Category Archives: minor league

Ballparks of the affiliated Minor Leagues.

chicago cubs affiliates, double a, former arizona diamondbacks affiliates, minor league, southern league, tennessee

Smokies Park, Kodak, Tennessee

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tennesseeinprogress

Smokies Park, Kodak, TENNESSEE

Number of states:  18
States to go:  32

Number of games:  1
First game:  July 27, 2006 (Tennessee Smokies 6, Carolina Mudcats 5)

(Click on any image to see a larger version.)

“Hi, Paul,” the friendly email, subject line “Continuing Your Quest,” began.  “I was searching the internet for promotions ideas and I came across your website…I see that you have not been to Tennessee yet.  I am not saying

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that you will have a better experience than at any other minor league game, but I can assure you that you will enjoy yourself…I look forward to hearing from you and hope you will consider the Smokies for your Tennessee trip.”

With that email from the Smokies’ Dan Blue, I was hooked.  The idea that a guy in the front office of a minor league club

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would take the time to actually invite me to a game…well, that flattered me.  Since Tennessee was on the list for that summer anyway, I told him sure.  He then tried to talk me into a VIP package.  It was a little spendy, but it included killer seats, a free hat, and a chance to throw out the first pitch.  That sounded pretty good, but since there would be four of us traveling, I wanted all four of us to have something for that kind of money; not just one of us throwing out the pitch and one of us getting a hat.  He threw in an autographed baseball and a chance to announce a batter over the PA.  SOLD!  We divided out the tasks:  Rob would throw out the first pitch, Yolonda would get the hat, Michelle would get the ball, and I would get to go to the press box and announce a batter.  It was official:  I was a VIP.  Seriously.  Look–I really was:

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With that, the fun began.  Rob had to get his arm in gear for the first pitch.  We snuck past a “no admittance” sign

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back by one of the foul poles and got Rob’s arm into shape.  Nobody stopped us…indeed, I’m not sure anybody noticed us.  We all threw a baseball around, and Rob warmed up.

Next, Rob made it to the field.  He was one of about eight “first” pitches.  Included in that group was the Shoney’s bear and a boy celebrating his tenth birthday.  Here’s where we learn Rob is a fairly sick man.  The birthday boy didn’t know why he was on the field–I guess his parents wanted

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it to be a surprise.  So Rob told him:  “I think you’re going to sing.  Do you know the words?  ‘Oh say can you see…'”  The kid would have nothing of it.  “I don’t know that!”  Rob said “Well, how about this one?  ‘Take me out to the balllllgaaame…'”  He said he could sing that.  But he threw out a pitch instead.  As did Rob…a strike into the glove of left-handed pitcher Bill White, who signed the ball (which Rob subsequently annotated).

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With that, we got going with the game.

What a gorgeous ballpark Smokies Park is.  The outfield is surrounded by hills.  They’re not quite as gorgeous as the nearby Great Smokies, but they provide a lovely backdrop.  In fact, just past the right-field wall, there’s what

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might be the best picnic-table-for-baseball-fans in the US.  It was, at least at one time, the KOA Kampground for East Knoxville.  I currently cannot find a KOA listing for East Knoxville, but the picnic table remains.  There’s a good view of the field from all seats and just about all of the concourse.  One can circumnavigate the stadium on a walkway, or sit and chill on a grassy hill beyond the outfield wall. 
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On a night warmer than Waffle House syrup, it’s nice to see the hills fade into darkness behind quality double-A baseball.

The Smokies did well balancing the wacky promotions with the baseball.  There were some promotions between innings–a three-legged race which caused a pair of siblings to become exceedingly angry with each other, for starters–but for the most part, they let the baseball take center stage.  Dan came by to hang out with us for a couple of innings, chatting about his past experiences in baseball with me and my wife–a veteran of the minor league baseball milieu.  He addressed the unique challenges of promoting the Smokies; since they play so close to the most-visited national park in the USA (in fact, there’s a National Park office in the stadium building), about 25% of their visitors are

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tourists.  It certainly held true to my experience–I chatted with a mother from Florida for a good part of the game.

Next came my big moment.  In the fifth inning, I headed up to the box with Dan and awaited my big moment announcing a batter.

This was no consolation prize to Rob’s throwing out of the first pitch.  I wanted to do this.  Big time.  I serve as the PA announcer for the football team at the high school where I work.  The key to it, as I see it, is to avoid cheerleading for the home team, and to keep the voice under control.  In fact, during high school games, when I give credit to the chain crew, spotters, and scoreboard operator, I finish by saying:  “And I

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‘m Bob Sheppard.”  So to avoid the sins of some other PA guys I’ve heard, I knew what I would do.  Take it easy.  Take it slow.  Give the number, position, and name.  Savor the syllables.  But at Smokies Park, I actually felt a little bit guilty taking a batter away from George Yardley, the PA announcer.  He may well be the best PA guy I’ve ever heard at a minor league ballpark…a deep, deep voice with just enough of a gorgeous pecan-pie Southern accent to remind me where I was. George: you’re the man.

I didn’t expect to enjoy being in the press box as much as I did.  The guys–mostly good ol’ Tennessee boys–made me feel exceedingly welcome.  They clearly loved doing what they did for a living.  They have the best view of the game of anyone.  The scoreboard operator was even wearing a glove.  They were enjoying a conversation with me about my ballpark travels as Mark Reynolds came to the plate…

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and that conversation was soon

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interrupted by their whoops.  Reynolds hit a massive home run off of the scoreboard.  It was awesome to be there for what turned out to be the biggest play of the game.  In the midst of the cheering, George grabbed a stuffed bear, squeezed it so that it made a heartbeat sound, and held the bear to the microphone.  That sound reverberated throughout the ballpark.

Unfortunately, I had to follow that up, so it’s possible nobody heard my big moment.  George said:  “And now, to announce the next batter, here is V.I.P. Paul Hamann.”

All I wanted was a batter with a kick-butt name; ideally a Hispanic one (I, like Sheppard, love pronouncing those Latino players’ names).  And I got it.  Complete with pregnant pauses, and without a hint of homerism:

“Now batting…the first baseman…number thirty-one…Augustin…Murillo.”

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Sheppardesque?  Yardleyish? Maybe not.  But damn fun.  (For the record, Murillo popped to the catcher.)

Ever wonder how they figure

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out how far a home run is hit?  I saw the incredibly scientific process take place right in front of my eyes.  Somebody asked:  “Where did that ball hit?”  They figured out that it hit an advertisement on the base of the scoreboard.  After some argument as to whether it reached there on the fly or on the bounce, the best PA guy in the minor leagues got out a list of distances.  He ran his finger down to the distance to the base of the scoreboard, added a few feet, and queried:  “Does 441 feet sound okay?”  They agreed, and he informed the crowd in his million-dollar voice:  “That last home run by Mark Reynolds traveled 441 feet!”  Not exactly a scientific process, but they did the best they could with the tools they had.

I don’t have anything bad to say about Smokies Park, and that is reflected in its very high score.  Does the score have anything to do with the fact that Dan bumped up his VIP package to include getting me onto the microphone?  Absolutely!  This isn’t Congress.  This isn’t Consumer Reports. Bribery is completely acceptable here.  (Minor league salespeople everywhere:  take note!).

BALLPARK SCORE:

Regional feel:  7/10
Could do a little better here:  perhaps it’s hard to feel local-Tennessee when one is surrounded by so many tourists.  But the surrounding hills help this score.

Charm:  5/5
Lovely architecture and nice surroundings.

Spectacle:  5/5
My VIP experience was filled with baseball-centric spectacle.

Team mascot/name:  4/5

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Three mascots.  The top one is from Shoney’s:  he threw out a first pitch after Rob.  In the middle is a shark from Ripley’s Aquarium of the Smokies.  At the bottom is Slugger with the annoying promotions guy.  The team name is great, and I like the multiple mascots, who were fun while never interfering with the game.  But I’m not a big fan of the generic name “Slugger” (or of his sister’s name, “Diamond,” not pictured).

Aesthetics:  4.5/5
Quite lovely.

Pavilion area:  4/5

Scoreability:  4/5

Fans:  5/5

Intangibles:  5/5
Just tremendous.  A great VIP night with fellow baseball-lovers.  One of the best nights I’ve ever had at a ballpark.

TOTAL:  43.5/50

BASEBALL STUFF I’VE SEEN HERE:

Mark Reynolds is the difference-maker, hitting a three-run homer as far as you’ll ever see a ball hit.

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Augustin Murillo went 2-for-4 with two runs.

Brett Carroll his a 2-run home run for the Mudcats to make it closer.

Ria Cortesio serves as the first-base umpire, making this the first baseball game with a female umpire I’ve ever attended–at any level.

(Written August 2006.)
former new york yankees affiliates, international league, minor league, no longer in use, ohio, triple a

Cooper Stadium, Columbus, Ohio

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columbusinprogress

Cooper Stadium, Columbus, OHIO

Number of states:  17
States to go:  33

First and last game:  July 25, 2006 (Columbus Clippers 9, Durham Bulls 1)

 
(Cooper Stadium is no longer in use for baseball as of the 2009 season.)
(Click on any image to view a larger version.)
 

To be sure, there were quite a number of issues with Cooper Stadium.  Its age shows, and not gracefully.  I dislike the ancient PA system, the charmless pavilion, and the less-than-understated Carmina Burana playing

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as the team takes the field.  However, this July evening turned into a marvelously fun evening with loads of friends–an evening I was pleased to have.

Rob, Yolonda, Michelle and I made it to Cooper Stadium after a day at South Point, Ohio (near the tri-point of Ohio, Kentucky, and West Virginia).  Buddies Joe and Alison gathered loads of friends and led us to the tenth row behind the third-base dugout.  As happens so many times when I get together with buddies for a ballgame, there were many bizarre and memorable events to pass along.

For starters, the whole bunch of us nearly died in the second inning.  The Clippers’ Jeff Karstens pitched to the Bulls’ Elijah Dukes.  He must have fooled him very badly on a pitch, because as Dukes missed for strike two, he released his bat and it went flying behind him.

And right towards us.

Right the hell towards us.

Even if I had wanted the bat and been foolish enough to reach up for the bat, it likely would have just hit my forearms.  So I joined all of my friends in ducking down very low.  I did not want to get hit by a flying bat. 

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As buddy Joe (wearing the Orioles hat in the photo) put it, “I’d prefer to go the rest of my life without the little voice in my head saying ‘you’re not ducking deep enough’ ever again.”

As we dusted ourselves off and made sure all of our appendages remained, and as we confirmed that the people a couple of rows behind us were also unhurt, we missed Dukes grounding out to third.  We also missed Dukes being ejected by the home plate umpire.  This ejection led the Devil Rays to finally get so fed up with Dukes (in part because he had earlier said that “the major leaguers shower in Perrier while we get sewer water”) that they suspended him for the rest of the season.  I appreciate the D-Rays’ priorities.  Only AFTER he threw a bat at me did they toss him.  Indeed, perhaps

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the D-Rays knew that I was a sports official–in the year when Delmon Young chucked a bat at the home plate umpire, I would merely be the latest official a Durham Bull threw a bat at in 2006.

When I wasn’t in danger of dying, there were a few things I liked about Cooper Stadium.  They did a fine job respecting the Clippers’ history, which, as of 2006, meant New York

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Yankees’ history.  I love ballparks that have lineups from past years on display, and Cooper Stadium had artists’ renditions of lineups from every year from the Clippers’ history as a Yankees’ affiliate.  The mixture of all-time greats with who-the-heck-is-thats is one of my favorite parts of being at a ballpark, and Cooper Stadium does it well.  As of the end of the 2006 season, the Yankees ended their relationship with the Clippers.  I do hope that they keep the old Yankees’ pictures up; when I’m at a minor league ballpark, I want to see the local minor
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league team’s history, not the history of the major league team.  Wichita, Tulsa, and High Desert all celebrate past minor leaguers from who played at that park even after affiliate shifts.  We’ll see if the Clippers have that same sense of history, or if their new parent club orders the relics of recent Yankee history taken down.

No other aspects of the ballpark blew me away.  I was a little taken aback by the fact that a cemetery is visible beyond the outfield fence.  When my mind and eyes wander during a Clippers’ game, they wander to headstones. A particularly massive home run at Cooper Stadium would not impress the fans so much as remind them of their mortality.  The pavilion is typically dank and dull.  They try to make it up with a miniature golf course.  I’m not a big fan of such unnecessary distractions from the baseball–any fan who’d prefer golf to

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baseball isn’t a fan at all–and on top of that, the mini-golf course is so poorly and hastily assembled that it’s actually worse than it could be.

This is also my second visit to a Yankees’ affiliate, and the second time that the team played “New York, New York” after a victory.  I hated that just as much here as I did in Battle Creek.  We’re not in New York, and these aren’t the Yankees.  Let’s keep that music special for Yankee Stadium.

Occasionally, it’s a close race to actually be a charming old ballpark–the old, covered seating with beams obstructing views is a blast from the past–but I’m afraid that there are just too many negatives.  Nevertheless, I’ll probably be back. With so many friends so close by, I’ll certainly be back to see if they do any upgrades–and if those upgrades will maintain the current sense of history.

BALLPARK SCORE:

Regional feel:  7/10
The ballpark’s strong sense of Clippers’ history earns points here.

Charm:  2/5
Not much.  Old in and of itself does not mean charming, and Cooper Stadium demonstrates this.

Spectacle:  3.5/5
Not bad for the triple-A level, although the promotions they had were occasionally annoying.

Team mascot/name:  3/5

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Joe, me, and Krash the First Mate.  Not pictured:  Lou Seal.  Nothing offensive or impressive about any mascot-related matters.

Aesthetics:  2.5/5
Sort of old and dusty–and the view is of a cemetery, which is creepy.

Pavilion area:  1.5/5

Scoreability:  3/5

Fans:  5/5
Great friends.  I look forward to going to the new place with them.

Intangibles:  2.5/5
I had a fun night, but in the end, this place didn’t leave me with a positive impression.

TOTAL:  29.5/50

BASEBALL STUFF I’VE SEEN HERE:

The Clippers rough up the Bulls’ Doug Waechter for four first-inning runs.

Columbus’s nine runs include five unearned runs off of four Bull errors, including a pair by B.J. Upton.

B.J. Upton and Bronson Sardinha homer.

Jeff Karstens pitches 7 innings of 1-run ball.

(Written August 2006.)
appalachian league, minor league, rookie level, tampa bay rays affiliates, west virginia

Hunnicutt Field, Princeton, West Virginia

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princetoninprogress

Hunnicutt Field, Princeton, WEST VIRGINIA

Number of states:  16
States to go:  34

Number of games:  1
First game:  July 24, 2006 (Greeneville Astros 8, Princeton Devil Rays 6)

(Click on any image to see a larger version.)

I’m not positive about this, since I haven’t looked up the populations of all 220 minor-league cities, but I’m fairly sure that Princeton, West Virginia is the smallest town with an affiliated minor league baseball team.  My American

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Map atlas lists its population as only 6,000.  I’m impressed that it supports a minor league club.

I didn’t get much of a feel for the town, but it was obvious that it was small enough that the Devil Rays are HUGE there.  The town’s newspaper, the Princeton Times, is only a weekly, and in the copy I bought, Devil Rays news covered most of the 20-ish pages.  The front-page photo, above the fold, celebrated the Devil Rays’ victory of the Mercer Cup, a trophy which goes to the winner of the season series between the P-Rays and the Bluefield Orioles just down the road.  (It’s worth noting that the Orioles, while they represent Bluefield, West Virginia, play just

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across the border in Virginia, in what might be the ballpark closest to a state border).

The ballpark itself isn’t in any kind of unique location, and does very little to let me know where I am.  The view outside of the ballpark includes a Wendy’s and a McDonald’s.  There aren’t any mountains or other landmarks that let me know I’m in West Virginia or Appalachia.  So I was prepared to give it a low “is there any question where you are” score, which would have doomed the ballpark to a poor score.  However, the workers for the Devil Rays gave me a whole lot of small-town hospitality, and since I was in the smallest town in the minor leagues, they get a lot of credit for that.

It all started with my Everett AquaSox cap.  There is nothing in common between the AquaSox and the D-Rays save a love of colors in the bluish-green family. 

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They do not share geography, a league, an affiliation, or much else.  But the guy who offered me a 50-50 raffle ticket looked at my hat and said “Everett AquaSox?”  Nice!  I love minor league workers who are knowledgeable about the minor leagues…it makes the whole experience into a celebration of minor league ball.

Later that night, I headed out to meet Rob and Yolonda in the large-but-nondescript pavilion area (Rob was late to the game due to a horrendous cut-lip-on-broken-beer-bottle mishap in the pregame).  While out there, I saw the man I took to be one of the higher-ups at the ballpark.  I was right–it was the general manager, Jim Holland.  “Everett AquaSox!” he said to me.  I said I was impressed, and that they were my home team.  A conversation ensued where I told him we were trying

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to make it out to a lot of minor league parks.  His response:  “You look like one of those people.”  Indeed, if “those people” are ballpark travelers, I am one.  I just wasn’t aware there was a look about us.  (My guess is “dorky-looking.”)  In exchange for my troubles, he offered me a free shot with the sledge-hammer at the “Hit a Car, Not a Pet” junker car.  I took a swing, and he offered me several more.  I’m basically a non-violent man, but it was nice to get any potential axe-murdering instincts I might have out of my system.  They gave Rob some free shots too.  Here’s one of them:

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The fans were quite sweet.  There were loads of middle-aged ladies waving handbells around.  Jim told me they were called the “Rah-Rah Sisterhood.”  I got the sense that a good number of them

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were host families or friends of the D-Rays players, and in a town of 6,000, it wouldn’t surprise me in the least if players regularly encountered a healthy fraction of townspeople.  I could feel that.

And where else other than a town whose only bookstores are Christian bookstores would the primary mascot be Roscoe the Drug-Free Rooster?  Roscoe wandered around giving hugs to just about everyone in attendance.  He headed up in my direction and hugged me.  I talked to him, saying “How are you?”  Much to my surprise, Roscoe talked back to me.  “I’m fine, how are you doing?”  His accent was slow and

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sweet.  I don’t know why, but that made me feel especially good on this night.

The ballpark itself had some interesting quirks.  A walk behind the stands reveals two nice places to stand.  First, down the third base line, a spectator can walk to a vantage point where he/she can peer backwards into the visitors’ dugout (not unlike Battle Creek’s C.O. Brown Stadium) or right at the bullpen.  Underneath the home plate stands there is a wonderful little vista featuring a bench that, as best as I could figure, anybody could occupy–although it appeared spoken for by a couple of regulars.  They honor past P-Rays who have moved on to the big club with pictures on the outfield wall.  And I recommend the fried bologna sandwich, although don’t get caught making the same assumption I did.  I thought

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the adjective “fried” applied to the whole sandwich…that they were taking the entire sandwich and dipping in the deep fryer beside the french fries, kind of like Elvis with his peanut butter and banana sandwiches.  That didn’t turn out to be the case. Instead, they had just fried the bologna.  Pretty good stuff…tasted like ring baloney.

By the end of the night, I really had a positive feeling about the ballpark.  I came close to winning a hundred bucks by throwing a tennis ball into a hula hoop (a fairly tough task…the stands are very, very high above the field, and the hula hoop was well out onto the field…but I just came up a few inches short, way closer than anyone else).  Jim, on the field, let us go by saying “We love you!” The cool thing is, after a great night of baseball, I felt like he meant it.  And when we passed him by on the way out and he wished us safe travels…yes, he remembered us…well, I guess it was confirmed.

So, on the whole, the ballpark has just enough charm, quirkiness, and sweetness to win me over in spite of its drawbacks.  If I make it back there, probably to visit Bluefield, I wouldn’t mind seeing Hunnicutt Field again.

BALLPARK SCORE:

Regional feel:  6/10
The view from the seating bowl is dull, and could be from any of the 50 states.  But the fried bologna sandwich and small-town hospitality bump up the score a bit.

Charm:  4.5/5
All over the place.

Spectacle:  4/5
Pretty good.  While we missed the “everybody gets in free” promotion by 24 hours, and while the “Christian Baseball Night” may be strange to me were I of another faith, there was plenty going on–a moving mascot, a sledge hammered car, food–that was appropriate for low-level ball, but never got in the way of the game.  And I came close to winning a hundred bucks.

Team mascot/name:  3.5/5

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Roscoe the Drug-Free Rooster is a bit of a non-sequitur for a marine-based team, but he was a nice guy.  The name “Devil Rays” was appropriate for Appalachian League naming conventions.

Aesthetics:  1.5/5
The one way this park was lacking.  Quirky, but not exactly attractive–and the view is not at all good.

Pavilion area:  3/5
Not terribly picturesque, but I like the sledge-hammer and car.

Scoreability:  3/5
A few minor slip-ups.

Fans:  4/5

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Intangibles:  5/5
On the whole, an excellent night.  Any game that ends with the GM saying “We love you!” and my not being creeped out by it is a good night.

TOTAL:  34.5/50

BASEBALL STUFF I’VE SEEN HERE:

The Astros’ balanced attack includes two RBI each from Brandon Caipen, Ralph Henriquez, and Andrew Darnell.

Andrew Lopez hits three doubles and drives in two in a losing effort.

(Written August 2006.)
appalachian league, former chicago white sox affiliates, minor league, pittsburgh pirates affiliates, rookie level, virginia

DeVault Stadium, Bristol, Virginia

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bristolinprogress

DeVault Stadium, Bristol, VIRGINIA

Number of states:  15
States to go:  35

First game:  July 23, 2006 (Johnson City Cardinals 5, Bristol Sox 2)

Much like Asheville, I was thrilled that my ballpark travels brought me to Bristol. When on earth would I have ever made it to the Virginia/Tennessee border otherwise?  There, I found a gorgeous ballpark in a charming, quirky town.  There was a big show on State Street and loads of activity on both Tennessee’s and Virginia’s sidewalks, but we headed a little ways into Virginia to enjoy my first-ever Rookie League game.

The trip there from Hickory, NC was a good chunk of the fun.  We took the Blue Ridge Parkway a lot of the way.  Who would want to ever

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put themselves on an interstate again after that?  We were accompanied much of the way by a Christian motorcycle group, and then meandered up to the gorgeous NC/TN/VA tri-point.  Even with that much activity, we did make it to the ballpark just in time for first pitch.

On the way in, there’s a plaque commemorating the astonishing accomplishment of one Ron Necciai.  The plaque tells us that he pitched what can only be called a mega-perfect game…or so I thought.  A little bit of research revealed to me that he didn’t strike out 27 guys in a row.  In fact, with two out in the third inning, the catcher dropped one of his third strikes, thus enabling him to move on to strikeout victim #27.  One guy managed to make contact, and I’m not certain how many walked…so the accomplishment is a

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little misleading.  On top of that, this English teacher is a little troubled by a critical misspelling…Necciai’s hapless opponents were the Welch Miners (of Welch, West Virginia) and not the Welsh Miners (who, for all I know, could be from Aberystwyth).  Still, it served as an excellent welcome to the stadium. It was nice to walk the lengthy trip from parking lot to stadium and be greeted by a sense of local baseball history.

DeVault Stadium is a part of a high-school complex (signs boast that Virginia High School plays there) in the midst of a gorgeous valley.  It does very nicely in the “regional feel” department because, literally everywhere I looked, there was something appropriate to the area.  In addition to the plaque, I could look past the outfield fence.  Past left field?  A valley, lined with trees on either side.  Check.  Past right field? 

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A couple of small-towny houses.  Check.  Where am I?  Not far from the mountains in the small-town South.

Bristol manages to be small-town in its presentation as well as its location.  As best as I could tell, it was staffed entirely by local retirees–with few exceptions, I didn’t encounter anybody under 65.  I’ve got nearly 30 years left, but maybe I can talk my wife into retiring there.  Bristol looked beautiful, probably is not terribly expensive, and we could spend the summers of our golden years chilling out at a lovely ballpark. My favorite of the senior citizens was the PA guy. He was so laid-back it was hilarious. As kids got on the field to do the game-opening “find your shoe that we’ve stolen” game, for instance, he didn’t go overboard with the high-pitched, high-volume, the-Hindenburg-is-crashing excitement that so many PA guys are going with. Heck, he barely said anything…something like: “All right. We’re about to do the shoe race…and here it is.” Loved the guy.

Perhaps my favorite aspect of the ballpark is the tree-lined hill behind the foul lines.  It

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provides a place for people to sit back and watch the game and for kids to play ball.  It creates a buffer zone between the ballpark and the surrounding neighborhood, which I appreciate.  There are even trees that obscure the ballpark in a few places, which somehow adds to the charm.

It was here that I further developed a rule for minor-league ballparks.  Many minor league ballparks have grassy hills from which kids can watch the game.  Seeing what happens on the grassy hills is a good indication of how seriously a ballpark takes its baseball.  As best as I can tell, there are three levels.  The l

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owest level is a place where kids are pounding the snot out of each other in a Lord of the Flies-style melee for nine innings.  That means that the baseball is incidental, probably both to spectators and management.  The next level up is a place where kids don’t pay attention to the game because they’re playing ball…playing catch, or, in the case of these kids at Bristol, taking grounders off of a wall.  The next level features kids predominantly watching the game, although occasionally burning off steam.  That’s an impressive level and worth striving for.  But at Bristol, I had to invent a new level, because I looked over at one point and found an empty hill.  The kids were all in the seats watching the game with their families.  That’s an extraordinary achievement.  Check out this rule the next time you are at a ballpark with grassy hills.

Further adding to Bristol’s charm: 

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the least expensive concessions I have ever encountered at a ballpark, with all proceeds going to Virginia High School.

DeVault Stadium also marked the the first time that I encountered visiting play-by-play guys (or at least I think that’s what they were) at the ballpark.  I guess that the press box doesn’t offer too much space, because sitting in the top corner of the first-base bleachers were two guys wearing the colors of the visiting Johnson City Cardinals.   The play-by-play and color were provided by the same guy, and he didn’t seem to want to talk much.  It looks like the other guy is doing a video recording of the game: maybe he wants to critique his performance.  Perhaps he’s not the official radio guy for the Cardinals–maybe this is just what he does for fun, much like I would turn down the volume and do play-by-play in my basement as a child.  Still, it was bizarre to say the least.

Other things we noticed about the ballpark:  They put a radar gun right out

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in the middle of the stands behind home plate.  Although they have a scoreboard display of the speed of the pitch, it’s pretty cool to be able to walk up to the actual gun.

These are the kinds of touches that made this such a marvelous stadium.  It just felt right.

Two bizarre incidents stand out on this night.  Michelle and I spotted a young woman who clearly was interested in hooking up with one (or more) Johnson City Cardinals.  She wound up hanging out in the stands by the couple of Cardinals who were to chart pitches. 

bristolbunny
Needless to say, they were not at all interested in their job.  In fact, I actually saw one of them give a sustained caress to her butt.  She didn’t even recoil a little bit.  Hel-LO, kiddoes!  There are people behind that behind!  Get a room!  Looks like somebody doesn’t have enough interest in the craft of pitching to last.

The stud of the night was home plate umpire Tommy Sewell.  In the eighth inning, a foul ball smashed off of the dirt and into his left hand.  I’m 99% sure it broke his pinkie finger…and yet he finished the game, holding his hand awkwardly on his knee behind home plate.  I didn’t see him take so much as an aspirin.  Tommy–way to be, dude.

bristolfrom1b

Also, In the midst of the night, Yolonda, the least baseball-crazy of the four of us taking this intense trip, seemed to have something click.  Even though we were sitting on highly uncomfortable cinderblocks (if I go back, I sit on the lawn instead), she got the point of these travels we were in the midst of.  “I can see the appeal of this,” she said, looking over the diamond at a Virginia sunset.

I’ll try to make it back to Bristol if I ever get a chance.

BALLPARK SCORE:

Regional feel: 8.5/10
Very good here.  Geographically gorgeous.

Charm:  5/5
As good as it gets.

Spectacle:  3.5/5
Quietly effective.  I’m sort of torn here, since I like a few promotions at my low-level minors, but here, the quietness added to the charm.

Team mascot/name:  2.5/5
No mascot–it’d have been nice to have one, but then again, I liked the laid-backness of living without one.  The name “Sox” fits in with the Appalachian League naming conventions, sort of.  (Why not “White Sox”?)

Aesthetics:  4.5/5
Architecturally, it ain’t much, but oh those trees and that valley.  Flat-out beautiful.

bristoltrees

Pavilion area:  5/5

Scoreability:  1/5
Many, many, many missed decisions.

Fans:  4/5

Intangibles:  5/5
A great little ballpark in a great little town.  I’ll do all I can to get back.

TOTAL:  39/50

BASEBALL STUFF I’VE SEEN HERE:

Henderson Lugo starts the 5-hit shutout…but only lasts four innings.  Oscar Lara finishes it with three innings of relief and gets the win.

(Written August 2006.)
demolished, former chicago white sox affiliates, international league, minor league, no longer in use, south carolina, triple a

Knights Stadium, Fort Mill, South Carolina

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charlottefrom1b

Knights Stadium, Fort Mill, SOUTH CAROLINA

Number of states:  14
States to go:  36

Number of games:  1
First and last game:  July 22, 2006 (Scranton/Wilkes-Barre Red Barons 4, Charlotte Knights 3, 12 innings; game suspended at 3-3 after 10 innings and finished on July 23 without me)

(Knights Stadium was no longer used for baseball as of 2014, and was demolished in 2015.)
(Click on any image to see a lager version.)

After a day hiking to Ellicott Rock (the place where Georgia, North Carolina, and South Carolina meet), we got to Knights Stadium a little late…the gorgeous roads through

charlottewatertower
the western Carolinas take a little longer to drive across than we had anticipated.  This led to an unprecedented event in my ballpark history:  unexpected free parking.  We were in a long, long line to get into the parking lot, worrying about whether we’d make the first pitch.  We got out a
charlottesanta
wallet to pay for parking, but when we got to the edge of the parking lot, they simply waved us in.  They passed up on hundreds and perhaps thousands of dollars to make sure that the lion’s share of the huge Fireworks Night crowd could get in on time.  I appreciate that.

We approached the stadium as they sang the National Anthem.  It was a hot night with a foreboding storm approaching.  Outside the ballpark–very active on this fireworks night–I encountered what had to be a lost, disoriented, and terribly hot Santa Claus.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen him wearing shorts before, with the possible exception of the claymation Santa reclining and relaxing in Peter Cottontail. Michelle and I made it to our seats just as the first batter, Michael Bourn, was retired.

I’m afraid the ballpark had very little special about it.  While I liked the grassy areas down the foul lines, on the whole, Charlotte felt too big to be charming,

charlotteexterior
but too small to be expansively impressive.  It was a bizarre tweener with an identity crisis.  Where many AAA ballparks try to be like small major-league ballparks–which is its own problem sometimes–Charlotte seemed to go a different direction and instead tried to be a large minor-league ballpark, at least physically.  The two decks looked like something I’d see at a small park, only bigger.  On the other hand, the ballpark took some of my least-favorite aspects of big-time parks and incorporated them.

Let me take one example of this and make it as clear as I possibly can, hoping that ballparks everywhere heed me:  There is absolutely no reason, ever, anywhere, for any ballpark to have a carousel.  I’m fine with kids running around and jumping, and I can even live with the climbing wall.  But a carousel?  Ridiculous.  The idea of taking kids to a ballgame is to get them to like baseball, not to avoid it.  From now on, if I see a carousel in a ballpark, the ballpark will be penalized.  Severely.

Scoring was difficult at Knights Stadium as well.  They couldn’t keep track of who was at bat very well, and were completely absent on a key wild pitch/passed ball decision.  I find that these are the toughest

charlotteseating
plays to score from the stands, but the most frequently ignored by scoreboard people, which is too bad.  Beyond that, however, the Knights did a decent job putting on a show.  Nothing special–not old-school reserved, not new-school fun–just serviceable.

What I’ll remember most from this night is wondering if we’d get a game in on time.  A big storm was building up to our north and west, and we could see lightning off on the horizon past left field.  Was the storm passing us to the north, or was it eventually going to nail us?  The game chugged along, and in spite of the light show, it was rain free.  But when Charlotte tied the game in the bottom of the eighth, and extra innings became imminent, well, it became unlikely we’d get to see the game end.  The umpires held out through some impressive rain in the bottom of the 10th as the Knights got two on with one out…but a double-play ended the inning,

charlotteview
and the tarp came out immediately.  We didn’t kid ourselves by trying to wait…the big storm was going to end baseball that night.

Much to my surprise, the Knights went ahead and had the fireworks show anyway while everyone ran desperately through the downpour to their cars.  I wish I were a more talented photographer, because we were treated to a display of fireworks going off above lightning strikes…very impressive indeed.  Also impressive was how well my wife drove through the thunderstorm to the hotel.

The Knights are building a new downtown ballpark to replace Knights Stadium, and this is a case where one is warranted.  The location will be better, and the personality-free Knights Stadium will likely not be missed by any fans.  But I’m thankful I got there…it enabled me to cross South Carolina off my list with only a very short jaunt across the border.

BALLPARK SCORE:

Regional feel:  5/10
Were it not for the thunderstorm, this score would be even lower–but truthfully, there was no way of telling where we were.

Charm:  3/5
Not much, but not totally impaired here either.

Spectacle:  3/5
A fair number of promotions–perhaps too many for AAA.  But the fireworks in front of the lightning stay in my mind as a heck of a spectacle.

Team mascot/name:  2/5

charlottemascot

Homer.  Dumb name.  And what’s up with a dragon representing the Knights?  Don’t knights slay dragons?

Aesthetics:  3.5/5
Some trees.  Again, the score is aided by the fireworks-with-lightning.

Pavilion area:  2/5
Nothing doing.  It’s mostly cement, and where it isn’t cement, they’ve put in a carousel.  Ick.

Scoreability:  2/5

Fans:  4/5
I liked the huge crowd, their enthusiasm, and the way they stuck around, even though many of them ran for cover at the first tiny sprinkle. Come on, Knights fans…in Seattle, we picnic in sprinkles.

Intangibles:  2/5
The ballpark, on the whole, did nothing for me.

TOTAL:  26.5/50

BASEBALL STUFF I’VE SEEN HERE:

Scranton/Wilkes-Barre took a 3-0 lead on a Josh Kroeger triple, but could not hold onto the lead.  They win in the 12th on a Brennan King home run…but by then, I’m most of the way to Bristol.

Ruben Rivera homers for Charlotte.

(Written August 2006.)
california, former oakland as affiliates, minor league, pacific coast league, san francisco giants affiliates, triple a

Raley Field, Sacramento, California

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sacramentoinprogress

Raley Field, Sacramento, CALIFORNIA

Number of states:  still 13
States to go:  37

Number of games:  1
First game:  July 3, 2006 (Salt Lake Bees 2, Sacrameto RiverCats 0)

(Click on any image to see a larger version.)

I’ve never heard anybody talk about Sacramento as a destination before.  Indeed, I’ve never heard anybody talk about Sacramento at all before, unless listing state capitals.  For those reasons, I was not expecting to be impressed by Sacramento.  I was, and I especially was impressed by its ballpark.

For starters, the location is ideal.  They’ve placed the ballpark on the river, just across from downtown, much like in Wichita.  From every seat in the ballpark,

sacramentoskyline
and even from much of the concourse, there’s a fantastic view of the bridge that would lead you right to Arnold Schwarzenegger’s desk, if you were so inclined as to pay him a visit.  Sacramento’s downtown rises up behind and around the bridge, so the ballpark passes the important “is there any question where you are” test by virtue of sheer location.  Approaching and leaving the ballpark is a major part of the experience here.  I highly recommend parking downtown and strolling along Sacramento’s river walk on the way to the ballpark.  River walks are beautiful no matter where they are, and Sacramento’s is near loads of fun shops and night spots.  Then, cross the bridge on the south side (the stadium side)…otherwise, you’ll be forced to do a fairly lengthy detour back under the bridge (there wasn’t a convenient way to cross the street near the stadium).  I’d recommend against getting to the ballpark too early, since there’s minimal shade to wait in by the southeast entrance.  I’m always a fan of the experience of a ballgame starting on approach (Boston does this well in the walk from the T station, and Seattle isn’t too shabby
sacramentooutfield
either, at least in the approach to the ballpark from the north).  The experience of approaching Raley Field is as wonderful as that of any minor league ballpark I’ve experienced to date, and that’s important.  The ambience of a sold-out crowd approaching a ballpark is unmatched, and the RiverCats’ Independence Day Fireworks celebration had the crowd in a festive mood.

I especially appreciated this ambience on this trip, as my wife and I finished off our 4th annual Fourth Of July Baseball Road Trip, and our first as a married couple.

My wife and I have pretty much decided that the annual Fourth of July Baseball Road Trip will be a continued tradition, including after we have children.  How will the kids respond to this tradition?  I can just picture them complaining about it, saying “How come we can’t stay home and barbecue like normal people?”  But I bet we can make this into a wonderful tradition.  I’ve spent 4ths of July enjoying packed houses all along the West Coast.  I’ve watched people from four states ooh and aah at fireworks displays.  When the trip is timed right (as it was this year), I’ve seen multiple fireworks shows in multiple ballparks,

sacramentotree
with almost every night a packed house.  I often feel like a stealth American, sticking an American flag into my hat and watching yet another small town or small city celebrate the USA.  I’ve grown to love the tradition.  And since families need traditions, even if my kids whine about this one through their teenage years, I think that they will look back fondly at these when they happen.  Of course, they’ll all be recorded on this site.  But I digress.

Inside the ballpark, Raley Field has several touches that help to expand the festive feel of the approach to the ballpark.  First, general admission tickets will get a seat on the grass beyond right field, and that space was totally packed on this day (although the spots in the shade went first).  There doesn’t appear to be a bad seat at Raley Field; the grandstand consists of just one level of seats beneath some skyboxes, including a batch down the right-field line that appears to include a Tiki-themed restaurant.

The pavilion area is quite lovely since it provides a mostly-unobstructed view of the field of play and even of the Sacramento skyline. 

sacramentolineups
I like the ability to get my concessions without missing any play.  And
sacramentoart
while I’m hardly a ballpark foodie, Sacramento’s concessions were notably good:  the nachos I bought from the Mexican place had guacamole, black olives, and sour cream–not just the usual orange goo in a plastic-corner-cubby.  My wife was stoked at a chance to buy a root beer float, but alas, they ran out.  Still, the idea that it is possible to do this at a ballpark wins my raves.   Also, the pavilion area had several nice, baseball-related touches.  There are two fairly cool three-dimensional bits of art depicting fans leaning out of the walls to get a better look at the game.  Also, the lineups are presented on sandwich-cutouts shaped like umpires, which I appreciated.  So rarely are there positive depictions of umpires in the world–these provide a nice change.

With quality AAA baseball in such a gorgeous setting, the RiverCats don’t need to do much in the way of distracting promotions, and for the most part, they don’t, which I liked.  On this Independence Day celebration, they did some strange stuff on the scoreboard, asking trivia questions and providing random facts about our nation and its presidents.  It was fun to play along during breaks in the action.

sacramentotrivia

Beyond that, the baseball was central.

I was a little bit troubled by the self-declared “Team Mom” seated in the front row of our section.  The idea of the RiverCats needing a team mom is a little bit creepy.  I can understand the purpose of both declared

sacramentomom
and undeclared team moms at the rookie and short-season A levels.  There, you’ve got kids who are fresh out of college, fresh out of high school, or even (in the case of some Latin American ballplayers) younger and on their own for the first time.  The need for host families in a small town and someone to help these young men with what might be their first forays into rent and laundry are welcome.  My wife’s experience working for a short-season A team backs this theory up.  But the youngest kid on the team was nearly 24, the median age of the RiverCats players was 26, and a significant minority of them were in their 30s.  None of them were fresh out of college (nobody starts their career at Triple-A), all had lived at least
sacramentosign
one year (and usually far more) on their own, and I’d wager that at least a third–and just as likely more–were married.  Put the orange slices away, lady–these players don’t need or want a team mom!  My wife got the sense that the players, as they passed this woman hooting at them, were merely giving polite “whatever, she’s harmless” nods.

What was stranger was the way the “Team Mom” decided to use her self-declared position to advance a political aim.  Sounds bizarre, but check it out:  She held up a sign that read “RiverCats and fans want our troops home safe.”  Of course, that’s true of all Americans–we all want the troops back safe–but when she held up this sign in July of 2006, there was significant debate over exactly when and whether our troops should pull out of Iraq, and the sign could easily have been interpreted as calling for troop withdrawal.  Even though I’m a pacifist liberal, I found this sign creepy.  Not because she was expressing her opinion at the ballgame–that is her First Amendment right–but because she drew in players and fans, some of whom might disagree with troop withdrawal.  To review, she invented a position for herself with the team, and then abused that self-declared position.  Yuck.

But that’s a minor gripe.  It doesn’t detract from the ballpark, which was a fantastic experience not only before and during the game, but also afterwards.  After the fireworks, we joined massive throngs of foot traffic back across the bridge into Sacramento, and walked over a boat parade in progress on the Sacramento River.  Boats were festooned with flags and stuffed with revelers, but more impressively, were completely covered in patriotic lighting.  Light bulb-covered boats stretched along the river until it bent out of sight.  It was a fantastic way to end the holiday celebration.

On the whole Raley Field is a tremendous ballpark–absolutely as good as its lofty reputation.  It’ s enough to justify making Sacramento a part of a California vacation, and in the process, you just might be pleasantly surprised at what you find along the river.

BALLPARK SCORE:

Regional feel:  9/10
It’s right next to the Sacramento River and has constant, gorgeous views of downtown Sacramento.  Can’t complain there.

Charm:  4.5/5
Lots of nice touches throughout.  Loved it here.

Spectacle:  4/5
A few, always in their place.  Baseball was central, but wacky stuff was there to be had.

Team mascot/name:  3.5/5

sacramentomascot

Dinger and caretaker.  The name “Dinger” has been done, but I like “RiverCats,” and Dinger clearly is one.

Aesthetics:  5/5
It’s a good-looking place with great views.

Pavilion area:  4/5
Nice here–excellent food, nice feel, nice art, virtually always in view of the field.

Scoreability:  4/5

Fans:  4.5/5
A packed house of nice Californians.  I got a good vibe.

Intangibles:  5/5
A gorgeous night, a great game, a fantastic view, and great food.  This is a gem.

TOTAL:  43.5/50

BASEBALL STUFF I’VE SEEN HERE:

It was all about Salt Lake pitching, as five hurlers (Nathan Bland, Matt White, Matt Hensley, Marcus Gwyn, and Greg Jones) combined on a two-hitter.

Howie Kendrick drove in both runs with an 8th-inning double.

(Written July 2006.)

california, california league, former colorado rockies affiliates, high level single a, minor league, seattle mariners affiliates

John Thurman Field, Modesto, California

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modestoinprogress

John Thurman Field, Modesto, CALIFORNIA

Number of states: still 13
States to go: 37

First game:  July 2, 2006 (Modesto Nuts 6, San Jose Giants 3)

After the horrendously loud and promotion-saturated experience at San Jose’s Municipal Stadium the night before, I welcomed this retreat into a quieter ballpark in a smaller city.  While John Thurman Field wasn’t exactly perfect, it was good for a number of reasons.

The ballpark itself is in a bit of a non-descript area, between a golf course and a somewhat-seedy residential area.  Before the game, it’s possible to enjoy some California Almonds while reclining under an umbrella and modestogolferwatching people tee off.  It’s also possible to walk right up to Modesto players as they make their way from the clubhouse to the dugout.  On the day we visited, anyone who wanted to could play catch in the outfield was welcome to head out there and do so.  Of course, this late afternoon and many others in Modesto were insufferably hot, so where I normally would have been disappointed to have forgotten our gloves, on this particular day I was fine not to be out there running around.

The concourse is also nondescript–a few concessionaires tucked back by the golf courses.  The promotions were reasonable–there could have been one or two more at the single-A level, but for the most part, they were fine.  Sure, the hot-dog eating contest that followed the game was disgusting, but it didn’t interfere with the game, so I can sit back and enjoy the disgusting modestoexteriorspectacle.

By the way, if you’re thinking of going to the ballpark, believe me, you want to sit on the first-base side in the shade, and not on the third-base side in the sun.  But you will have to get up if you want food. At the start of the game, I experienced one of my favorite ballpark perks:  an usher who offered to get me food while I stayed in my seat watching the game.  Too bad I never saw her again.

Among John Thurman Field’s biggest problems are a horrible PA system:  it’s actually easier to hear the PA in the pavilion than it is to hear it in the seats.  Not that there was much to hear:  the PA guy actually took the time to wish his wife a happy second anniversary.  I don’t like that stuff when it comes from the crowd; why would I like it from the staff?

Additionally, I was a better scorekeeper and scoreboard modestofromlfoperator than Modesto had.  There was a tough scoring call–fielder’s choice where everybody reaches, or error?–in the sixth inning.  As I waited to figure out what the scorer would decide, an affable usher saw me scoring (I didn’t notice anyone else scoring the game here, continuing the trend of nobody scoring games in California…is it banned by the state Constitution?).  He jokingly said:  “Just give Modesto a double.”  I laughed, but pointed out that there was a fairly large error on the scoreboard:  San Jose had two hits, but the scoreboard only had one up there.  It’s not like one of them was tough to miss…both were doubles down the line, one in the second inning and one in the sixth.  The usher immediately walkie-talkied the booth and pointed out the error.  modestoretirednumbersHe received an angry, harried response, something along the lines of “I have 5 people at once talking to me!  Stop bugging me!”  Nothing happened for another inning, when the usher called back a second time.  I actually managed to change the scoreboard!  I’m totally confident it never would have been fixed were it not for me.

I got to see a pitcher, Ching-Lung Lo, give a great performance for the second year in a row.  Lo had pitched a gem and lost when I visited Asheville in 2005.  His promotion to Modesto was not off to a great start, but he sure had a great game when I arrived for this visit:  3 hits in 7 innings–2 runs, one unearned.  Mr. Lo, I’m happy to watch you at the AAA level in Colorado Springs in a year or two.  (But, if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not modestosignreturn to Drillers Stadium in Tulsa, so get through AA as quickly as you can.)

My wife and I met a nice woman–a mother of two from Southern California who was conned  by her 11-year-old son into stopping in Modesto on the way home from a holiday weekend in the mountains.  She could not believe that my wife and I were in Modesto only to see a baseball game, even though her husband does similar tours of ballparks.  My main concern for her was that she was turning around to talk to us.  Since we were in the second row behind a dugout, I had images of her or her daughter getting their heads exploded by a foul ball.  Hadn’t she read the sign which stated that that could happen?  When I offered to have her join us in the third row so that she could see any threatening line drives heading her way, her response was “No, I’m fine.”  Thank goodness she was right.

All in all, a fine, quiet evening in an ordinary–blessedly ordinary–ballpark.

BALLPARK SCORE:

Regional feel:  6.5/10
Tough to score this since I have no real image of what Modesto’s region should feel like.  They do well with all the nuts they sell in concessions and in the team name, but they fall short in the view from the seating bowl.  Also, the neighborhood and golf course could be anywhere in the USA.

Charm:  3/5
Not bad, but not great.

Spectacle: 4/5
Could be one or two more at the single-A level, but not too shabby.  I liked the multiple mascots getting around–and that they didn’t interfere with baseball.

Team mascot/name:  5/5

modestomascots

modestorobot

Wally the Walnut is on the left, Peanut the Elephant (I believe a leftover from the old Modesto A’s) is on the right.  Not pictured:  Al the Almond.  Modesto Nuts is an ideal name, and the multiple mascots are quite nice.

Aesthetics:  2.5/5
Nothing too special here.

Pavilion area:  3.5/5

Scoreability:  1/5
If I have to tell your scorekeeper and scoreboard operator that there’s been a double down the line, well, that’s a serious problem.  (But thanks to the usher for fixing it.)

Fans:  2.5/5
I sat with a nice woman and her daughter, but other than that, the game was sparsely attended and what fans there were stayed very quiet.

Intangibles:  4/5
On the whole, I liked it here, mostly because it was so cozy and calm.

TOTAL:  32/50

BASEBALL STUFF I’VE SEEN HERE:

Ching-Lung Lo pitches 7 innings of 3-hit ball to pick up the win, striking out 10 and walking none.  Here he is signing an autograph for a fan in the dugout before the game:

modestochinglo

Chris Frey has a pair of RBI.

(Written July 2006.)

california, california league, high level single a, minor league, san francisco giants affiliates

Municipal Stadium, San Jose, California

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sanjoseinprogress

Municipal Stadium, San Jose, CALIFORNIA

Number of states: still 13
States to go: 37

First game:  July 1, 2006 (San Jose Giants 5, Modesto Nuts 1)

(Municipal Stadium has since been renamed Excite Stadium.)
(Click on any image to see a larger version.)

Ever see a gorgeous Jaguar going 25 in the passing lane?  How about a gorgeous house with a view and a huge garden filled with weeds?  A beautiful young man or woman with a huge, terrible tattoo?  That’s how San Jose’s

sanjosecatch
Municipal Stadium made me feel.  Ownership of something beautiful does not mean that the owner knows how to use it.  And the folks who own the Giants, Progress Sports Management (an ironic name if I’ve ever seen one), don’t know how to present their beautiful ballpark to the public.  The loud, ridiculous game I endured in 2006 was one of the biggest disappointments in my years of going to ballparks.

In its physical characteristics and attention to history, Municipal Stadium is right up there with Vancouver and Spokane–which is saying something.  I was very impressed with the loads of California League history, the murals of past greats, and the past standings and stats pasted all over the pavilion.  It was wonderful to soak all of that in.  There’s room to play catch next to the murals, areas for kids to enjoy a pre-game jump-around, a marvelous place to get ribs, and live blues music.  Gigante the mascot is to my satisfaction–I like the name.  The whole place has a positive vibe.  I was looking forward to the baseball.  But the owners of the team

sanjosemurals
apparently don’t care about baseball.

I’m not a straight traditionalist by any stretch of the imagination.  Seriously–particularly at the single-A level, I enjoy some wacky promotions between innings.  But said promotions cannot interfere with the play on the field.  These did.  There really wasn’t any reason to hold a baseball game at all…in San Jose, the baseball game has no value of its own, but only holds value as a sponsorship transference device.

I should have figured that it would be a long night when the person throwing out the first pitch–the local chief of police–arrived via a helicopter that landed on the field.  The helicopter turned out to be the most understated promotion of the night.  (Conveniently, they put live video of the helicopter’s landing on the scoreboard…just in case anyone was unable to find the huge, loud aircraft landing in center field.)  Incredibly, the Giants would make announcements and hold promotions not just

sanjosechopper
between innings–which I’m okay with–but also between batters and, incredibly, between pitches.

Let us enumerate the worst of their sins:

–I don’t mind the gorgeous scoreboard.  I also don’t mind a promotion marking strikeouts.  But rather than put K’s on the outfield wall, or even keep track of the number of K’s, they simply put a K on the scoreboard, and announced “Another K for Kelly Moore Paints!”  My wife put it well:  rather than a charming, wacky promotion, this was just a dull, corporate promotion.  I want the dull corporate stuff out of my minor league ballpark (and, for that matter, out of my major league ballparks, but that’s a harder battle to face).  There’s no charm, there’s nothing exciting…it’s just a way to make money.  And with Darren Sack’s success pitching the ball, I got so sick of the promotion that I have become an avowed Sherwin Williams man.

–The program cost $7…easily the most expensive program I’ve ever purchased.  It was jam-packed with information about the 2005 San Jose Giants.  In a minor league program, this is terribly unnecessary information.  The lion’s share

sanjosecannon
of the 2005 Giants had moved on for 2006…on to Connecticut and double-A ball.  I don’t want to know about them…I want to know about the guys on the field in front of me, and what they’d been up to in Salem-Keizer or Augusta.  Why bother with such a huge, expensive program when a smaller, cheaper one would be more effective?  Again, my business-major wife had the answer:  “More pages means more ads.”  Oh.

–I’m fine with the beer batter.  I am NOT fine with playing music between pitches and after strikes!  When the batter is in the batter’s box, don’t play snippets of “Beer Barrel Polka” with each strike.  The crowd is not stupid.  They know there’s a shot at a beer.  They’ll cheer.  Why insult them with music?  You’re not adding to the excitement.  You’re detracting from the baseball.  Remember that?  Baseball?

–The cannon.  They set it off in pre-game, which is fine, I guess.  But it went off once while the ball was in play:  during a groundout to short.  The player closest to the cannon, left fielder Michael Wagner, damn near jumped out of his stirrup socks.  Two things could have happened:  the cannon could have gone off accidentally, which is terrifying and dangerous, or it could have been intentionally set off during play, which

sanjoseseeds
is awful and ridiculous…and, alas, in character for the night.

–The worst of all:  the sunflower seeds.  Some sunflower seed company would give away sunflower seeds to the crowd if the Giants scored in the fifth inning.  The Giants scored in the fifth inning.  Inexplicably, rather than waiting until between innings to deliver the goods, they sent kids out to hurl sunflower seed packets into the crowd immediately, while the next batter was at the plate.  Fans stood up and trampled each other to get to the seeds.  Meanwhile, there was baseball being played, but that was clearly of little or no interest to the Giants and their fans.

–Even the fireworks were lame.  Almost never was there more than one firecracker going off at a time.  Stupidly, they showed the fireworks live on the scoreboard.  Why?

The net result of all of this is that the hairs on the back of my neck were standing up.  I don’t know what this evening was about, but it wasn’t about baseball.  And in a ballpark that gets so much right–where baseball is celebrated on nearly every physical surface–I’m upset that the experience isn’t about baseball.  Municipal Stadium, therefore, scores very high in some areas and very low in others.  I hope to return one day when the team is under new management.  In the meantime, if anybody from the Giants is reading this, I implore you:  QUIET DOWN THE PROMOTIONS.  You’ll still get your sellouts, and you’ll be serving your fans in addition to serving your sponsors.

BALLPARK SCORE:

Regional feel: 8.5/10
The pavilion celebrates California baseball, with particular attention to California Leaguers who have gone on to the Hall of Fame.

Charm:  2.5/5
Physically, yes.  But as no advertisement can be charming, neither can the experience of attending a game at Municipal Stadium.

Spectacle: 1.5/5
A couple of good promotions, like one where players tried to bust out the headlights of a car with a baseball, but on the whole, things were ludicrously over-the-top.

Team mascot/name:  2.5/5

sanjosemascot

Gigante and me.  Is he an ape?  A gorilla?  Hard to tell, but I don’t mind him or his name.  However, the name “Giants” is a bit dull.

Aesthetics:  4/5
Lovely park.  Not much of a view, though.

Pavilion area:  5/5
Absolutely gorgeous.  Loads of activity, plenty of art, and a celebration of baseball.

Scoreability:  2/5
Not great here.  It was hard to tell when a new pitcher arrived, and inexcplicably, while the Giants’ lineup was listed in the pavilion, the opponents’ were not.

Fans:  2.5/5
I give San Jose fans credit for the sellout.  I do NOT give them credit for their baseball acumen, however, as it’s clear they’re eating up the garbage that the team is shelling out.

Intangibles:  0/5
A ballgame experience that, in the end, actually upset me.  So much wasted potential here.

TOTAL:  28.5/50

BASEBALL STUFF I’VE SEEN HERE:

The Giants’ Darren Sack is the star, giving up two hits and striking out six in six innings of shutout ball.  Thomas King and Ben Cox finish the four-hitter, giving up only an unearned run in the ninth.

(Written July 2006.)
california, california league, former kansas city royals affiliates, high level single a, minor league

Stater Bros. Stadium, Adelanto, California

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highdesertfromof

Stater Bros. Stadium, Adelanto, CALIFORNIA

Number of states:  still 13
States to go:  37

First game:  April 8, 2006 (Inland Empire 66ers 9, High Desert Mavericks 0)

(Stater Bros. Stadium is no longer used for baseball as of the 2017 season.)

(Click on any image to view a larger version.)

It ain’t an Iowa cornfield, but Stater Bros. Stadium might as well be.  After a long drive, way past the very last L.A. suburb, well into the desert, way past an exit on I-15 and out of visual contact with anywhere that it looks like someone could live, there’s a ballpark that springs up quite literally out of nowhere.

Obviously, there has to be someone around to go to the ballgames, and in this case, the ballpark lies 10-20 miles from the reasonably-populated towns of

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Hesperia and Apple Valley.  The ballpark itself is a few miles down the road from the much-smaller town of Adelanto.  But those who are driving up from the L.A. area will never see those towns.  It’s possible to drive into the desert, watch a California League game, and then drive home without being in a city of any size.  And I love that experience.

In such an atmosphere, the ballpark can’t help but pass the “is there any question where you are” test.  The High Desert Mavericks are clearly in the desert.  The ballpark is surrounded by scrub and sand. 

highdesertbravoburgers
Between the outfield wall and the backing fence lies a stretch of sand.  The only other building visible is the adjacent Bravo Burgers.  On a clear night (as almost all of them are in the desert), it’s amazingly dark and quiet.  It was fantastic.  There’s nothing to be seen or heard in the world but a baseball game…and that is a great way to spend any day.

When one is surrounded by baseball, it’s good to be surrounded in a place where baseball is valued.  The folks at Stater Bros. Stadium have done a good job celebrating their team.  They have an “alumnus of the night,” who they announce on the radio over the PA, and have a write-up of their recent

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exploits in the minors.  The columns around the pavilion are covered with the opening day lineups for every season in High Desert’s recent history.  The 1999 team here has already had 3 starters make the majors…not too shabby for High A ball.  There are ushers who will bring you your food or drink in all sections–not just for the high rollers–so nobody needs to miss a pitch.  When I see things like this, I can’t help but compare Stater Bros. Stadium with The Diamond at Lake Elsinore, the other ballpark I saw on this trip.  Where Lake Elsinore had so much non-baseball related stuff going on the baseball seemed incidental, at High Desert, the baseball was central.  Indeed, it was essential.  Kids actually watched the game at High Desert.
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Each ballpark had a grassy area by the right field foul pole.  While at Lake Elsinore there were kids whaling on each other, at High Desert, most of the kids actually watched the game, and only a very few rolled around on the grass and pounded on each other.  Parks that value baseball can get people to enjoy it.

The park is a little bit nondescript, but that feels appropriate given the sparse surroundings.  The tan brick matches the desert–all the more reason to focus on the baseball.  People can enjoy a meal at the Hard Ball Cafe, at least until the Hard Rock Cafe’s lawyers get wind of it.  The stadium also features what must be the most austere skyboxes ever constructed:

highdesertskybox

My good time at the ballpark was enhanced by the fact that the Mavericks were playing a Mariners affiliate, the Inland Empire 66-ers.  I’d seen many of

highdesertplayers
these players play at Everett, and it was nice to see them up a couple of levels.  It was also nice to see them win so handily.  It was cold, and while 1386 people made it to the game (not bad, considering where we were), not many stuck around.  I moved from seat to seat to keep warm, and I finally settled a little ways behind the Inland Empire dugout.  I guess there’s no clubhouse or locker room under the stadium, because 66er players kept walking up the aisle between the seats and the grass to get to a room upstairs.  I stayed there to take pictures after the game, and to watch one of the guys say hi to what appeared to be a new girlfriend.  I felt like a little bit of a doofus taking pictures of the guys, and few of them came out, but it still was fun to watch them all walk by like that.

After the game, put your car’s radio on scan.  I was able to pick up the last parts of baseball broadcasts originating in Denver and Seattle.  There are benefits to being in the middle of nowhere for baseball fans.

Then, as throughout the night, I felt completely immersed in baseball, and it is to the credit of the people at Stater Bros. Stadium.  I can certainly see a day where they no longer feel it’s financially viable to play ball in the middle of nowhere, but I hope it isn’t soon.  It’s a tremendous place to see a baseball game, simply because there’s nothing else in sight.

BALLPARK SCORE:

Regional feel:  9/10
Tremendous here.

Charm:  3.5/5
The ballpark is quite charming to me, although it could show a little more personality.

Spectacle: 3/5
Could do a hair more here, given the level of ball.

Team mascot/name:  3/5

highdesertmascot

Wooly Bully and me–in this photo, Wooly is the better-looking one.  The name “Mavericks” is fine, appropriate and local. but the name “Wooly Bully” is taken, I’m afraid.

Aesthetics:  4.5/5
Striking.

Pavilion area:  4.5/5
Very nice here…a lot of Mavericks history, and all of it within view of the field.

Scoreability:  3.5/5
Some minor slip-ups.

Fans:  4/5
I give them credit for being baseball-focused, for dealing with the cold well, and for getting all the way out to the ballpark to begin with.

Intangibles:  4.5/5
I couldn’t stop smiling in thrilled disbelief that this place even exists.  It has a real Field of Dreams vibe about it

TOTAL:  39.5/50

BASEBALL STUFF I’VE SEEN HERE:

Robert Rohrbaugh is the pitching star, striking out 6 in 5 2/3 innings.  Three relievers finish a 7-hit shutout.

Yung-Chi Chen has four hits, including two doubles, along with a stolen base and two runs batted in.

california, california league, high level single a, minor league, san diego padres affiliates

The Diamond, Lake Elsinore, California

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lakeelsinorefromlf

The Diamond, Lake Elsinore, CALIFORNIA

Number of states:  13
States to go:  37

Number of games:  1
April 7, 2006 (Lake Elsinore Storm 3, Lancaster JetHawks 1)

Update August 2008:  To see Storm Account Executive David McCrory’s jaw-droppingly unprofessional email response to this ballpark review, scroll down.

(Click any image to see in a larger size.)

It all comes down to a conversation I had at the gift shop.  I went to this game alone, which mean I was carrying my scorebook as I purchased my mini-bat to add to my Wall Of Minor League Mini-Bats.  God as my witness, the saleswoman uttered the following:

“Are you a scout?”

This is sick and wrong on so many levels.  Let me count the ways:  First, why the hell would a scout buy a mini-bat?  Beyond

lakeelsinorebatter
that, I cannot come up with any reason why a scout would even enter the gift shop.  So why did she ask me if I was a scout?  It had to be the scorebook.  She assumed that a scorebook meant I was a scout.  I believe that she had never noticed a fan carrying a scorebook before.

And why would anyone bother taking a scorebook to The Diamond at Lake Elsinore?  I see no reason why, because baseball is unimportant at this ballpark.  In spite of all of the positive things I’d heard about it, I was not at all impressed with this night at the ballpark.

Yes, I know.  I like promotions at the ballpark, and more promotions at the lower levels than at the higher levels.  But at Lake Elsinore, the promotions actually crossed the line and

lakeelsinoreramirez
interfered with the
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baseball.  For reasons I cannot fathom, they made April 7 a St. Patrick’s Day promotion.  They changed the baselines and bases to green.  They put either an “O” or a “Mc” in front of everyone’s name on the scoreboard.  This ranged from the confusing (since I missed player introductions and didn’t buy a program for a few innings, there was no reason why Skip Adams couldn’t actually be Skip McAdams) to the ludicrous and borderline-offensive, as in the photo here.  Often, the music and promotional crap distracted the
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PA announcer, who frequently would fail to announce a batter or a fielding change until after a few pitches had already been thrown.  That is completely unacceptable.  Get your promotions out of the way and do your primary job!

Seriously.  I’m not incapable of having fun.  I love “Bark at the Park” night at Everett Memorial Stadium.  I’m into trivia, silliness, and even bizarre behavior between innings.  I like Bill Veeck.  But once the inning begins, leave the game alone!  Don’t touch the field, and don’t touch the players’ names.  To do so is to send the message that baseball is of secondary or even tertiary importance to the night.  If it were, why bother having a team?  Why not just invite a couple of thousand people over 72 nights a year for themed parties?

The atmosphere of baseball-is-not-important trickles

lakeelsinorefromrf
down to every part of the park.  In addition to gift-shop workers who assume that one must be a scout to carry a scorebook, just consider the grassy hill by the right field foul pole.  Alone, this is a positive.  I imagine people hanging out on blankets, picnicking, enjoying the game, maybe throwing a ball around.  I imagine kids running around, too, burning off some steam.  At Lake Elsinore, what we have instead are kids constantly either rolling down the hill, running up the hill, or whaling on each other.  I have three siblings, so I know violence is a base component of any family, but what I saw on that hill was akin to Lord of the Flies.  I saw exactly one kid in the stands (more on him later), but dozens on the hill.  That’s right…families of Southern California had taken their kids to the ballpark where almost none of them watched baseball.

The park is lovely in architecture…nice tan bricks,

lakeelsinoreexterior
red seats, green roof.  The scoreboard is high quality for single-A ball.  The gift shop, the external concourse, the ad-covered monster wall in right field which includes a hand-operated scoreboard…all were very nice.  The Diamond’s location is far enough outside of L.A.’s endless, boring, monotonous suburbs that it’s lovely–near the actual Lake Elsinore and some mountains.  With other people running the team, I might have enjoyed this park, but I’m afraid I couldn’t see through the entire night of silliness…the Irish crap on the field, the obese guy in spandex throwing out T-shirts, the constant assault and battery on the lawn, the indifference of the scorer and PA announcer…all of it was too much to overlook.

What I’ll remember most from this night is the Storm’s Colt Morton

lakeelsinorecoltkid
and a youngster sitting two seats to my left.  I’ve been keeping track of Colt since he had a big night in Eugene two years back.  I thought he might be a stud in the making, and I especially liked the fact that a guy named Colt wore #45.  He’s been promoted to high-A since then.  He’s switched to #41, alas.  But I like him a lot more now than I did before I saw him at The Diamond because of the way he interacted with the little kid nearby.  This was the second game of the year, and Colt stepped out before his first at-bat and gave the kid a really warm greeting.  “Hey!  Where were you last night?  I went 0-for-3!”  The kid absolutely ate it up, and all of us shouted “Go, Colt!” to get the kid to join us.  Colt even let the kid hold his bat’s donut between innings at one point.  It made for a very nice vibe around where I was sitting.

Even with that nice moment, however, I can’t say I was impressed with The Diamond.  I’d be interested to go back someday if the team were under new management who cared a little about baseball…who recognized that you don’t have to be a scout to pay attention.  When that happens, I’ll probably like the place better.

UPDATE AUGUST 2008: I get fairly consistent emails based on what I write on this site.  Sometimes I receive interesting remarks from people in the front office of minor league teams (such as the nice guys from Tennessee or Everett).  Occasionally I’ll get rage-filled notes from people with anger management problems who take things like frivolous ballpark websites too seriously.

But never before had I received a combination: a rage-filled email from a minor league front-office worker with anger management problems.  I present, verbatim, an email I received from David McCrory, a Storm account executive.

Subject: Storm Baseball

Hey Jerkoff,
I am the obese guy in the spandex throwing out t-shirts,
only it isn’t spandex, it’s red tights, part of the
Mr. Incredible costume which the kids and families really
enjoy if you bothered to look around you, and I wasn’t
throwing out t-shirts they were frisbees, so obviously you
have your facts wrong and you should probably spend more
time paying attention to detail. Now I can see why you need
a scorecard in the first place, you have the mental capacity
of a first-grader.
It’s OK though because we have your picture now and
we are going to have a ball this season making you look
like the complete MORON you are. Stay tuned for more.

Mr. McCrory correctly points out that I made a couple of mistakes on this page–from a distance in the night, I could not tell that he was wearing tights rather than spandex, or that he was throwing out frisbees rather than T-shirts.  If that’s a lack of “attention to detail,” well, I’m guilty, although, unlike the Storm, I try to focus on baseball-related details while at the ballpark.

However, let us consider the way that Mr. McCrory and the Storm’s GM and President (all of whom ignored my request for an explanation for McCrory’s behavior) feel it is appropriate to do business.  They either practice or condone the following behaviors:

1.  To address former customers who disagree with them as “Jerkoff.”
2.  To question those customers’ educational attainment (and to do so in a run-on sentence).
3.  To state that those who score the game are doing so because they are mentally challenged.
4.  To insult those customers three times in a 120-word email (“Jerkoff,” “mental capacity of a first-grader,” and “MORON.”)
5.  Perhaps most alarmingly, to insinuate that they have memorized a dissatisfied customer’s physical appearance and to threaten to humiliate that customer should he ever again appear at The Diamond.

Mr. McCrory’s threats don’t matter to me, since I don’t like the overbearing show the Storm puts on and therefore am very unlikely to return until their product indicates that they value baseball as more than a promotions transference device.  But still, I think it’s good that people see that the Storm’s front office apparently finds emails like this to be appropriate and acceptable.

BALLPARK SCORE:

Regional feel:  7.5/10
Nice views.

Charm:  2/5
I like the physical ballpark, but anyone who tries this hard cannot possibly be considered charming.

Spectacle: 1/5
While I like a lot of promotions in single-A ball, this was overdone to the point of disgusting.

Team mascot/name:  2/5

lakeelsinoremascot

Thunder, a Phillie Phanatic ripoff with a boring name, gives me a little love.  This is yet another thing the team got wrong.  The mascot used to be named Hamlet, which is perfect for Lake Elsinore (am I right, fellow English teachers?).  But no, they managed to screw this up by changing the name to Thunder, which mostly makes me think of flatulence.

Aesthetics:  4.5/5
Can’t deny that this is a lovely place.

Pavilion area: 4 /5

Scoreability:  1/5
Seriously, if I can’t trust them to tell me the batter on time, how can I trust them with anything of import?  Also, intentionally putting wrong names up was more confusing than funny.

Fans:  1.5/5
Memo to Storm fans:  There is baseball being played.  You might enjoy watching it.  (The cool kid who was friends with Colt bumps up this score.)

Intangibles:  0/5
As you’ve probably figured out by now, I spent most of the night annoyed at the ballpark’s wasted potential.  And to be called names by a member of the front office…well, that’s just so over the line that it’s comical.

TOTAL:  23.5/50

BASEBALL STUFF I’VE SEEN HERE:

The Storm’s Chase Headley was the hero, driving in the winning runs with a double in the bottom of the eighth.

A.J. Shappi pitched beautifully for Lancaster, striking out 8 in 6 innings.