IdahoPilgrim

By late afternoon I am wondering if the game tonight is going to happen. A series of strong afternoon thunderstorms has come through the area and the rain has been heavy. The Red Wings do a good job, though, of keeping the public informed on their website of the game’s status, updating it regularly (are you listening, Twins?) and at 5:30 it is announced that the game is definitively on; the gates will open at 6pm, rain or no rain! Putting on my jeans (I have been wearing shorts the entire trip) and digging out my fleece sweater-jacket, just in case, I head out for Frontier Field. The stadium is in downtown Rochester, on the west edge of town and facing the center of the city (although you can’t quite see the downtown skyline). Looking over to left field you see the Kodak Tower, headquarters of Eastman Kodak and once the tallest building in Rochester. Parking is right next to the stadium in the Kodak company lots ($6, unless it is a weekday afternoon game, in which case the lots are reserved for Kodak employees and fans are on their own). Railroad tracks pass down the south side of the stadium, and periodically throughout the night locomotives will chug by, blowing their whistles (each time I manage to resist the urge to yell out “Train!”). The stadium itself has a capacity slightly over 10,000 and was opened in 1996, which is surprising as it somehow feels older than that. Perhaps it is the emptiness of the seats – announced attendance is 4,700, but I don’t believe it; I would have guessed half that, probably weather related. Getting to the ticket window I resignedly ask if they have any seats that are dry. To my pleasant surprise the answer is yes, and I get my $8 reserved seat ticket to one of the two areas in the stadium covered by a roof overhang. I will not have to sit three hours watching baseball in wet blue jeans! The downside is that the seat is near the top of the stadium, and for the first time on the trip I am watching the game from a distance instead of being right near the action. Wandering through the stadium to survey the food choices I opt for the double-sized roast beef sandwich, promising myself to sample the specialty mac-n-cheese the next evening. The stadium has several plazas with tables and benches at which to sit while dining, so I avail myself of one and flip through my souvenir program. Before I know it, time has flown and they are playing the national anthem, so I hurry to my seat before the first pitch, managing to bob and weave like a professional boxer around an army of mascots (it is mascot night here at Frontier Field) all trying to make physical contact. P.J. Walters is making a rehab start, and he begins slowly with seven straight balls. He gets a sarcastic cheer from the crowd when he finally gets one over for a strike, but he ends up walking the batter anyway and gives up a single to the next. That turns out to be the extant of the damage, though, as after that he seems to settle down, getting out of the inning and working efficiently into the third. I am a bit surprised when they pull him after only ten batters (and after just giving up his second hit); hopefully it’s just he was on a pitch count and not a re-injury. David Bromberg comes in and pitches quite well for another four-plus innings before starting to fade in the seventh and giving way to Daniel Turpen. Put them all together and you have five hits and two walks scattered across eight innings and a shutout going into the ninth. Meanwhile, Rochester has been scratching their way ahead, run by run. In the third Michael Chang leads off with a grounder to the third baseman. It looks to be an out, but the first baseman casually steps off the bag moments before the ball hits his glove. I half expect the umpire to call Chang out anyway, as I’ve seen that before, but he calls it straight and Chang is safe. It turns out to be an important call. Lehmann moves him over to third on a nice double down the left field line, and two batters later Dinkelman hits a weak grounder to the right side of the infield, being thrown out but also scoring the first run of the game. In the fourth Matt Carson leads off with a fly that just clears the fence in straight-away center. Then, in the seventh, Parmelee and Carson hit consecutive doubles deep in the park, and Rochester is up 3-0. Turpen struggles in the ninth and is pulled after giving up two consecutive hits and a walk, putting the tying run on first, but Anthony Slama comes in (with the crowd making as much noise as I’ve heard in about three innings) and strikes out the final batter, sealing the Red Wings 3-1 win. Not much interesting in the promotion/contest department, but one nice touch was in the middle of the seventh when they played “God Bless America” while on the video screen pictures of those serving in the armed forces, with names and ranks, were displayed. It was nicely done. *** Getting into Rochester late yesterday pays off in having two full days to see sites in the area, as both games are night games. I take advantage of this today by driving west about seventy miles to Niagara Falls. I have been there before, but they are impressive nonetheless. I pay my $10 parking fee (which I considered quite reasonable, actually, all things considered) and look around the site. I consider going on the Maid of the Mist boat trip and taking the Cave of the Winds hike at the base of the falls, but decide I am not in the mood to get wet today, so I pass on both. Instead, I take the walking path around the perimeter of Goat Island, which separates the American falls from the Canadian falls. I am about half-way around (and at the farthest point from my car, of course) when it starts to rain. *sigh*

After a much needed late wakeup and a quiet morning worshiping at a local church and stopping by a Dunkin’ Donuts (you can’t swing a dead cat around here in Connecticut without hitting one) for a late breakfast, I headed out to New Britain for my only day game of the trip. Temperature was in the eighties and the sky was partly cloudy; all in all a good day for baseball. Getting to the stadium I decide to splurge today and go for the preferred parking ($6) as opposed to general ($4). The extra minute and a half it saves me walking to the ticket window probably doesn’t matter much, but the trip is heading into it’s last week and I don’t have to be quite as frugal as when I started. I also go for the club seats ($15) and am two rows back of the Rockcats dugout. I spend the pregame time munching on my cheese fries and watching the New Britain players sign balls and toss them to kids standing at the edge of the dugout with wide eyes and eager dispositions. When it comes time for the ceremonial pitches I hope that last night’s eight-pitch marathon was an anomaly, and that turns out to be the case – today there are ten. At least this time some of them have decent throws that make it to the fielder on the fly. By game time I notice that, when the sun is not behind the clouds, it is a bit warm. Over to my right an EMT is treating a woman who is feeling the effects of the sun and heat. There are a couple of EMTs walking around the stadium throughout the afternoon, making sure nobody gets into too serious trouble from the weather. I decide, of course, to stick it out where I am (I paid extra for this seat!) – and I manage to last almost three full innings before I retreat to a section of the stadium which is in the shade. Fortunately, there is enough room so that isn’t a problem (attendance was right about 5,000 again today). I look around from my new seat and, based on the relative population densities of the sections, I surmise that I am not alone in my decision. The Rockcats today are facing Trevor May, probably the top prospect in the Phillies system. Today he looks it. Pitching six innings, he basically shuts New Britain down for the first five. He strikes out six in the first three innings (making batters like Arcia look foolish) and only allows one runner into scoring position before the sixth inning. Reading, in the meantime, nickels and dimes their way to a 4-0 lead by the end of the fourth. In the top of the second, with none out and a runner on second, the Reading batter hits a fly to medium right, caught by Arcia. The runner tags to head to third, and Arcia moves to make a play, only to come down on his foot wrong and go down in a tumble. The third base coach alertly sends the runner home, and Reading scores the first run on a two-base tag-up. I get the sense that somehow this is just not going to be our day. A two-run homer in the third and a throwing error by Shawn Roof at second in the fourth allows the Phillies to add to their lead. Steve Hirschfeld doesn’t pitch that badly, going the first five innings, but neither does he help himself out at all, not striking out a single batter and giving up nine hits. Starting in the sixth it looks like May is tiring a bit. He pitches himself into a jam and loads the bases with one out. The crowd is all too aware that the game is not yet out of reach. Then former prospect Joe Benson caps off a lousy weekend by weakly hitting into a double play, ending the inning. In the seventh they finally get to May, opening the inning with three consecutive hits (singles by Romero & De Los Santos and a double by Rohlfing), scoring one. Aaron Hicks brings in one more after May is relieved, and the game is 4-2. In the bottom of the eighth Arcia doubles and Romero brings him in with a single to cut the gap to one run. I start to wonder if a come from behind victory is in the works. Then, in the ninth, Dakota Watts comes in to pitch the last inning and uncharacteristically falls short of the mark, giving up four runs on two hits, a walk and two New Britain errors. The air deflates out of those still in attendance, the game is over after the obligatory non-eventful bottom half of the inning, and I head back to the motel for the night, with a trip record of 5-2-1. At least New Britain has held onto the last playoff spot, with a half game lead over Reading. One contest of note: the tossing contest (which last night was toilet paper rolls and hula hoops) is, appropriately for the weather, water balloons. Partner A stands with his/her back turned to partner B and lobs water balloons backward over their head. Partner B is wearing a batting helmet with a plastic bucket attached to the top and must try to catch the balloon in the bucket. Again, I see no actual scores made (and several balloons which shatter on impact, dousing the players) but the kids seem to have fun anyway, which is the point. *** The next day is a travel day, but the distance is short enough that I add a couple of fun events as well. First, as I am only an hour away, I drive down to Groton, Connecticut, the spiritual home of the U.S. Navy submarine force, to visit the submarine museum and tour the USS Nautilus, the first nuclear-powered submarine in the world. You only get to see small bits and pieces of the boat (the engineering sections are entirely off-limits), but for a former navy man it is meaningful nonetheless. Then, driving through New York, I take a detour and head down to Cooperstown to visit the National Baseball Hall of Fame. I had been here once before, as a youth with my dad, and I had forgotten that parking is spotty at best. I end up having to walk about a half-mile to the hall entrance before I can pay my $20 entrance fee. It is worth it. There is history, there is memorabilia and jerseys from the game’s greats, there is the hall of plaques...I spend a good couple of hours wandering around, soaking it all in. Every game I’ve seen on this trip, every player I’ve watched, all are hoping someday to end up here. It feels appropriate that, on a trip where I watch careers begin, I also visit the dream they have in common. I wonder who will be here next from the Twins, who will be the next Harmon Killebrew, the next Rod Carew, the next Kirby Puckett, ... the next Bert Blyleven?

After a much needed late wakeup and a quiet morning worshiping at a local church and stopping by a Dunkin’ Donuts (you can’t swing a dead cat around here in Connecticut without hitting one) for a late breakfast, I headed out to New Britain for my only day game of the trip. Temperature was in the eighties and the sky was partly cloudy; all in all a good day for baseball. Getting to the stadium I decide to splurge today and go for the preferred parking ($6) as opposed to general ($4). The extra minute and a half it saves me walking to the ticket window probably doesn’t matter much, but the trip is heading into it’s last week and I don’t have to be quite as frugal as when I started. I also go for the club seats ($15) and am two rows back of the Rockcats dugout. I spend the pregame time munching on my cheese fries and watching the New Britain players sign balls and toss them to kids standing at the edge of the dugout with wide eyes and eager dispositions. When it comes time for the ceremonial pitches I hope that last night’s eight-pitch marathon was an anomaly, and that turns out to be the case – today there are ten. At least this time some of them have decent throws that make it to the fielder on the fly. By game time I notice that, when the sun is not behind the clouds, it is a bit warm. Over to my right an EMT is treating a woman who is feeling the effects of the sun and heat. There are a couple of EMTs walking around the stadium throughout the afternoon, making sure nobody gets into too serious trouble from the weather. I decide, of course, to stick it out where I am (I paid extra for this seat!) – and I manage to last almost three full innings before I retreat to a section of the stadium which is in the shade. Fortunately, there is enough room so that isn’t a problem (attendance was right about 5,000 again today). I look around from my new seat and, based on the relative population densities of the sections, I surmise that I am not alone in my decision. The Rockcats today are facing Trevor May, probably the top prospect in the Phillies system. Today he looks it. Pitching six innings, he basically shuts New Britain down for the first five. He strikes out six in the first three innings (making batters like Arcia look foolish) and only allows one runner into scoring position before the sixth inning. Reading, in the meantime, nickels and dimes their way to a 4-0 lead by the end of the fourth. In the top of the second, with none out and a runner on second, the Reading batter hits a fly to medium right, caught by Arcia. The runner tags to head to third, and Arcia moves to make a play, only to come down on his foot wrong and go down in a tumble. The third base coach alertly sends the runner home, and Reading scores the first run on a two-base tag-up. I get the sense that somehow this is just not going to be our day. A two-run homer in the third and a throwing error by Shawn Roof at second in the fourth allows the Phillies to add to their lead. Steve Hirschfeld doesn’t pitch that badly, going the first five innings, but neither does he help himself out at all, not striking out a single batter and giving up nine hits. Starting in the sixth it looks like May is tiring a bit. He pitches himself into a jam and loads the bases with one out. The crowd is all too aware that the game is not yet out of reach. Then former prospect Joe Benson caps off a lousy weekend by weakly hitting into a double play, ending the inning. In the seventh they finally get to May, opening the inning with three consecutive hits (singles by Romero & De Los Santos and a double by Rohlfing), scoring one. Aaron Hicks brings in one more after May is relieved, and the game is 4-2. In the bottom of the eighth Arcia doubles and Romero brings him in with a single to cut the gap to one run. I start to wonder if a come from behind victory is in the works. Then, in the ninth, Dakota Watts comes in to pitch the last inning and uncharacteristically falls short of the mark, giving up four runs on two hits, a walk and two New Britain errors. The air deflates out of those still in attendance, the game is over after the obligatory non-eventful bottom half of the inning, and I head back to the motel for the night, with a trip record of 5-2-1. At least New Britain has held onto the last playoff spot, with a half game lead over Reading. One contest of note: the tossing contest (which last night was toilet paper rolls and hula hoops) is, appropriately for the weather, water balloons. Partner A stands with his/her back turned to partner B and lobs water balloons backward over their head. Partner B is wearing a batting helmet with a plastic bucket attached to the top and must try to catch the balloon in the bucket. Again, I see no actual scores made (and several balloons which shatter on impact, dousing the players) but the kids seem to have fun anyway, which is the point. *** The next day is a travel day, but the distance is short enough that I add a couple of fun events as well. First, as I am only an hour away, I drive down to Groton, Connecticut, the spiritual home of the U.S. Navy submarine force, to visit the submarine museum and tour the USS Nautilus, the first nuclear-powered submarine in the world. You only get to see small bits and pieces of the boat (the engineering sections are entirely off-limits), but for a former navy man it is meaningful nonetheless. Then, driving through New York, I take a detour and head down to Cooperstown to visit the National Baseball Hall of Fame. I had been here once before, as a youth with my dad, and I had forgotten that parking is spotty at best. I end up having to walk about a half-mile to the hall entrance before I can pay my $20 entrance fee. It is worth it. There is history, there is memorabilia and jerseys from the game’s greats, there is the hall of plaques...I spend a good couple of hours wandering around, soaking it all in. Every game I’ve seen on this trip, every player I’ve watched, all are hoping someday to end up here. It feels appropriate that, on a trip where I watch careers begin, I also visit the dream they have in common. I wonder who will be here next from the Twins, who will be the next Harmon Killebrew, the next Rod Carew, the next Kirby Puckett, ... the next Bert Blyleven?

I heard somewhere once that the biggest jump in the minor league system is the one between high-A and Double-A. I don’t know if that’s actually true, but as I get to New Britain Stadium and get settled I find that I can believe it. For the first time I am in a sizable stadium designed for a minor league team (Hammond Field was also sizable, but it was clearly designed with the Twins in mind – Fort Myers is just an occupant in the months between spring training seasons). I also immediately notice that there is a scoreboard with video technology and replay ability. Clearly we have graduated to another level. I am aware that, for the first time, I will be watching players who could be contributing to the parent clubs very soon. Some here today are on the 40-man rosters, and there will probably be a few that receive September call-ups. As I walk around the stadium (carrying the compact folding stool that I am given at the gate for being one of the first thousand adults, a surprisingly sturdy freebie that I might actually use someday), the food choices also begin to approach what one might find at a major league club. Instead of a single concession stand, there are several, including a sit-down restaurant on the top level of the stadium. As part of the pregame festivities they have the now-obligatory ceremonial pitches. I remember in the old days when it was a big deal, a single pitch, usually thrown by somebody important. Tonight, there are eight of them. None of them are caught on the fly by the fielder standing at the plate (seven of them fall short and bounce their way in, and one hotshot who thinks he’s the reincarnation of Walter Johnson actually stops to reach down and pick up the rosin bag before throwing a hard fastball two yards wide of the plate to the backstop). The last one is at least novel – it is a local college football coach, who tosses a football toward the plate instead of a baseball. The umpires enter the field and again you see the upgrade at this level – three-person crews instead of two. The anthem is played by a brass band who leads off with a wonderful rendition of “America the Beautiful,” with a modulation to a higher key for a second stanza and finishing with a nice flourish (the anthem itself, which comes afterward, is actually a little disappointing in comparison). I am, for the first time on this trip, watching a game that has real playoff implications. Beloit had already clinched a playoff berth, Elizabethton has a half-lap on the field, and the Miracle have been underwhelming all season. New Britain, on the other hand, is running neck-and-neck with tonight’s opponent, the Reading Phillies, for the second playoff berth in the division. Going into today the Rockcats have a half-game lead. I enjoy baseball regardless of the meaning of any individual game, but it is nice to watch one that actually matters. As I get my program and scorecard (the one negative aspect of the evening – it is a xeroxed piece of paper, with copier noise included, that is difficulty to see and use), I and the rest of the roughly 5,000 fans in attendance look forward to seeing if New Britain can stretch that out a little bit and guarantee a series win. Blake Martin starts the game for New Britain and does OK for five innings, deserving the win he earns. He gets two K’s in the first inning (five total for the game), but they sandwich two virtually identical solo shots over the right field fence, and Reading breaks out with a two-run lead. After that he settles down and scatters a few baseruners but holds Reading in check. New Britain in their half of the first manages to load the bases with nobody out. It is clear, though, they the parent club has done a good job of teaching “Twins Baseball” as the next three batters fly out and they end up getting only one run. They make up for it in the next two innings, however, when the Rockcats take advantage of a shaky performance by the Reading starter (Brody Colvin, making his second start at this level, who lasts 2.2 innings, giving up four hits and seven walks and bouncing more than one ball to the backstop). In the second, Chris Hermann hits a nice three-run homer over the right field fence (it is the first and only hit of the inning for New Britain – those walks will kill ya.) Then, in the third, Romero takes first after being hit by the pitch, Hanson singles and Beresford doubles (bringing in Romero), and Hermann walks, loading the bases. That will be it for the Reading Starter as he is pulled for a reliever, who promptly gives up singles to Arcia and Colabello, scoring three more. At the end of three, it is 8-2 New Britain. The game is basically over from that point forward, going on cruise control until late in the evening. Arcia caps a three-hit night with a two-run homer in the seventh (how is this guy not in the majors yet!), making it 10-2, and Bruce Pugh and Edgar Ibarra combine to give up four runs in the eighth and ninth and perhaps give Reading a false sense of hope, but Dakota Watts finally closes it out with a one-pitch grounder back to the mound and the fans go away happy. The series win is guaranteed, and more importantly New Britain now has a little cushion over their rival in the race for that second playoff spot. It is football night at New Britain Stadium, and they modify their contests appropriately. In one, three Dunkin’ Donuts mascots are racing a young child (who everybody knows is supposed to win), and it looks like the iced coffee is about to pull off an upset, when out of the dugout comes a red-shirted football player to take him down with a nice body tackle, clearing the way for the youngster. The football theme also carries over into their tossing contest, as two teams, made up of two kids each, compete. Each team has a person bending over in football fashion trying to hike rolls of toilet paper through their legs back to their teammates who are holding hula hoops. I’m not sure what the final score was (I didn’t see any of the rolls actually go through the hoops), but the contest appears to be successful and the kids go away happy.

I heard somewhere once that the biggest jump in the minor league system is the one between high-A and Double-A. I don’t know if that’s actually true, but as I get to New Britain Stadium and get settled I find that I can believe it. For the first time I am in a sizable stadium designed for a minor league team (Hammond Field was also sizable, but it was clearly designed with the Twins in mind – Fort Myers is just an occupant in the months between spring training seasons). I also immediately notice that there is a scoreboard with video technology and replay ability. Clearly we have graduated to another level. I am aware that, for the first time, I will be watching players who could be contributing to the parent clubs very soon. Some here today are on the 40-man rosters, and there will probably be a few that receive September call-ups. As I walk around the stadium (carrying the compact folding stool that I am given at the gate for being one of the first thousand adults, a surprisingly sturdy freebie that I might actually use someday), the food choices also begin to approach what one might find at a major league club. Instead of a single concession stand, there are several, including a sit-down restaurant on the top level of the stadium. As part of the pregame festivities they have the now-obligatory ceremonial pitches. I remember in the old days when it was a big deal, a single pitch, usually thrown by somebody important. Tonight, there are eight of them. None of them are caught on the fly by the fielder standing at the plate (seven of them fall short and bounce their way in, and one hotshot who thinks he’s the reincarnation of Walter Johnson actually stops to reach down and pick up the rosin bag before throwing a hard fastball two yards wide of the plate to the backstop). The last one is at least novel – it is a local college football coach, who tosses a football toward the plate instead of a baseball. The umpires enter the field and again you see the upgrade at this level – three-person crews instead of two. The anthem is played by a brass band who leads off with a wonderful rendition of “America the Beautiful,” with a modulation to a higher key for a second stanza and finishing with a nice flourish (the anthem itself, which comes afterward, is actually a little disappointing in comparison). I am, for the first time on this trip, watching a game that has real playoff implications. Beloit had already clinched a playoff berth, Elizabethton has a half-lap on the field, and the Miracle have been underwhelming all season. New Britain, on the other hand, is running neck-and-neck with tonight’s opponent, the Reading Phillies, for the second playoff berth in the division. Going into today the Rockcats have a half-game lead. I enjoy baseball regardless of the meaning of any individual game, but it is nice to watch one that actually matters. As I get my program and scorecard (the one negative aspect of the evening – it is a xeroxed piece of paper, with copier noise included, that is difficulty to see and use), I and the rest of the roughly 5,000 fans in attendance look forward to seeing if New Britain can stretch that out a little bit and guarantee a series win. Blake Martin starts the game for New Britain and does OK for five innings, deserving the win he earns. He gets two K’s in the first inning (five total for the game), but they sandwich two virtually identical solo shots over the right field fence, and Reading breaks out with a two-run lead. After that he settles down and scatters a few baseruners but holds Reading in check. New Britain in their half of the first manages to load the bases with nobody out. It is clear, though, they the parent club has done a good job of teaching “Twins Baseball” as the next three batters fly out and they end up getting only one run. They make up for it in the next two innings, however, when the Rockcats take advantage of a shaky performance by the Reading starter (Brody Colvin, making his second start at this level, who lasts 2.2 innings, giving up four hits and seven walks and bouncing more than one ball to the backstop). In the second, Chris Hermann hits a nice three-run homer over the right field fence (it is the first and only hit of the inning for New Britain – those walks will kill ya.) Then, in the third, Romero takes first after being hit by the pitch, Hanson singles and Beresford doubles (bringing in Romero), and Hermann walks, loading the bases. That will be it for the Reading Starter as he is pulled for a reliever, who promptly gives up singles to Arcia and Colabello, scoring three more. At the end of three, it is 8-2 New Britain. The game is basically over from that point forward, going on cruise control until late in the evening. Arcia caps a three-hit night with a two-run homer in the seventh (how is this guy not in the majors yet!), making it 10-2, and Bruce Pugh and Edgar Ibarra combine to give up four runs in the eighth and ninth and perhaps give Reading a false sense of hope, but Dakota Watts finally closes it out with a one-pitch grounder back to the mound and the fans go away happy. The series win is guaranteed, and more importantly New Britain now has a little cushion over their rival in the race for that second playoff spot. It is football night at New Britain Stadium, and they modify their contests appropriately. In one, three Dunkin’ Donuts mascots are racing a young child (who everybody knows is supposed to win), and it looks like the iced coffee is about to pull off an upset, when out of the dugout comes a red-shirted football player to take him down with a nice body tackle, clearing the way for the youngster. The football theme also carries over into their tossing contest, as two teams, made up of two kids each, compete. Each team has a person bending over in football fashion trying to hike rolls of toilet paper through their legs back to their teammates who are holding hula hoops. I’m not sure what the final score was (I didn’t see any of the rolls actually go through the hoops), but the contest appears to be successful and the kids go away happy.

I pull into the parking lot of the motel just north of Baltimore and get a room for the night. I lay back on the bed for a minute and I realize one thing – I am tired! So tired that I decide to throw dietary cautions to the wind and call the local Pizza Hut for a delivery. As I knew it would be, it has been a long haul these past couple of days, heading out from Fort Myers on Thursday morning, stopping for the night in Somewhere, South Carolina, and then continuing on today through North Carolina, Virginia and on into Maryland. The timing turns out lousy, and I hit the Washington/Baltimore complex just in time to catch the start of rush hour as the people head out early for the weekend. In my mind I tell myself that this is a preview of tomorrow, when I work my way through New York City (although hopefully, being Saturday, it won’t be that bad). But! – the goal has been accomplished. I am now about five hours away from Hartford, which will allow me to get in early enough to rest a bit before heading out to New Britain Stadium. The tiredness is actually something that I appreciate, as it fits in to a larger theme I had in my mind when I first conceived of this trip. When I first got the notion to do this, back in April, I thought it would be neat if, as much as possible, I use the trip to get just a sense of what it’s like to be a professional ballplayer in the minor leagues. The schedule worked itself out nicely, as this time in August and the relative location of the teams lent itself to working my way up the system – from Beloit to Fort Myers to New Britain to Rochester – just as a player would hope to do. (Yes, going to Elizabethton after Beloit breaks the pattern, but at some point the concept had to give way to practicality, and that seemed the best way to handle it). The long drive up the coast that I have just about knocked off gives me perhaps a taste of the long bus trips that minor league players have to make. Like the players, I find myself having to grab fast food on the run, even if I know it isn’t really the best for me, and I have to carve time into my schedule to do an occasional load of laundry and the other necessary housekeeping chores that are a part of life. I have to watch my money, staying in relatively cheap hotels (some of which should be castigated with limp noodles for what they call a “continental breakfast”) and living out of my single suitcase. When I first started making my schedule I also had it set up so that, even on my “off” nights, when I wasn’t near a Twins affiliate, there would be a farm club of another MLB team in the area whose game I could attend (and in one case a National League game), to simulate the every-day nature of the professional game. That last part was dropped when I decided that the main point of the trip was to have fun and not have it be work, and that an evening off every now and then might be a nice thing for a person of my age. I decided that, as much as I love baseball, going to seventeen games in seventeen nights would probably test even my limit. So here I sit, on an off night (getting ready to follow the Twins game long-distance), realizing that the trip is over halfway done, having enjoyed what I have seen so far, and looking forward to the games that are ahead.

I pull into the parking lot of the motel just north of Baltimore and get a room for the night. I lay back on the bed for a minute and I realize one thing – I am tired! So tired that I decide to throw dietary cautions to the wind and call the local Pizza Hut for a delivery. As I knew it would be, it has been a long haul these past couple of days, heading out from Fort Myers on Thursday morning, stopping for the night in Somewhere, South Carolina, and then continuing on today through North Carolina, Virginia and on into Maryland. The timing turns out lousy, and I hit the Washington/Baltimore complex just in time to catch the start of rush hour as the people head out early for the weekend. In my mind I tell myself that this is a preview of tomorrow, when I work my way through New York City (although hopefully, being Saturday, it won’t be that bad). But! – the goal has been accomplished. I am now about five hours away from Hartford, which will allow me to get in early enough to rest a bit before heading out to New Britain Stadium. The tiredness is actually something that I appreciate, as it fits in to a larger theme I had in my mind when I first conceived of this trip. When I first got the notion to do this, back in April, I thought it would be neat if, as much as possible, I use the trip to get just a sense of what it’s like to be a professional ballplayer in the minor leagues. The schedule worked itself out nicely, as this time in August and the relative location of the teams lent itself to working my way up the system – from Beloit to Fort Myers to New Britain to Rochester – just as a player would hope to do. (Yes, going to Elizabethton after Beloit breaks the pattern, but at some point the concept had to give way to practicality, and that seemed the best way to handle it). The long drive up the coast that I have just about knocked off gives me perhaps a taste of the long bus trips that minor league players have to make. Like the players, I find myself having to grab fast food on the run, even if I know it isn’t really the best for me, and I have to carve time into my schedule to do an occasional load of laundry and the other necessary housekeeping chores that are a part of life. I have to watch my money, staying in relatively cheap hotels (some of which should be castigated with limp noodles for what they call a “continental breakfast”) and living out of my single suitcase. When I first started making my schedule I also had it set up so that, even on my “off” nights, when I wasn’t near a Twins affiliate, there would be a farm club of another MLB team in the area whose game I could attend (and in one case a National League game), to simulate the every-day nature of the professional game. That last part was dropped when I decided that the main point of the trip was to have fun and not have it be work, and that an evening off every now and then might be a nice thing for a person of my age. I decided that, as much as I love baseball, going to seventeen games in seventeen nights would probably test even my limit. So here I sit, on an off night (getting ready to follow the Twins game long-distance), realizing that the trip is over halfway done, having enjoyed what I have seen so far, and looking forward to the games that are ahead.

I arrive this evening curious to see just how exactly they are going to turn bacon into a promotion. I end up being underwhelmed – all it means is that you can purchase a small paper basket of bacon strips for $1 when you buy any other concession stand item. I choose not to indulge, and judging by how many people I saw carrying those small paper baskets around, not many others do either. They also wrapped the ball for the ceremonial pitch in bacon too (I’m not sure why), but it doesn’t seem to have any effect. The only interesting thing that happens during the ceremonial toss is watching the mascot (Miss a-Miracle) deftly dance trying to catch the pitch without landing her feet on the freshly drawn batters and catchers boxes. In any case, it is a small crowd, slightly under 800 (and well below their season average). Some promotions are born great, some have greatness thrust upon them, and some crash and burn, I guess. The big question for tonight is how will Jupiter (and Fort Myers, for that matter) respond to last night’s drubbing. Almost immediately it begins to look like more of the same. Pat Dean starts off throwing three good innings, giving up only one hit, walking one and striking out two. In the bottom half of those innings, the Miracle start working the scoreboard once again. They open with three consecutive hits (followed by an error on the shortstop) to quickly put two runs across. The second inning goes nowhere, but then in the third they get hot once more. An opening walk to Ray, last night’s hero, followed by hits from Pinto, Rams, Gonzales and Leer score three more, and after three complete it is 5-0, Fort Myers on top. It is at this point that I start to wonder if the game will get finished, as the skies start looking threatening and the rumble of thunder begins to be heard to the south. The weather has actually been somewhat better this evening – the temperature is still the same, but it doesn’t feel quite as muggy and there is an intermittant breeze to take the edge off. The game continues, and now Dean begins to fade a little bit. His command is not quite as good, the Hammerheads start getting some hard hits, and air outs are replacing ground outs. He gives up two runs in the fourth and makes it interesting in the sixth before getting out of the inning. All in all, a solid performance, but I am just as glad he doesn’t come out for the seventh. Fortunately, it doesn’t matter, as Fort Myers immediately gets back the two runs in the bottom of the fourth (Santana scoring on a nice RBI triple from Lance Ray, and Ray scoring on Danny Rams’ single), and the game goes into the seventh with the Miracle up 7-2 and seemingly heading for another win. Clint Dempster comes in and immediately gives up two hits, but pitches out of it. Then, in the bottom of the seventh, with two out, the long anticipated rain arrives, and arrives quickly. In the space of a few heartbeats a slow drizzle turns into a downpour, the fans flee for the shelter of the stadium concourse, and the grounds crew covers the diamond with the tarp. While the rain is pelting down and the lighting is flashing, the PA announcer informs the waiting crowd that the safest place to be during a thunderstorm is in front of the concession stand. It is gratifying to know they take such an interest in our safety (or... are they trying to sell more hot dogs?) Given the five run lead with less than two innings to go, I am not surprised when, after the required thirty-minute delay has passed, the umpire comes out, gives the wash-out signal to the press box, and the game is called for another Miracle victory (giving me a 4-1-1 record for the road trip!) I do give congratulations to the Miracle for one of the more novel promotions I’ve seen in baseball – there is an auto detailing firm in town who, when the game starts, goes through the parking lot and picks out the dirtiest, filthiest car they can find. When the license plate is announced over the speakers, the owner is invited to come to guest services and pick up a coupon for a free car wash (and no, it is not mine). I am also a little disappointed that the rain also washed out one of the between-inning contests – the shoe search. The family sitting a few seats over in my row has had their two young children picked to participate. They are going to have their shoes taken off and, after the seventh inning is over, their shoes (along with a boatload of others) will be dumped on the sideline and they have to go pick theirs out (with some sort of prize if they can do so). With the lightning, the contest is cancelled and the kids end up disappointed (actually, the parents are disappointed – the kids don’t really seem to care). Thus ends my time in Fort Myers, and I head back to the motel to rest up for the long trek up the coast. *** Couple of side notes today. First, after spending a nice, quiet morning with a leisurely breakfast and some time spent reading on the beach (it’s still good to be on an ocean beach, even in August!), I head over to the complex and catch the first couple hours of the GCL game. I mention it because you never know who you will see over there. First, as the game starts, a Twins staffer calls one of the players sharing the bleachers with me over to him. It is Kyle Gibson. I learn later that he is being moved from the GCL team to the Miracle to continue his rehab. (Slama is also there and pitches in the game, but I left before he was put in). I also happen to notice, looking over to my left at the third base side bleachers, a man who looks suspiciously like Terry Ryan (later confirmed by a staffer). I spend a few minutes wondering if I should go over and say Hi and introduce myself, but before I decide either way he gets a phone call, walks under a nearby palm tree to take it, and shortly afterward heads off to another part of the complex. The other side note is actually from Tuesday’s game, late in the evening when the lopsided score has made following the game somewhat irrelevant for all but the die-hard purists. A Miracle staffer is talking to an elderly fan sitting near me, and I can follow their conversation. The staffer is saying that the biggest difference between the pros and the high school/colleges from which players come is the schedule. It’s not changing to the wooden bats (most adapt to that fairly quickly); it is going from playing a few games a week to playing almost every day, non-stop, for weeks on end. It is the grind of professional baseball and how players adapt to it that helps sort out who is going to make it and who won’t. I find the comments enlightening and perceptive. It also points out to me perhaps the true value of the short-season leagues. It allows the newly drafted players to make the transition in a smaller step – two-plus months instead of five-plus – so by the time spring training and the full season leagues start next year, they have already begun to get used to the marathon-like nature of the professional game.

I arrive this evening curious to see just how exactly they are going to turn bacon into a promotion. I end up being underwhelmed – all it means is that you can purchase a small paper basket of bacon strips for $1 when you buy any other concession stand item. I choose not to indulge, and judging by how many people I saw carrying those small paper baskets around, not many others do either. They also wrapped the ball for the ceremonial pitch in bacon too (I’m not sure why), but it doesn’t seem to have any effect. The only interesting thing that happens during the ceremonial toss is watching the mascot (Miss a-Miracle) deftly dance trying to catch the pitch without landing her feet on the freshly drawn batters and catchers boxes. In any case, it is a small crowd, slightly under 800 (and well below their season average). Some promotions are born great, some have greatness thrust upon them, and some crash and burn, I guess. The big question for tonight is how will Jupiter (and Fort Myers, for that matter) respond to last night’s drubbing. Almost immediately it begins to look like more of the same. Pat Dean starts off throwing three good innings, giving up only one hit, walking one and striking out two. In the bottom half of those innings, the Miracle start working the scoreboard once again. They open with three consecutive hits (followed by an error on the shortstop) to quickly put two runs across. The second inning goes nowhere, but then in the third they get hot once more. An opening walk to Ray, last night’s hero, followed by hits from Pinto, Rams, Gonzales and Leer score three more, and after three complete it is 5-0, Fort Myers on top. It is at this point that I start to wonder if the game will get finished, as the skies start looking threatening and the rumble of thunder begins to be heard to the south. The weather has actually been somewhat better this evening – the temperature is still the same, but it doesn’t feel quite as muggy and there is an intermittant breeze to take the edge off. The game continues, and now Dean begins to fade a little bit. His command is not quite as good, the Hammerheads start getting some hard hits, and air outs are replacing ground outs. He gives up two runs in the fourth and makes it interesting in the sixth before getting out of the inning. All in all, a solid performance, but I am just as glad he doesn’t come out for the seventh. Fortunately, it doesn’t matter, as Fort Myers immediately gets back the two runs in the bottom of the fourth (Santana scoring on a nice RBI triple from Lance Ray, and Ray scoring on Danny Rams’ single), and the game goes into the seventh with the Miracle up 7-2 and seemingly heading for another win. Clint Dempster comes in and immediately gives up two hits, but pitches out of it. Then, in the bottom of the seventh, with two out, the long anticipated rain arrives, and arrives quickly. In the space of a few heartbeats a slow drizzle turns into a downpour, the fans flee for the shelter of the stadium concourse, and the grounds crew covers the diamond with the tarp. While the rain is pelting down and the lighting is flashing, the PA announcer informs the waiting crowd that the safest place to be during a thunderstorm is in front of the concession stand. It is gratifying to know they take such an interest in our safety (or... are they trying to sell more hot dogs?) Given the five run lead with less than two innings to go, I am not surprised when, after the required thirty-minute delay has passed, the umpire comes out, gives the wash-out signal to the press box, and the game is called for another Miracle victory (giving me a 4-1-1 record for the road trip!) I do give congratulations to the Miracle for one of the more novel promotions I’ve seen in baseball – there is an auto detailing firm in town who, when the game starts, goes through the parking lot and picks out the dirtiest, filthiest car they can find. When the license plate is announced over the speakers, the owner is invited to come to guest services and pick up a coupon for a free car wash (and no, it is not mine). I am also a little disappointed that the rain also washed out one of the between-inning contests – the shoe search. The family sitting a few seats over in my row has had their two young children picked to participate. They are going to have their shoes taken off and, after the seventh inning is over, their shoes (along with a boatload of others) will be dumped on the sideline and they have to go pick theirs out (with some sort of prize if they can do so). With the lightning, the contest is cancelled and the kids end up disappointed (actually, the parents are disappointed – the kids don’t really seem to care). Thus ends my time in Fort Myers, and I head back to the motel to rest up for the long trek up the coast. *** Couple of side notes today. First, after spending a nice, quiet morning with a leisurely breakfast and some time spent reading on the beach (it’s still good to be on an ocean beach, even in August!), I head over to the complex and catch the first couple hours of the GCL game. I mention it because you never know who you will see over there. First, as the game starts, a Twins staffer calls one of the players sharing the bleachers with me over to him. It is Kyle Gibson. I learn later that he is being moved from the GCL team to the Miracle to continue his rehab. (Slama is also there and pitches in the game, but I left before he was put in). I also happen to notice, looking over to my left at the third base side bleachers, a man who looks suspiciously like Terry Ryan (later confirmed by a staffer). I spend a few minutes wondering if I should go over and say Hi and introduce myself, but before I decide either way he gets a phone call, walks under a nearby palm tree to take it, and shortly afterward heads off to another part of the complex. The other side note is actually from Tuesday’s game, late in the evening when the lopsided score has made following the game somewhat irrelevant for all but the die-hard purists. A Miracle staffer is talking to an elderly fan sitting near me, and I can follow their conversation. The staffer is saying that the biggest difference between the pros and the high school/colleges from which players come is the schedule. It’s not changing to the wooden bats (most adapt to that fairly quickly); it is going from playing a few games a week to playing almost every day, non-stop, for weeks on end. It is the grind of professional baseball and how players adapt to it that helps sort out who is going to make it and who won’t. I find the comments enlightening and perceptive. It also points out to me perhaps the true value of the short-season leagues. It allows the newly drafted players to make the transition in a smaller step – two-plus months instead of five-plus – so by the time spring training and the full season leagues start next year, they have already begun to get used to the marathon-like nature of the professional game.

Actually, I can tell you how that works. I was at the GCL game today for a few innings as well, and one of the Twins staffers here was doubling as the official scorer. Every half inning he would pull out his cellphone and call in the scoring for that inning.

Nice article! Explains it well. One point - I believe the team in Elizabethton is owned by the city, not by the Twins, just like Beloit is community-owned. If you call the team's phone number as shown on their official web page, you get the city parks department. Atlanta has pursued that model of owning their own affiliates (they own all but one, I believe) and Colorado just purchased one of their rookie affiliates and moved it to a city closer to Denver.

As soon as I get to the stadium tonight, I can tell that I am moving up the chain and getting closer to how things are done in the big leagues – for the first time, I have to pay for parking ($3). The stadium itself is actually a stadium – it isn’t just a ball field surrounded by stands – which you would expect given that it is the spring training home of the parent club. Two main seating options: there are the $9.50 box seats which are individual plastic seats situated in the lower half of the stadium, and there are the $7.50 general admission tickets for the metal benches that populate the upper half. This time I’m sitting behind the Miracle dugout on the third base line, two rows up from the rail. Taking a quick look over at home plate tells me that I will have to be on my toes tonight, as I am in prime territory to take a sharp foul off a left-handed hitter (which doesn’t happen). Because it is the spring home of the Twins you get much more sense of the stadium and club being connected with the parent. On the facade under the press box are all the numbers retired by the Twins, and the division, league and world series pennants are noted, as is the replica of the 1987 championship ring – all just like Target Field. Lining the outfield fence are a variety of palm trees, giving the park its local flavor. Just as the quality of the stadium has improved, so has the quality of the food. There is the traditional ballpark fare – it is in fact 2-4-1 night, where hots dogs and small sodas are two for the price of one. I opt instead for the hamburger bar. I toy with ordering a Richard Simmons burger – a hamburger topped with with a chicken breast, a brat, bacon & cheese – and decide instead to opt for the healthier mac-n-cheese burger (just what it sounds like), which is actually quite good. The stands are fairly empty – the stated attendance was just under 1,000 in a facility which holds 7,500 – and the person sitting next to me (a retiree from New Jersey who has moved to Fort Myers and is a big Phillies fan) also comments on how small the crowd is. He thinks it has to do with the fact that it’s getting late in the season and the team hasn’t been doing that well, so fans are just getting worn out. He also shares the cute slogan (which I heard from a couple others as well) that if the team plays well, it’s a “Miracle.” The skies are cloudy and there are some nasty-looking clouds in the area, but the weather holds off and is not a factor. It is one of the more unpleasant nights to watch baseball, with temperatures in the uppers 80s and heat indexes in the uppers 90s most of the game, with little or no wind for relief. I remember reading an article in the Star Tribune about how the Florida State League is a pitcher’s league. That is a concept that does not hold true tonight. Just as my last attempted game saw a deluge of water, this time there is a deluge of hits and runs. Every Miracle starter has a hit, scores a run, and all but two have an RBI. Before that, however, it is the Carl Pavano show as he makes his first rehab start after being put on the DL in June. He pitches two innings, facing seven batters. His control is good, but he is a pitch-to-contact pitcher, giving up a solo homer in the first and a solid single in the second (erased by a subsequent double-play). His fastball is right in the 84-86 mph range both innings. The Miracle do get a couple in their half of the first, thanks to a two-RBI single from Lance Ray, starting off a big night for him. The Jupiter starter is wild, walking two and hitting another, and gives hope that sooner or later the Miracle will take him for a bunch. In the third, that hope becomes a reality, as the Miracle send thirteen men to the plate, get six hits and four walks, and put them together for nine runs (all earned). It starts off with Liddle, Pinto & Rams loading the bases with a single and two walks. Then Lance Ray hits a deep fly that clears the fence in right-center, scoring four and putting the Miracle up 6-1 with nobody out in the third. It doesn’t stop. Singles from Knudson (no relation) and Morales, walks to Santana and Michael, and two more hits (single for Liddle, double for Pinto) bring in four more. A final sacrifice fly adds to the total and the third inning ends with an 11-1 lead for Fort Myers. Boer (who replaced Pavano in the third) is iffy, giving up one in the fourth and three more in the seventh before he is pulled (Fuentes does a nice job to finish the final 2+ innings), but it doesn’t matter as the Miracle keep their foot on the gas and get eleven more over the next four innings, making the final 22-5. Highlights included three more Miracle home runs (a two-run shot from Rams, a solo bomb from Ray for his second of the night, and a two-run ding from Morales, who seems to be picking up his game a little). As the game approaches the later innings you can tell that even the cynical Miracle fans are happy as the team continues to pick away. Their attention span begins to fade as the on-field action is now taken for granted and they begin to focus on other things, occasionally checking in to see how many more the Miracle have scored. It is not unlike what happens after Thanksgiving when the turkey is eaten and, even though attention has turned away from the meal and the conversation begins in earnest, people will periodically reach over and pull off one more bite, “filling in the corners,” until they are truly stuffed. By the time it ends, most of the crowd has already left. I drive out with a scorecard that looks like the physics calculations NASA used for their moon shots (picking up a coupon for a free Jr. Frosty at Wendy’s as I leave the gate) and get back to the motel to sleep and dream of long flies over the fence. *** One side note from tonight's game. For the first time ever in my life, I get my hands on a ball used in play. After a foul grounder is corraled by the ballboy, he tosses it to a young child in the seats near mine. She doesn't catch it, it bounces down, and comes to a stop in my row a couple of seats over, from where I retrieve it. After forty-eight years! (And yes, I did give it back to the girl).

As soon as I get to the stadium tonight, I can tell that I am moving up the chain and getting closer to how things are done in the big leagues – for the first time, I have to pay for parking ($3). The stadium itself is actually a stadium – it isn’t just a ball field surrounded by stands – which you would expect given that it is the spring training home of the parent club. Two main seating options: there are the $9.50 box seats which are individual plastic seats situated in the lower half of the stadium, and there are the $7.50 general admission tickets for the metal benches that populate the upper half. This time I’m sitting behind the Miracle dugout on the third base line, two rows up from the rail. Taking a quick look over at home plate tells me that I will have to be on my toes tonight, as I am in prime territory to take a sharp foul off a left-handed hitter (which doesn’t happen). Because it is the spring home of the Twins you get much more sense of the stadium and club being connected with the parent. On the facade under the press box are all the numbers retired by the Twins, and the division, league and world series pennants are noted, as is the replica of the 1987 championship ring – all just like Target Field. Lining the outfield fence are a variety of palm trees, giving the park its local flavor. Just as the quality of the stadium has improved, so has the quality of the food. There is the traditional ballpark fare – it is in fact 2-4-1 night, where hots dogs and small sodas are two for the price of one. I opt instead for the hamburger bar. I toy with ordering a Richard Simmons burger – a hamburger topped with with a chicken breast, a brat, bacon & cheese – and decide instead to opt for the healthier mac-n-cheese burger (just what it sounds like), which is actually quite good. The stands are fairly empty – the stated attendance was just under 1,000 in a facility which holds 7,500 – and the person sitting next to me (a retiree from New Jersey who has moved to Fort Myers and is a big Phillies fan) also comments on how small the crowd is. He thinks it has to do with the fact that it’s getting late in the season and the team hasn’t been doing that well, so fans are just getting worn out. He also shares the cute slogan (which I heard from a couple others as well) that if the team plays well, it’s a “Miracle.” The skies are cloudy and there are some nasty-looking clouds in the area, but the weather holds off and is not a factor. It is one of the more unpleasant nights to watch baseball, with temperatures in the uppers 80s and heat indexes in the uppers 90s most of the game, with little or no wind for relief. I remember reading an article in the Star Tribune about how the Florida State League is a pitcher’s league. That is a concept that does not hold true tonight. Just as my last attempted game saw a deluge of water, this time there is a deluge of hits and runs. Every Miracle starter has a hit, scores a run, and all but two have an RBI. Before that, however, it is the Carl Pavano show as he makes his first rehab start after being put on the DL in June. He pitches two innings, facing seven batters. His control is good, but he is a pitch-to-contact pitcher, giving up a solo homer in the first and a solid single in the second (erased by a subsequent double-play). His fastball is right in the 84-86 mph range both innings. The Miracle do get a couple in their half of the first, thanks to a two-RBI single from Lance Ray, starting off a big night for him. The Jupiter starter is wild, walking two and hitting another, and gives hope that sooner or later the Miracle will take him for a bunch. In the third, that hope becomes a reality, as the Miracle send thirteen men to the plate, get six hits and four walks, and put them together for nine runs (all earned). It starts off with Liddle, Pinto & Rams loading the bases with a single and two walks. Then Lance Ray hits a deep fly that clears the fence in right-center, scoring four and putting the Miracle up 6-1 with nobody out in the third. It doesn’t stop. Singles from Knudson (no relation) and Morales, walks to Santana and Michael, and two more hits (single for Liddle, double for Pinto) bring in four more. A final sacrifice fly adds to the total and the third inning ends with an 11-1 lead for Fort Myers. Boer (who replaced Pavano in the third) is iffy, giving up one in the fourth and three more in the seventh before he is pulled (Fuentes does a nice job to finish the final 2+ innings), but it doesn’t matter as the Miracle keep their foot on the gas and get eleven more over the next four innings, making the final 22-5. Highlights included three more Miracle home runs (a two-run shot from Rams, a solo bomb from Ray for his second of the night, and a two-run ding from Morales, who seems to be picking up his game a little). As the game approaches the later innings you can tell that even the cynical Miracle fans are happy as the team continues to pick away. Their attention span begins to fade as the on-field action is now taken for granted and they begin to focus on other things, occasionally checking in to see how many more the Miracle have scored. It is not unlike what happens after Thanksgiving when the turkey is eaten and, even though attention has turned away from the meal and the conversation begins in earnest, people will periodically reach over and pull off one more bite, “filling in the corners,” until they are truly stuffed. By the time it ends, most of the crowd has already left. I drive out with a scorecard that looks like the physics calculations NASA used for their moon shots (picking up a coupon for a free Jr. Frosty at Wendy’s as I leave the gate) and get back to the motel to sleep and dream of long flies over the fence. *** One side note from tonight's game. For the first time ever in my life, I get my hands on a ball used in play. After a foul grounder is corraled by the ballboy, he tosses it to a young child in the seats near mine. She doesn't catch it, it bounces down, and comes to a stop in my row a couple of seats over, from where I retrieve it. After forty-eight years! (And yes, I did give it back to the girl).

I get into Fort Myers about quarter to two – too early to check into the motel, so I decide to buzz out quick to the Lee County Sports Complex to see if I can catch the tail end of the GCL game. Sure enough, I manage to take in the last couple of innings. I drive in the main entrance to Hammond Stadium, go past the empty parking lots, and at the west end of the complex pull off the road onto the grass where a number of cars have created a makeshift parking lot. Walking past the Twins offices here I get to field 1, where the game is underway. The field is basically a high school field, if that. There are no dugouts per se – the players benchs are segregated by a chainlink fence that surrounds the field. There is no crowd noise getting in the way, so you can hear the banter back and forth from the players on the field and the bench as the game progresses. Some in english, some in spanish. There are three small bleacher sections, each about fifteen yards long and four rows high. Both the players areas and the bleachers are covered, so at least you are out of the sun. Looking toward the outfield, I immediately notice the complete lack of advertising on the outfield fence (also chain link) – something that was quite prominent in both my previous stops. There is no admission charge, no refreshment stands or noticeable vending machines. There is however a restroom next to the field (for which I am grateful after my drive). Unlike most professional games, following the action requires careful attention unless you wish to be hopelessly lost. There is no scoreboard, no announcer, no roster sheets, no scorecards, no players names on the backs of their jerseys. If I go tomorrow I will need to take pen and paper just to keep track of the score, the inning, how many outs, etc...I will not try to keep score in any case. The stands are about a quarter to a third full, with many of them being players not in the lineup (opposing team players interspersed and sitting side-by-side, conversing in their native languages). I happen to be sitting near a woman with whom I strike up a conversation. As I suspected, she is there because she has become friends with one of the players – Jonathan Murphy. Turns out he and another of his teammates (Bryan Santy) met the woman at her church during Sunday worship (GCL takes Sunday off). It is a reminder that the nomadic nature of professional baseball often requires players to adjust and reacclimate to new surroundings on short notice. After getting to know them, she and her husband have become unofficial quasi-sponsors for John, helping him get adjusted to his new lifestyle and feeding him dinner a couple of nights a week (which is particularly appreciated as the pay at this level is meager). I ask her how John likes playing professional ball, to which she says, “He loves it.” That drives home to me what baseball should be about – players playing in 95 degree heat with few people watching for a mere pittance, in part because of the dream of making it to the Show someday but, also, simply because they love the game. The game ends, I make a beeline for my car to get to my air-conditioned hotel, and get ready for tonight’s Miracle game and the return of Carl Pavano.

I get into Fort Myers about quarter to two – too early to check into the motel, so I decide to buzz out quick to the Lee County Sports Complex to see if I can catch the tail end of the GCL game. Sure enough, I manage to take in the last couple of innings. I drive in the main entrance to Hammond Stadium, go past the empty parking lots, and at the west end of the complex pull off the road onto the grass where a number of cars have created a makeshift parking lot. Walking past the Twins offices here I get to field 1, where the game is underway. The field is basically a high school field, if that. There are no dugouts per se – the players benchs are segregated by a chainlink fence that surrounds the field. There is no crowd noise getting in the way, so you can hear the banter back and forth from the players on the field and the bench as the game progresses. Some in english, some in spanish. There are three small bleacher sections, each about fifteen yards long and four rows high. Both the players areas and the bleachers are covered, so at least you are out of the sun. Looking toward the outfield, I immediately notice the complete lack of advertising on the outfield fence (also chain link) – something that was quite prominent in both my previous stops. There is no admission charge, no refreshment stands or noticeable vending machines. There is however a restroom next to the field (for which I am grateful after my drive). Unlike most professional games, following the action requires careful attention unless you wish to be hopelessly lost. There is no scoreboard, no announcer, no roster sheets, no scorecards, no players names on the backs of their jerseys. If I go tomorrow I will need to take pen and paper just to keep track of the score, the inning, how many outs, etc...I will not try to keep score in any case. The stands are about a quarter to a third full, with many of them being players not in the lineup (opposing team players interspersed and sitting side-by-side, conversing in their native languages). I happen to be sitting near a woman with whom I strike up a conversation. As I suspected, she is there because she has become friends with one of the players – Jonathan Murphy. Turns out he and another of his teammates (Bryan Santy) met the woman at her church during Sunday worship (GCL takes Sunday off). It is a reminder that the nomadic nature of professional baseball often requires players to adjust and reacclimate to new surroundings on short notice. After getting to know them, she and her husband have become unofficial quasi-sponsors for John, helping him get adjusted to his new lifestyle and feeding him dinner a couple of nights a week (which is particularly appreciated as the pay at this level is meager). I ask her how John likes playing professional ball, to which she says, “He loves it.” That drives home to me what baseball should be about – players playing in 95 degree heat with few people watching for a mere pittance, in part because of the dream of making it to the Show someday but, also, simply because they love the game. The game ends, I make a beeline for my car to get to my air-conditioned hotel, and get ready for tonight’s Miracle game and the return of Carl Pavano.

No game tonight, as the “bible belt” proved to be all-too-true to it’s nickname and gave the residents here a reenactment of Noah’s flood. I pulled out of the parking lot in Johnson City at 6pm in the rain and promptly splashed water over the front of the hood. You could see the sheets of water running down the streets seeking lowest ground. Deciding that baseball is not worth sacrificing either myself or my vehicle (such as in trying to drive to Elizabethton) I decide to head back inside and await developments. Sure enough, a few minutes later the National Weather Service has issued a flash flood warning for Johnson City and Elizabethton with travel not being advised, and by 7pm the game has been officially postponed and rescheduled as a double-header tomorrow (Monday). This is somewhat ironic as it is Faith Night for the Twins, when many local church groups would presumably be attending, but then I remember that there are many other more pressing matters requiring our prayers and perhaps good weather for the night wasn’t on the list. Being a math major and having studied probability and statistics, I knew when I started this trip that weather would be a factor at some point. I chose to do this trip at this time because the respective schedules of the clubs not only lined up well but also allowed me to build in “weather days.” That being said, I don’t want to redo my schedule completely and risk missing out on one of the later stops, so I had to decide whether to stick around for the double-header or cut my losses and head out for Florida tomorrow morning. My goal was to watch each team twice, but it is more important that I get to see each team at least once (plus the weather service is predicting a 60% chance of rain tomorrow as well, so that double-header is by no means guaranteed), so I am going to end my Elizabethton stay at only one game. At least it’s not a complete loss, as I sit here in the hotel room watching Sunday Night Baseball on ESPN (St. Louis & Milwaukee). It is a disappointing end to the day, but at least the rest of the day was a pleasant addition to my trip. After going to worship at a local church and doing some laundry, I head out to spend some time in the area this afternoon. Stopping back in Elizabethton I tour the old fort there at Sycamore Shoals State Park and take a short hike along the banks of the Watauga River. Then, to get more flavor of the local area, I intentionally “lose” myself driving at random on some of the roads south of Elizabethton, getting as far as Roan Mountain about twenty miles south, then using my GPS to get me back to Johnson City. The roads in the back country are narrow and in some cases it would be a stretch for two cars to pass side-by-side. There are steep curves and hairpin turns as the roads wind among the mountains. The area is sporadically populated and most of the houses are normal, but there are a couple places where the rundown and ramshackle nature of the domecile start the opening notes of “Dueling Banjos” inside my head. (To be serious, I have yet to meet anyone who does fit the “Deliverance” stereotype; everyone down here has been gracious and friendly). Eventually I get back to Johnson City, sit back in the room and watch a couple hours of golf on TV, and then get ready for the game just as the skies open. So it’s on to Fort Myers, where I plan to be for the opening of their next homestand on Tuesday. *** P.S. My decision turns out to be prescient, as upon arrival in Jacksonville, FL for the night I go online and learn that today's doubleheader was cancelled due to weather.

No game tonight, as the “bible belt” proved to be all-too-true to it’s nickname and gave the residents here a reenactment of Noah’s flood. I pulled out of the parking lot in Johnson City at 6pm in the rain and promptly splashed water over the front of the hood. You could see the sheets of water running down the streets seeking lowest ground. Deciding that baseball is not worth sacrificing either myself or my vehicle (such as in trying to drive to Elizabethton) I decide to head back inside and await developments. Sure enough, a few minutes later the National Weather Service has issued a flash flood warning for Johnson City and Elizabethton with travel not being advised, and by 7pm the game has been officially postponed and rescheduled as a double-header tomorrow (Monday). This is somewhat ironic as it is Faith Night for the Twins, when many local church groups would presumably be attending, but then I remember that there are many other more pressing matters requiring our prayers and perhaps good weather for the night wasn’t on the list. Being a math major and having studied probability and statistics, I knew when I started this trip that weather would be a factor at some point. I chose to do this trip at this time because the respective schedules of the clubs not only lined up well but also allowed me to build in “weather days.” That being said, I don’t want to redo my schedule completely and risk missing out on one of the later stops, so I had to decide whether to stick around for the double-header or cut my losses and head out for Florida tomorrow morning. My goal was to watch each team twice, but it is more important that I get to see each team at least once (plus the weather service is predicting a 60% chance of rain tomorrow as well, so that double-header is by no means guaranteed), so I am going to end my Elizabethton stay at only one game. At least it’s not a complete loss, as I sit here in the hotel room watching Sunday Night Baseball on ESPN (St. Louis & Milwaukee). It is a disappointing end to the day, but at least the rest of the day was a pleasant addition to my trip. After going to worship at a local church and doing some laundry, I head out to spend some time in the area this afternoon. Stopping back in Elizabethton I tour the old fort there at Sycamore Shoals State Park and take a short hike along the banks of the Watauga River. Then, to get more flavor of the local area, I intentionally “lose” myself driving at random on some of the roads south of Elizabethton, getting as far as Roan Mountain about twenty miles south, then using my GPS to get me back to Johnson City. The roads in the back country are narrow and in some cases it would be a stretch for two cars to pass side-by-side. There are steep curves and hairpin turns as the roads wind among the mountains. The area is sporadically populated and most of the houses are normal, but there are a couple places where the rundown and ramshackle nature of the domecile start the opening notes of “Dueling Banjos” inside my head. (To be serious, I have yet to meet anyone who does fit the “Deliverance” stereotype; everyone down here has been gracious and friendly). Eventually I get back to Johnson City, sit back in the room and watch a couple hours of golf on TV, and then get ready for the game just as the skies open. So it’s on to Fort Myers, where I plan to be for the opening of their next homestand on Tuesday. *** P.S. My decision turns out to be prescient, as upon arrival in Jacksonville, FL for the night I go online and learn that today's doubleheader was cancelled due to weather.

I show up at the ballpark not really knowing what to expect. It is, by far, the smallest of the parks I will be attending (cap. 1500), which is to be expected for a rookie league team. It turns out to be basically a junior college or division III field. That being said, it does have character. It turns out I am visiting on a busy night. As I park the car and walk to the gate, I hear live music coming from inside the concourse. There is a fundraiser going on for the local United Way, with prize giveaways and an opportunity to make a $5 donation, which gets you into the game (I assume the United Way and the city have negotiated in advance how that will be divided between them). In addition, they are celebrating “Christmas in August.” Sitting in the reserved seats behind the plate one can look left and see a green plastic inflatable Christmas tree; Santa Claus prowls the field before the game and walks the concourse during it, greeting young and old fans alike; in between innings Christmas carols come over the loudspeaker, instead of the normal between-inning music. The ballpark itself is fairly standard – a small section of $6 reserved seats behind home plate (with a banner commemorating Kirby Puckett’s 1982 season in Elizabethton) and two general admission stands (a larger one down the first base line and a smaller one down the third base line) for $4. I checked the website before the game, and a season ticket for reserved seating (34 games) will set you back a whopping $100. I suspect the setting will be the most inspiring of the cities I visit. Looking out over the center field fence you see the Blue Ridge Mountains rising up before you. Turn your head over to the left and slightly behind and you can watch the Watauga River flow silently but swiftly along the green area surrounding its banks. There is a one concession stand (which I have not sampled yet but will Sunday) and a souvenir stand, selling all your traditional gear. I enter the game itself hoping for great things from the Twins, based on their record, but it turns out not to be their night. The umpires come out and meet with the managers, the anouncer gives the starting lineups, and it is only then that I realize who I’m looking at – Dale Ford, a former MLB umpire whose 25-year career ended during the ill-advised mass resignation in 1999. Currently serving as a member of the Tennessee legislature, he must still find time to be involved in the game, as there he is calling balls and strikes behind the plate. I find out later that he lives in the Johnson City area. Unfortunately, the rest of the highlights of the night belong to Danville, whose starting pitcher, Lucas Sims (Atlanta’s top pick in the recent draft, from a high school in Georgia), is basically untouchable for five innings. Regularly getting ahead in the count and seemingly inducing ground-ball outs at will, Sims shuts down the Twins lineup, surrendering only one hit (a shallow blooper from Rhodes in the second) and only letting three other balls leave the infield (all fly outs). He leaves the game after five innings, striking out five and walking one. Meanwhile, on the other side, Angel Mata keeps it close for four innings, pitching well if not quite as commanding as Sims. He also has five strikeouts and, with a solo homer in the first being the exception, looks like he is dueling Sims fairly close. He does also give up a run in the second, but while he did put the runner on base it is a poor throw on a stolen base attempt and an error on the shortstop that allows him to score. Then, in the fifth inning, in a deja vu of my second game in Beloit, the wheels come off for the Elizabethton starter. His control vanishes, he ends up walking three batters and giving up another single, and before you know it the Twins are down 5-0. Josh Burris, Tyler Herr and Luke Bard do a good job preventing any further damage, but it will end up costing the Twins the game. Elizabethton does finally get a couple across in the eighth inning, with Jorge Polanco hitting a nice blast over the right field fence for a two-run homer, and when the ninth inning comes around you do get the sense that anything is still possible (as the Twins have pulled off comebacks like this more than once this year). When they get a couple men on with one out, you can feel the palpable anticipation and hope from the crowd (most of whom have stayed this long). Only to end with a whimper and a 5-2 Danville victory. Like most clubs, Elizabethton has it’s share of between-inning contests for kids. I was surprised at first that the announcer doesn’t bother to explain how the contests work; they just say “Now it’s time for the rubber chicken toss” or “On the field we have our twirling bat contest.” I suppose they just assume that everyone there has seen them so many times they already know how the thing works (which in most cases is probably correct). The one I appreciated most was the “Hillbilly Horseshoe” contest, where a T-ball stand is placed on the sideline and two small children take turns throwing painted toilet seats trying to get them around the post. Gotta love that self-deprecating humor! *** While my focus in this blog is on my baseball experiences, I may also take some time to talk about other parts of my journey. The previous two days were spent driving down from Janesville to Johnson City, Tennessee, stopping to visit some friends overnight in Illinois and then stopping again in Kentucky at a Super 8. I’m using my Tom-Tom GPS to guide me, and I have it set to “shortest route” rather than “shortest time.” As a result, while I still spend a fair amount of time on the interstate highway system, I am also getting some miles on other highways, giving me a chance to really see good chunks of this country (which is one of the secondary reasons I am on this trip). The strategy really pays off once I get into Kentucky and head toward Tennessee. Winding my way through the Appalachians on curving two-lane roads gives a thrill that you just can’t get when you’re going 70 in a straight line on a bland piece of concrete. Both the scenery and the driving experience may turn out to be some of the non-baseball highlights of the trip.

I show up at the ballpark not really knowing what to expect. It is, by far, the smallest of the parks I will be attending (cap. 1500), which is to be expected for a rookie league team. It turns out to be basically a junior college or division III field. That being said, it does have character. It turns out I am visiting on a busy night. As I park the car and walk to the gate, I hear live music coming from inside the concourse. There is a fundraiser going on for the local United Way, with prize giveaways and an opportunity to make a $5 donation, which gets you into the game (I assume the United Way and the city have negotiated in advance how that will be divided between them). In addition, they are celebrating “Christmas in August.” Sitting in the reserved seats behind the plate one can look left and see a green plastic inflatable Christmas tree; Santa Claus prowls the field before the game and walks the concourse during it, greeting young and old fans alike; in between innings Christmas carols come over the loudspeaker, instead of the normal between-inning music. The ballpark itself is fairly standard – a small section of $6 reserved seats behind home plate (with a banner commemorating Kirby Puckett’s 1982 season in Elizabethton) and two general admission stands (a larger one down the first base line and a smaller one down the third base line) for $4. I checked the website before the game, and a season ticket for reserved seating (34 games) will set you back a whopping $100. I suspect the setting will be the most inspiring of the cities I visit. Looking out over the center field fence you see the Blue Ridge Mountains rising up before you. Turn your head over to the left and slightly behind and you can watch the Watauga River flow silently but swiftly along the green area surrounding its banks. There is a one concession stand (which I have not sampled yet but will Sunday) and a souvenir stand, selling all your traditional gear. I enter the game itself hoping for great things from the Twins, based on their record, but it turns out not to be their night. The umpires come out and meet with the managers, the anouncer gives the starting lineups, and it is only then that I realize who I’m looking at – Dale Ford, a former MLB umpire whose 25-year career ended during the ill-advised mass resignation in 1999. Currently serving as a member of the Tennessee legislature, he must still find time to be involved in the game, as there he is calling balls and strikes behind the plate. I find out later that he lives in the Johnson City area. Unfortunately, the rest of the highlights of the night belong to Danville, whose starting pitcher, Lucas Sims (Atlanta’s top pick in the recent draft, from a high school in Georgia), is basically untouchable for five innings. Regularly getting ahead in the count and seemingly inducing ground-ball outs at will, Sims shuts down the Twins lineup, surrendering only one hit (a shallow blooper from Rhodes in the second) and only letting three other balls leave the infield (all fly outs). He leaves the game after five innings, striking out five and walking one. Meanwhile, on the other side, Angel Mata keeps it close for four innings, pitching well if not quite as commanding as Sims. He also has five strikeouts and, with a solo homer in the first being the exception, looks like he is dueling Sims fairly close. He does also give up a run in the second, but while he did put the runner on base it is a poor throw on a stolen base attempt and an error on the shortstop that allows him to score. Then, in the fifth inning, in a deja vu of my second game in Beloit, the wheels come off for the Elizabethton starter. His control vanishes, he ends up walking three batters and giving up another single, and before you know it the Twins are down 5-0. Josh Burris, Tyler Herr and Luke Bard do a good job preventing any further damage, but it will end up costing the Twins the game. Elizabethton does finally get a couple across in the eighth inning, with Jorge Polanco hitting a nice blast over the right field fence for a two-run homer, and when the ninth inning comes around you do get the sense that anything is still possible (as the Twins have pulled off comebacks like this more than once this year). When they get a couple men on with one out, you can feel the palpable anticipation and hope from the crowd (most of whom have stayed this long). Only to end with a whimper and a 5-2 Danville victory. Like most clubs, Elizabethton has it’s share of between-inning contests for kids. I was surprised at first that the announcer doesn’t bother to explain how the contests work; they just say “Now it’s time for the rubber chicken toss” or “On the field we have our twirling bat contest.” I suppose they just assume that everyone there has seen them so many times they already know how the thing works (which in most cases is probably correct). The one I appreciated most was the “Hillbilly Horseshoe” contest, where a T-ball stand is placed on the sideline and two small children take turns throwing painted toilet seats trying to get them around the post. Gotta love that self-deprecating humor! *** While my focus in this blog is on my baseball experiences, I may also take some time to talk about other parts of my journey. The previous two days were spent driving down from Janesville to Johnson City, Tennessee, stopping to visit some friends overnight in Illinois and then stopping again in Kentucky at a Super 8. I’m using my Tom-Tom GPS to guide me, and I have it set to “shortest route” rather than “shortest time.” As a result, while I still spend a fair amount of time on the interstate highway system, I am also getting some miles on other highways, giving me a chance to really see good chunks of this country (which is one of the secondary reasons I am on this trip). The strategy really pays off once I get into Kentucky and head toward Tennessee. Winding my way through the Appalachians on curving two-lane roads gives a thrill that you just can’t get when you’re going 70 in a straight line on a bland piece of concrete. Both the scenery and the driving experience may turn out to be some of the non-baseball highlights of the trip.

After spending a relaxing day in the Janesville/Beloit area (went to see Cave of the Mounds and did some hiking at some local parks), I headed out to the ballpark again a touch earlier this evening. Had to stop at the Culver’s in Beloit to get my free dish of custard for last night’s win. Getting to the ballpark I have time today to walk around a little bit and see what’s there. One main concession stand right near the main entrance (operating at half capacity, and which I did utilize late in the game, during the eighth inning when they announced $1 hot dogs while supplies lasted) and two other stands near the ends of either bleacher (one is actually a small bbq place which I would have tried if I hadn’t eaten at Culver’s earlier). There are a few games for the kids, including the ubiquitous trampoline tent, but not a whole lot. I walk past the poster advertising the Prince Fielder Bobble-arm night coming up in about a week (he is decked out in a Snapper uniform, of course), and stop to see how fast I could throw a baseball at a stand near the main entrance. My (long dormant) dreams of a miracle mid-age career (ala The Rookie) finally gasp their last breath and die as I realize that my 60mph fastball probably won’t be good enough to make it, even if I do have lousy location. There aren’t quite as many fans in the stands this night (500-something compared to 800+ the night before), and it is a good mix of families with small kids, a few average folk like me, a good share of senior citizens (including one woman who looks to be in her late eighties but who can still get around good and is ringing a teacher’s school bell she has brought whenever the Snappers do something right). Unlike Target Field, only a handful are wearing apparel that sport team colors or insignia. Those that do are about evenly divided between the Twins and the Snappers (with the Green Bay Packers easily taking third place!) No live singer tonight; the anthem is organ music (live or canned I couldn’t tell). I’ve sometimes had people tell me you can tell a lot about how the game is going to go by the first pitch. For the first few innings that would-be aphorism seems to hold. Taylor Rogers gets the game off with a strike (the first of many he threw as he struck out five in his five innings of work and not often falling behind in the count) and basically shuts down Kane County for the first four innings. Meanwhile, for the Cougars, the first pitch hit the lead-off batter (Nate Roberts) and starts a three-run first inning, the highlight of which was a long shot from Miguel Sano over the left-center fence. The fielder never even moved. It is the first of two key hits Sano would have, driving in the first five Snapper runs. The Snappers added three more the next few innings and by the end of the fourth this is starting to feel like a rout. As so often happens in baseball, however, the momentum shifts. Rogers begins to struggle in the fifth giving up three hits which, combined with two infield errors (Sano & Rosario) allow the Cougars to climb back to within one (6-5). Atherton comes in to pitch 1+ innings but is pulled in the seventh for Melotakis after a base hit and error on a pick-off attempt leaves a runner on third with two out. Melotakis gives up two consecutive singles and the game is tied. Fortunately, he does no futher real damage and Zach Jones enters in the eighth and gets the last five outs (including 3 K). The Snappers had managed to scrape up solo runs in the seventh and eighth (on a sacrifice by Williams and a nice triple by Grimes, who was brought in by Roberts). Final result – another Snapper win which, if it was not nearly as pretty as last night’s game (four errors on Beloit), still resulted in another coupon for free custard at Culver’s. You do have to credit the Snappers organization for trying to make the experience as fan-friendly as possible. A couple of new promotions during the game, of which the highlight was watching a young girl standing on the field holding a french fry basket trying to catch rubber chickens tossed by a Beloit staffer in order to win a gift certificate. After all three chickens are tossed (and missed), they give her one more chance and this time, although it also goes awry, it mysteriously ends up in the basket anyway (perhaps the presence of another staffer standing next to the girl explains it) and the young child goes home happy. I was glad to see the manager mix up the lineup tonight. It allowed me to see all the Snappers position players during this two-game stretch, and that’s a part of why I am doing this trip – to see as many of the up-and-coming potential Twins as I can. Next stop: Elizabethton, Sat. & Sun. *Note: I will not be blogging my travel days

After spending a relaxing day in the Janesville/Beloit area (went to see Cave of the Mounds and did some hiking at some local parks), I headed out to the ballpark again a touch earlier this evening. Had to stop at the Culver’s in Beloit to get my free dish of custard for last night’s win. Getting to the ballpark I have time today to walk around a little bit and see what’s there. One main concession stand right near the main entrance (operating at half capacity, and which I did utilize late in the game, during the eighth inning when they announced $1 hot dogs while supplies lasted) and two other stands near the ends of either bleacher (one is actually a small bbq place which I would have tried if I hadn’t eaten at Culver’s earlier). There are a few games for the kids, including the ubiquitous trampoline tent, but not a whole lot. I walk past the poster advertising the Prince Fielder Bobble-arm night coming up in about a week (he is decked out in a Snapper uniform, of course), and stop to see how fast I could throw a baseball at a stand near the main entrance. My (long dormant) dreams of a miracle mid-age career (ala The Rookie) finally gasp their last breath and die as I realize that my 60mph fastball probably won’t be good enough to make it, even if I do have lousy location. There aren’t quite as many fans in the stands this night (500-something compared to 800+ the night before), and it is a good mix of families with small kids, a few average folk like me, a good share of senior citizens (including one woman who looks to be in her late eighties but who can still get around good and is ringing a teacher’s school bell she has brought whenever the Snappers do something right). Unlike Target Field, only a handful are wearing apparel that sport team colors or insignia. Those that do are about evenly divided between the Twins and the Snappers (with the Green Bay Packers easily taking third place!) No live singer tonight; the anthem is organ music (live or canned I couldn’t tell). I’ve sometimes had people tell me you can tell a lot about how the game is going to go by the first pitch. For the first few innings that would-be aphorism seems to hold. Taylor Rogers gets the game off with a strike (the first of many he threw as he struck out five in his five innings of work and not often falling behind in the count) and basically shuts down Kane County for the first four innings. Meanwhile, for the Cougars, the first pitch hit the lead-off batter (Nate Roberts) and starts a three-run first inning, the highlight of which was a long shot from Miguel Sano over the left-center fence. The fielder never even moved. It is the first of two key hits Sano would have, driving in the first five Snapper runs. The Snappers added three more the next few innings and by the end of the fourth this is starting to feel like a rout. As so often happens in baseball, however, the momentum shifts. Rogers begins to struggle in the fifth giving up three hits which, combined with two infield errors (Sano & Rosario) allow the Cougars to climb back to within one (6-5). Atherton comes in to pitch 1+ innings but is pulled in the seventh for Melotakis after a base hit and error on a pick-off attempt leaves a runner on third with two out. Melotakis gives up two consecutive singles and the game is tied. Fortunately, he does no futher real damage and Zach Jones enters in the eighth and gets the last five outs (including 3 K). The Snappers had managed to scrape up solo runs in the seventh and eighth (on a sacrifice by Williams and a nice triple by Grimes, who was brought in by Roberts). Final result – another Snapper win which, if it was not nearly as pretty as last night’s game (four errors on Beloit), still resulted in another coupon for free custard at Culver’s. You do have to credit the Snappers organization for trying to make the experience as fan-friendly as possible. A couple of new promotions during the game, of which the highlight was watching a young girl standing on the field holding a french fry basket trying to catch rubber chickens tossed by a Beloit staffer in order to win a gift certificate. After all three chickens are tossed (and missed), they give her one more chance and this time, although it also goes awry, it mysteriously ends up in the basket anyway (perhaps the presence of another staffer standing next to the girl explains it) and the young child goes home happy. I was glad to see the manager mix up the lineup tonight. It allowed me to see all the Snappers position players during this two-game stretch, and that’s a part of why I am doing this trip – to see as many of the up-and-coming potential Twins as I can. Next stop: Elizabethton, Sat. & Sun. *Note: I will not be blogging my travel days

I got to the stadium around 6:30pm, waited in line to get my ticket (box seat - $9.00), and entered the gates. Almost immediately I had to adjust my stride as I almost walked into one of the Kane County players. The dressing rooms are away from the field, so the players have to walk through the main concourse to get to the dugouts. It immediately drove home to me just how different minor league baseball is at this level from the majors (imagine walking into Target Field on game day and bumping into Joe Mauer or Justin Morneau!) The stadium itself is small, one main covered stand, a couple of bleachers on either end for general admission ($7.00). Another example of how baseball is different at this level from The Show. My seat is in the front row, almost dead center behind homeplate; you feel like you can reach out and touch the players. I was surprised to learn it was dollar day (one of their promotions) so my hot dog and small soda only cost $1.00 each. That being said, it wasn’t much of a hot dog – the dollar dogs at Target Field look like banquets in comparison. Setting up my scorecard requires listening to the pregame anouncement and writing quickly, as there is no place on the scoreboard for the lineups. The anthem is sung by a young gentleman who has a nice voice but just barely avoids a Robert Goulet moment, at one point stopping completely until the words come back to him. Nobody seems to mind, though. The Snappers take the field, the opposing batter steps up, and the game is on. The game starts well for Beloit. David Hurlbut is sharp and basically holds the Cougars in check for seven full innings, with only a small scare in the sixth. The Snappers take advantage. After leaving the bases loaded in the first inning (on three walks from the Royals top draft pick), the bottom of the second blows it open. Wickens opens with a single (which is originally ruled as an error on the third baseman but subsequently changed), Rodriguez follows with another, Pettersen moves the runners up with a nice sacrifice, and then three straight hits from Roberts, Lin & Rosario begin to put the game out of reach early. It is especially nice to see Rosario (the DH in his return to the Beloit lineup) hit a solid single to center, which the fielder misplays, allowing it to go to the wall and resulting in two runs across and Rosario on third. Sano (who was 0-for-1 on the day but was walked three times and who looked mostly solid on defense) brings him in with a sacrifice to right, and Kennys Vargas hits a shot straight over the center field wall, the deepest part of the field (380ft), that the fielder can only turn to watch. After that inning the game cruised by quickly. The reliever the Cougars brought in after the debacle of the second was effective for three innings. Then, in the bottom of the sixth, AJ Pettersen starts a string of four consecutive hits that ends up in two more coming across and an 8-0 lead. Hurlbut starts to noticeably tire in the eighth inning, giving up two solid doubles for the Cougars first run, but with an eight-run cushion I am not surprised to see him come out for the ninth, and I applaud the Beloit manager (Nelson Prada) for giving him the chance. I couldn’t help but think of a Blylevenism, of finishing his own game and not needing a bullpen. Still, it is clear he has lost his stuff. He continues to get hit hard in the ninth, until finally with another run in and two more in scoring position, Prada makes the move. Baxendale comes in and promptly gives up two hits before getting the final out. It was an anti-climactic way to finish the game, but rest assured the Snappers fans still went home happy. With a home victory and seven or more runs scored, everyone is given a coupon for a free dish of custard from the local Culver’s, good for one week. Like most minor league games, this one had it’s share of gimmicks, promotions, and contests. The two most unusual were the hog-calling contest (Soooooo-eeeeeyy!), and the barrel-rolling contest, where two kids have to roll a (presumably) empty beer keg from start to finish, to see who finishes first. I was a bit surprised to see kids rolling kegs, but then I remembered that this is, after all, Wisconsin, the state that leads the nation in beer consumption per capita. And so day one ends. A nice easy drive down from the Twin Cities to a motel in Janesville, a fun game in a congenial atmosphere on a pleasant summer evening. I don’t know how the rest of this trip is going to turn out, as I visit all of the Twins affiliates in their home parks, but at least it has started well. Can’t wait for tonight’s game.

I got to the stadium around 6:30pm, waited in line to get my ticket (box seat - $9.00), and entered the gates. Almost immediately I had to adjust my stride as I almost walked into one of the Kane County players. The dressing rooms are away from the field, so the players have to walk through the main concourse to get to the dugouts. It immediately drove home to me just how different minor league baseball is at this level from the majors (imagine walking into Target Field on game day and bumping into Joe Mauer or Justin Morneau!) The stadium itself is small, one main covered stand, a couple of bleachers on either end for general admission ($7.00). Another example of how baseball is different at this level from The Show. My seat is in the front row, almost dead center behind homeplate; you feel like you can reach out and touch the players. I was surprised to learn it was dollar day (one of their promotions) so my hot dog and small soda only cost $1.00 each. That being said, it wasn’t much of a hot dog – the dollar dogs at Target Field look like banquets in comparison. Setting up my scorecard requires listening to the pregame anouncement and writing quickly, as there is no place on the scoreboard for the lineups. The anthem is sung by a young gentleman who has a nice voice but just barely avoids a Robert Goulet moment, at one point stopping completely until the words come back to him. Nobody seems to mind, though. The Snappers take the field, the opposing batter steps up, and the game is on. The game starts well for Beloit. David Hurlbut is sharp and basically holds the Cougars in check for seven full innings, with only a small scare in the sixth. The Snappers take advantage. After leaving the bases loaded in the first inning (on three walks from the Royals top draft pick), the bottom of the second blows it open. Wickens opens with a single (which is originally ruled as an error on the third baseman but subsequently changed), Rodriguez follows with another, Pettersen moves the runners up with a nice sacrifice, and then three straight hits from Roberts, Lin & Rosario begin to put the game out of reach early. It is especially nice to see Rosario (the DH in his return to the Beloit lineup) hit a solid single to center, which the fielder misplays, allowing it to go to the wall and resulting in two runs across and Rosario on third. Sano (who was 0-for-1 on the day but was walked three times and who looked mostly solid on defense) brings him in with a sacrifice to right, and Kennys Vargas hits a shot straight over the center field wall, the deepest part of the field (380ft), that the fielder can only turn to watch. After that inning the game cruised by quickly. The reliever the Cougars brought in after the debacle of the second was effective for three innings. Then, in the bottom of the sixth, AJ Pettersen starts a string of four consecutive hits that ends up in two more coming across and an 8-0 lead. Hurlbut starts to noticeably tire in the eighth inning, giving up two solid doubles for the Cougars first run, but with an eight-run cushion I am not surprised to see him come out for the ninth, and I applaud the Beloit manager (Nelson Prada) for giving him the chance. I couldn’t help but think of a Blylevenism, of finishing his own game and not needing a bullpen. Still, it is clear he has lost his stuff. He continues to get hit hard in the ninth, until finally with another run in and two more in scoring position, Prada makes the move. Baxendale comes in and promptly gives up two hits before getting the final out. It was an anti-climactic way to finish the game, but rest assured the Snappers fans still went home happy. With a home victory and seven or more runs scored, everyone is given a coupon for a free dish of custard from the local Culver’s, good for one week. Like most minor league games, this one had it’s share of gimmicks, promotions, and contests. The two most unusual were the hog-calling contest (Soooooo-eeeeeyy!), and the barrel-rolling contest, where two kids have to roll a (presumably) empty beer keg from start to finish, to see who finishes first. I was a bit surprised to see kids rolling kegs, but then I remembered that this is, after all, Wisconsin, the state that leads the nation in beer consumption per capita. And so day one ends. A nice easy drive down from the Twin Cities to a motel in Janesville, a fun game in a congenial atmosphere on a pleasant summer evening. I don’t know how the rest of this trip is going to turn out, as I visit all of the Twins affiliates in their home parks, but at least it has started well. Can’t wait for tonight’s game.