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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 ­ 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

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