the press box to pack up my things. I went out onto the balcony to watch the final competition for the Chevrolet (fans had to toss soft, plush baseballs from the stands behind the dugout through the car's open sunroof; those who made it continued on until just one fan got the ball through the roof to win the car). I took my things down to the car, then returned to the bar on the suite level and spent hours that seemed like mere minutes talking with full-time employees and interns alike who wished me luck in my new job and hoped they'd still see me at the ballpark next season. They invited me along on their Sept. 10 office outing, which will either be whitewater rafting in the Poconos or a Yankees game in the Bronx.

And I assured them I'd be back next season. Who can stay away from something so exciting, so successful, some place so welcoming as this?

Previous page: How clean can hair get?
Next page: Jealousy's a bitch

� 1998-2004 DC Products. All rights reserved.

Yeah, sorry I have to be all legal on you here, but unless otherwise indicated, all that you read here is mine, mine, mine. But feel free to quote me or make fun of me or borrow what I write and send it out as an e-mail forward to all your friends, family and coworkers. Just don't say it's yours, you know?