Monday, July 28, 1997
Rediscovering lost game of baseball in small ballparks across
California
MINOR LEAGUE:
Enjoying America’s favorite pastime without big egos,
contractsIn the bleachers …
I found baseball heaven last weekend. It’s a place where green
is the color of the grass, and not the money that’s earned by
playing on it. It’s a place where hustle is the rule, not the
exception. And it’s a place where the dreams are titanic and the
egos are small.
We are all so lucky, because it’s right in our backyard. It’s
the California League.
This sanctuary for the game of baseball can be found all over
the state. Even though I discovered it in Lake Elsinore (an
hour-and-a- half drive from UCLA), there are also teams in the Bay
Area, the deserts, and the metropolitan Los Angeles area.
This Single A minor league is one of the first steps for players
on the road to the majors, and should be one of the first stops for
any fan of baseball.
In fact, during the game, I was regretting the fact that it had
taken me 20 years to get to a minor league ballpark. I have been to
more San Diego Padres games than I can remember, and have also seen
games in such great stadiums as Fenway Park, Wrigley Field and
Camden Yards. However, in some ways, none of those could ever
compare to what I experienced last Saturday at the Diamond Â
home of the Lake Elsinore Storm, a minor-league affiliate of the
Angels.
From my seat six rows above the dugout last Saturday, I had a
reality check. Everything just seemed too good to be true.
There was electricity in the sold-out park, the players hustled
on every ground ball, and the Energizer Bunny cruised the warning
track every time the locals crossed the plate.
When the guy sitting next to me yelled a compliment at one of
the players running into the dugout, and that player responded with
a smile and a nod, he said, dumbfounded, "They can hear us!"
Believe me, in a ballpark that sits about 8,000 fans, you feel a
much bigger part of the action than you do in some 50,000-seat
monstrosity.
But, most importantly, there was no discussion of the problems
that plague major league baseball today. Whereas it seems as if
every conversation about baseball nowadays has to do with salary
negotiations, television revenue, and the demand for new
baseball-only stadiums, the only topic of conversation was the game
itself, not the business.
Well, OK, so there was a little economics talk  like the
great ticket bargains (my $6 seat put the first baseman closer to
me than he was to the shortstop), the $2 parking rates, and the $3
haircuts behind homeplate.
In addition, there was some money thrown around by the fans.
Whenever a Storm player hits a home run, or a pitcher strikes out
the side, ushers race through the stands with buckets, collecting
money for that lucky hitter/pitcher.
Can you imagine what would happen at a major league park if that
stunt was tried? The poor usher would be lucky to escape with his
life, but at the Diamond (and probably at minor league parks
everywhere) people are only too anxious to throw in money, and the
average intake is $400.
In the minors, you may not be able to see Tony Gwynn chase .400,
or Mark McGwire chase Roger Maris, or watch Randy Johnson face
Frank Thomas. But all those players had to start somewhere, and
there’s a good chance that one of the players I saw on Saturday
could be a future superstar  the Angels’ Darin Erstad played
for the Storm only a couple years ago. Each team is affiliated with
a major league team, which supplies the club with young talent in
the hopes that players will develop and advance through the minor
leagues to AA and AAA ball, and eventually reach the Big Show.
Then again, maybe none of them will even make the pros. To tell
you the truth, that would be fine with me. I didn’t know any of the
players before the game, and I couldn’t name a sole player only a
week later.
But, that’s what minor league baseball is all about  the
game, not the individuals. That’s why it’s so great. Before the
first pitch was even thrown out, I asked the guy next to me if it
was his first time at a minor league ballgame. He responded with a
"yes," then took a brief glimpse at the field and the stands and
added, "But, it won’t be my last."
My sentiments exactly.
Brent Boyd