Category Archives: former milwaukee brewers affiliates

Ballparks that were used by Milwaukee Brewers affiliates at the time I saw them, but are no longer.

Kindrick Field, Helena, Montana

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Kindrick Field, Helena, MONTANA

State number:  still 31
States to go:  19

Number of games:  1
First game:  July 8, 2010 (Great Falls Voyagers 15, Helena Brewers 2)

(Kindrick Field is no longer used for affiliated baseball as of the 2019 season.)
(Click on any photo so see a larger version.)

Kindrick Field underwhelmed me.  Seriously–in one of the most gorgeous states around, and in the shadow of the Rocky Mountains, there’s not an attractive feel to the place.  The neighborhood, which is sort of semi-industrial-semi-residential is not anything that impresses. 

And even though the field is unusually oriented such that the sun sets behind right field, perhaps bugging the batter, there’s not much of a mountain view.  The ballpark’s appearance from the outside is–let’s face it–a bit ugly.  So there wasn’t much going for the place on the way in.  Once I got on the inside, however, there was a little bit of charm, and the people of Montana made this into one of the most memorable nights I’ve ever had in a ballpark in spite of a laughable loss by the home team.

Like many old-time ballparks (Eugene’s old Civic Stadium comes to mind), there is a battle going on inside of Kindrick Field between the comfort of modern ballparks and the charm of old.  The orange seats and the green wooden edifice give a bit of an old-timey feel on the inside, and we welcomed the significant legroom the second row offered, since we could simply put Steven on a leash and let him run up and down the row.  However, it’s a good thing that we didn’t have general

admission seats.  They’re simply wooden benches, and they stretch all the way from railing to railing.  Rather than putting in a convenient (and safe) staircase, the Brewers just painted a few stretches of the benches white, thus declaring that area to be the aisle.  If I were at all elderly or even just suffering from a bum knee that day, I’d have a lot of trouble clambering over the benches to get to my seat.

On the whole, the place simply lacked amenities.  I’m not talking about big-time Diamondvision or skyboxes or any of that business.  I’m talking about the following conversation I had with

an usher on a nearly-90-degree-day:

ME:  Excuse me, can you tell me where a drinking fountain is?
USHER:  I don’t think we have any.
ME:  Huh?
USHER:  I don’t think we have any drinking fountains.

Call me crazy, but I don’t think it’s asking too much to have a drinking fountain available for fans. 

The place was built in 1939, and drinking fountains certainly were invented before that…you mean to say that nobody has thought to install a fountain in this place in 71 years?

In any event, I did spend some time walking the water-fountain-less pavilion.  I liked the photos of every former Helena player currently playing in the majors:  I’ve seen such lists in other places, but seldom photos of everyone with their current team listed.  However, while I

appreciated the nod to history, in some ways it felt like they were barely even trying.  Their historical exhibit consisted of a printed-out version of the Helena Brewers Wikipedia article.  Seriously?  That’s the best you can do?  And their commemoration of the only Hall of Famer ever to put on a Helena uniform–Ryne Sandberg–actually misspelled his name.  Both of these left me with the impression that somebody could have done much better if they’d put in just a little time and effort.

There’s atmosphere in the pavilion area, but not a lot of room.  An usher stopped me from walking behind the left-field

general admission stands to get closer to the Helena bullpen.  A place this small usually allows one to get closer to the players than Kindrick Field does.  So I headed down the right-field line, where I was greeted by a private party area, an usher who wanted me to have a wristband to enter, and my own hubris.

My goal was to get past the usher, through the beer-drinking members of whatever company had booked the party deck, and down by the Great Falls bullpen to see if I could grab an autograph of a player or two I had watched play in Missoula the previous year.  I asked a question that usually nets me access:

  “Can I just head back there to take a picture or two?”  The usher wasn’t sure. He told me to ask his boss, who was approaching.  I did.  The boss appeared uncertain.  “Well, we really don’t like doing that…”  And then, he asked me a question that surprised me.  “Are you the guy who’s been to all the ballparks?”

Wow!  Recognized for the second year in a row!  Erik the Peanut Guy in the Tri-Cities had started a trend!  I wondered how he knew I was coming…maybe someone who reads this site had seen my name in will call or something?

Anyway, surprised and flattered, I answered in the affirmative, and he let me head back there to take some photos. 

Much to my surprise, the Great Falls Voyagers’ clubhouse was back among the partying businesspeople, and so ballplayers were sitting on picnic tables adjacent to revelers.  Not just passing through, not exactly hanging out, either, but sitting there.  It was a little weird.

When I heard the first-pitch announcement, I became newly aware of my own arrogance.  The guy throwing out the first pitch had been to 125 minor league ballparks, over twice my total.  So it wasn’t me that the guy was asking about.  Funny.

The best memory by far of the evening will involve the wonderful family sitting next to me.  I had Michelle and Steven on my right, and a dad with three daughters on my left.  One of the girls was in about third grade, one in about sixth or seventh, and the third maybe a sophomore in high school.  The girl on my immediate left–the middle one in age–started making eye contact with Steven.  She’d look away and then zip her gaze back to him.  He started

laughing.  My son, when he really gets going, has a hall-of-fame worthy laugh…a loud, massive baby guffaw that makes the whole world crack up with him.  Since he was taking as much of a shine to this girl as she was to him, the laughs started to increase in both volume and joy level.  The game, which was 12-1 in favor of the visitors at this point, wasn’t much of a game, so people weren’t distracted by events in the field.  We were the best thing going on at Kindrick Field.  People in the rows around us started looking to see what was making Steven laugh so much.  Then, they started laughing too, since Steven’s laugh was so contagious.  Before we knew it, Steven and this sweet girl had more or less the entire section laughing like crazy.  Since we were in the second row behind home plate, I think this might have been a bit of a confusing development to the players, who were likely wondering what this laughing was all about.

I was so struck by how wonderful this was that I asked the dad if I could take a picture of his family.  He introduced himself as Lenny and said that he and his girls were on their way back from a camping trip.  He also said that the girls had a brother almost exactly Steven’s age, so their skill with him was due to practice.

At any rate, we put Steven on the

leash and let him wander over to where the girls were, and the girls, especially the younger ones, played with Steven the entire rest of the night.  Steven would point at the letters on one girl’s sweatshirt, and the sisters would identify them.  There was peek-a-boo.  There were funny faces.  There was so much laughter that Steven’s goodbye wave later that night was just a little more wistful than usual…or maybe that was my imagination.  I gave Lenny the web address for this site, and I hope he finds it and emails me.  Lenny–I’ve got a few good pictures of your kids playing with my kid I’d like to send you.  Fire off a comment or an email for me.

Missing out on all of this joyous raucousness was the motorcyclist we had met the previous night in Idaho Falls.  Just like he said, he was at the ballpark that night, in the row ahead of us and about five seats down, just past the family.  In spite of this immediately-behind-home-plate seat,

he only remained there for a few innings.  We suspect there were too many kids nearby, so Grumpy decided to go somewhere else.  His loss.

So, while I’m afraid the ballpark doesn’t have too much going for it, I will remember my night in Helena with nothing but affection.  Often, a ballpark is about the people in it more than anything else, and it’s good to have reminders of that from time to time.

BALLPARK SCORE:

Regional feel:  6/10
There are a couple of mountains visible, and a nice effort to honor past Helena players, but the nondescript location hurts the score here.

Charm: 3/5
At times, this was lovely.

Spectacle:  2.5/5
Could do a bit more for Rookie ball, and it was hard to hear what was happening because of a pretty bad PA system.

Team Mascot/Name:  2/5

“Kitty!” and “Roar!” my son said when he met these mascots (once they were at a safe distance).  He liked them more than I do.  Surely Helena can find a new name than that of its parent club–it’s the only team in the Pioneer League that does so.  The mascot will follow.  But bonus points for naming these guys Lewis the Lion and Clark the Cougar.

Aesthetics: 2.5/5
Ugly on the outside, beautiful on the inside.  View is decent–not as nice as I’d expect in a place as gorgeous as Montana.

Pavilion: 2/5
A little claustrophobic, and not much going on.  Seriously–no water fountains?

Scoreability: 3.5/5
Did a pretty good job here.  Didn’t always know which player the error was on, though, but always knew hit or error in a timely fashion.  Bad PA hurt with pitching changes and pinch hitters.

Fans:  5/5
Quite easily the highlight of the night.  Many, many fabulous people at the ballpark engaged in making my son laugh…over and over again.  We’re talking about nearly ten strangers ogling my boy.  How cool is that?

Intangibles: 4/5
The people of Helena got me over my negative first impression of the park and made this a fantastic night.

TOTAL: 30.5/50

BASEBALL STUFF I’VE SEEN HERE:

Some ugly, ugly stuff.  Great Falls led 10-1 after a 4-run third and a 6-run fourth.  Let’s tally up just those two innings:  Ten runs, nine hits, four wild pitches, three errors, and a hit batsman.

Rafael Vera leads the Great Falls attack with three hits.

A day Brewers’ pitcher Thomas Keeling would rather forget.  He came to mop up the ninth, and proceeded to walk the first four batters he faced.  He got two guys out, but then gave up a hit and a fifth walk.  Connor Lind, normally a position player, had to come in to finish off the game by getting Kyle Davis to pop out to second.

(Written July 2010.)

Greer Stadium, Nashville, Tennessee

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This page will only be here through 6/29, but I am saving these (and adding new parks as I see them) here, at paulsballparks.substack.com. See you on the other side!

 

Greer Stadium, Nashville, TENNESSEE

Number of states:  still 18
States to go:  32

Number of games:  1
First game:   July 29, 2006 (Salt Lake Bees 7, Nashville Sounds 4)

(Greer Stadium was no longer used for baseball as of 2015.  It was demolished in 2019.)
(Click on any picture to see a larger version.)

The best experience I have ever had in a ballpark was my rehearsal dinner–July 29, 2005.  Exactly a year later, I had another marvelous moment.

It sort of happened in San Diego, and it turned into a negative experience.  I had a shot at it in Batavia, and

I blew it.  But in Nashville?  On July 29?  Destiny.

I caught my first foul ball.

Bottom of the first inning.  Jonathon Rouwenhorst pitching. Vinny Rottino batting.  Rottino couldn’t catch up to Rouwenhorst’s pitches.  He

kept sending foul balls down the right field line, where I sat.  I got the glove ready.  Then, it happened.

I’m not very good at judging fly balls, so I’m glad Rob was there.  Not long after the ball left Rottino’s bat, he shouted:  “I think that’s you, Paul!”  The ball started by heading away from the plate, and then started arcing more parallel to the foul line, right along where I was.  I stuck out my glove and intercepted the path.  Bingo!  I caught a real-live foul ball.  On the fly.  In the glove.

My section, and three sections surrounding me, cheered loudly and lustily.  I greedily took it all in by raising both hands.  “Thank you!  Thank you!” I shouted.  No kids came up to me asking for it, and that’s good, because after

waiting a quarter of a century and some 200 games to catch one of these, I wouldn’t have given it up.  I attempted to re-enact the catch, but the resulting picture is poor…the glove was actually in front of me for a backhand stab.  I generally was giddy for the rest of the game.  Rest assured that I’ll try to get out every July 29 from now on!

Needless to say, Vinny Rottino is now my favorite player in the majors.  The Brewers called him up about a month after I caught his ball, and I’m hoping he’ll stay up in 2007.  (2009 Update:  He didn’t stick, and was traded to the Dodgers in July of 2009.) Minor leaguers, remember:  hitting a ball that I catch ALWAYS positively impacts your career.

It’s a good thing that I caught that foul ball, because the ballpark was a snoozer beyond that.  Were it not for the huge guitar scoreboard and the name Sounds, this place would have had absolutely no indication of which of the 50 states we were in.  The view beyond the outfield fence was a non-descript neighborhood to end all non-descript neighborhoods.  There was nothing thrilling to look at.  Add to that a too-crowded concourse, and it’s abundantly clear why the Sounds have decided

to move to a new ballpark by the river.

I did appreciate one thing about the concourse:  the way that the concession stands were named for past Sounds.  I always enjoy the nods to past players who have passed through, and Dibble’s Den, Bye-Bye Deli, and Magglio’s Pizza are a fun way to do that.

Sometimes, when a team goes to a place that is, as fellow Network of Ballpark Collectors member Tim calls it, “a new cookie cutter,” I can’t help but feel something has been lost. Sometimes I feel like there’s something to the old-school places, but not Greer Stadium, I’m afraid. I don’t have any vivid memory of the place.

BALLPARK SCORE:

Regional feel:  5/10
Beyond the guitar and the name, very little.

Charm:  2/5
Again, not much other than the scoreboard.

Spectacle:  3/5

Team mascot/name:  3/5

Here’s Ozzie.  He’s a carbon copy of the Denver Nuggets’ Rocky.  He does nothing for me.  The name Sounds, however, is excellent.

Aesthetics:  1.5/5
This is an unattractive place with no real view.

Pavilion area:  1.5/5


Dull and crowded, but I like the names of the establishments.

Scoreability:  3/5

Fans:  5/5

Intangibles:  5/5
Catching a foul ball trumps everything.  Simply everything.

TOTAL:  29/50

BASEBALL STUFF I’VE SEEN HERE:

Salt Lake spots the Sounds a 4-0 lead, then comes back to win.  Mike Eylward’s sixth inning 2-run double erases the last of that lead.

Matt Wilhite of Bowling Green, Kentucky, got the win in front of many friends and family.

Vinny Rottino goes 0-for-4, including a double-play.

(Written September 2006.)

Joe Davis Stadium, Huntsville, Alabama

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Joe Davis Stadium, Huntsville, ALABAMA

Number of states:  still 32 (cancellation)
States to go:  18

Number of games: 0
July 28, 2006 (game cancelled–unplayable fields)

(Joe Davis stadium is no longer used for baseball as of the 2016 season.)
(Click on any image to see a larger version.)

It had rained all morning the day we headed to Alabama, but cleared up significantly in the afternoon.  I went back and forth all day on whether there would be a baseball game played that night.  Even as I walked up to the stadium, I thought that maybe there was a shot at a game.  The lawns surrounding the stadium were dry to the touch.  But the game was cancelled–unplayable fields.  Which led my wife and I to speculate:  how could the field

be unplayable when the lawn outside was nearly dry?

Our conclusion:  in spite of the forecast, somebody must have forgotten to cover the infield before the rain began.  Not impressive.

The Stars were running a promotion that day where fans could get in free with a donation to a local food bank.  Workers for the food bank were outside taking canned food and exchanging it for tickets to future games.  These nice people said I could probably find someone to talk to at the ticket office.

I wanted to ask for two things, both of which were longshots.  First of all, I wanted to see if I could get a refund for our tickets.  In the past, efforts to do this had been a mixed bag, but I was deeply appreciative last year when the folks in San Diego offered refunds for their freak rainout for anyone from out-of-state.  I understand that baseball teams have to make a buck, but this seems a reasonable policy to me.  Secondly, I wanted to see if, after all of that effort to get there, somebody might let me into the ballpark to

take a few pictures.

There was nobody from the Stars anywhere to be found.  (They should take a customer service lesson from the food bank people, who were all over the place.)  That’s strike two–they forgot to cover their field, and now they’re nowhere to be found.

The next morning, while on the road to Nashville, I called the Stars and talked to a staffer.  While she stated that they couldn’t offer a rebate, even to an out-of-stater, I was disappointed but not surprised.  She offered me an exchange for merchandise at their store, but I had already left the state.  Oh well.

What followed was breathtaking.

ME:  “Do you work with any charities that my wife and I can donate our tickets to?”

HER:  “No.”

ME:  “You don’t work with any charities?”

HER:  “Not that I’m aware of.”

ME:  “Not Big Brothers/Big Sisters?  Not the Boys’ and Girls’ Clubs?  Nobody?”

HER:  “Hold on…let me check.”  Long pause while she checks with co-workers.  She then returns.  “Sir?  We don’t work with any charities.”

Net result:  we decided to send the tickets to a Huntsville charity on our own.  And, as beautiful as I found the Huntsville area (gorgeous country there in northern Alabama), you can bet that I won’t go back for a Stars game.  When I return to officially cross Alabama off the list, I will do so in Birmingham, Montgomery, or Mobile.

(Written August 2006.)

Mile High Stadium

 

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photodraw240

From “Ballparks of Baseball” website.  Used by permission.

Mile High Stadium, Denver, CO

Number of minor league games:  A dozen or so (no stats or results survive–just a few memories)
First minor league game:  Probably late summer 1978 (Denver Bears 8, Wichita Aeroes 5)
Last minor league game:  Probably August 1991 (Denver Zephyrs vs. Iowa Cubs)

Number of Major League Games:  4
First Major League Game:  June 5, 1994 (Pirates 4, Rockies 3)
Last Major League Game:  June 28, 1994 (Padres 11, Rockies 3, 11 innings, 2nd game of doubleheader)

Mile High Stadium was demolished in 1999.

It has been destroyed along with so many other multipurpose stadiums, but I’d have to say Mile High Stadium is probably the best multipurpose stadium I’ve ever seen.  It’s because of those awesome movable East Stands, which actually glided on water to move from a cozy football position to a more distant baseball position.  And for a time, after Coors Field opened, there were a few people bemoaning the loss of Mile High, which averaged more in attendance than Coors could seat.  But those third-deck seats in Mile High were really, really up there–quite far away, especially if you were down the lines.  And those seats in center field…my, but they were a million miles away (although I liked that they sold them for a buck).  So Coors is a definite improvement, but I don’t think there was too much wrong with Mile High.  It was wonderfully quirky, in fact…homers to left were insanely easy, but homers to right were very difficult (I think it was something like 370 feet down the right field line, and the wall quite high.)

My very first pro baseball experiences were here.  The first pro game I ever attended would have been in the late summer of my 2nd or 3rd grade year…likely 1977 or 1978.  My T-ball team headed there one night to see the Montreal-affiliated Denver Bears beat the Wichita Aeroes 8-5.  I’m 99% sure that’s the score because I remember the linescore:

Wichita 050 000 000
Denver   111  111   02X

There was a bell to signify how many runs the Bears scored in each inning, so we kept hearing “The toll for the inning…[ding!]…one run.”  All else I remember from that night was missing a home run while in the bathroom, being uncomfortably near a foul ball, and being amazed that I was out at the ungodly hour of 10PM.

I recall snippets from the next 16-17 years of American Association baseball, through Expos, White Sox, Reds, and Brewers affiliations: a ceremony to honor Tim Raines’ record 77 stolen bases in a year (1980), Lloyd McClendon hitting for the cycle, several “let’s impress the major league teams and show that we love baseball by having a bunch of people show up at the park” nights, and singing the national anthem with my high school show choir.  Darryl Hamilton was signing autographs before the game on that anthem night, and I remember how game he was, signing whatever words we asked (I had him write “thanks for the tips!”, fellow HS singer Sheila had him write an elaborate love note along the lines of “you are my life…”) and how gracefully he handled it when Sheila asked him to prom.

Those minor league memories set the table for my major league experiences at Mile High, which were exclusively during the 1994 season.

I enjoyed one of these games with friends Michelle and Robby.  Robby scores the games too, but he uses wacky hieroglyphics only decipherable to him.  Archeologists could unearth my scorebook in ten thousand years, and would have no trouble whatsoever determining exactly what Eric Young did in the eighth inning that June day.  If they unearth Robby’s scorecard…well…they’ll probably think it’s some failed architectural plan.

Mile High was also host to my only-ever scheduled doubleheader.  I figured, hey, how could it get any better than this?  A doubleheader with dad.  That there is some father-son bonding.  But there’s a problem…Rockies pitching.  The doubleheader lasted absolutely forever.  It resulted in one of only two times in my life I’ve been compelled to leave a game early…the damn 11th inning of the damn second game was positively–and unprecedentedly (see below)–endless.  So I took pity on my Dad sometime during the eighteenth pitching change of the eleventh inning and let him take me home.

As much as I like the idea of the doubleheader, and as much as I laud suggestions that scheduled doubleheaders should be made more commonplace (this will never happen, however, as owners need each of the 81 games of revenue), I have a suggestion:  schedule no doubleheaders between teams whose earned run averages, when added together, are higher than 9.  We can’t handle that many walks and hits.

BASEBALL STUFF I’VE SEEN HERE:

In the first game of the June 28 doubleheader, the Rockies come back from an 8-run deficit to win, a Rockies record at the time (over the year and a half they’d existed).

The Padres set a record in the second game for most runs scored in an 11th inning (since 1900), lighting the Rockies up for nine.  It’s the only 11-3 pitchers’ duel I’ll ever see.

(Written July 2001.  Last updated July 2009.)