Where have you gone Joe DiMaggio? Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you. Woo, woo, woo…

That I am a lover of nostalgia, has been well established by now. And if my sentimentality is not enough to turn your stomach, let me add my love of “authenticity” to the list of pretensions.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, the trend for the past 20 years has been an increasing “corporatization” of minor league baseball. One by one the old wooden, small town ball parks have been disappearing, as MLB pulls their affiliates into larger markets and looks to squeeze as much cash as they can out of their farm system. I understand that the economics of minor league baseball have changed irrevocably. The romantic day’s of long bus rides to Podunkville, and cold showers are things of the past, and today’s prospects are treated far better than pro’s were 40, or 50 years ago. However, I really am having a hard time accepting the heavy handed MLB branding initiatives that are going on behind the scenes in the minor leagues.

Here’s a link to the only site that I can find that gives a comprehensive overview of the problem.

I don’t think I am being a conspiracy nut about this, but as you look at these different caps & logo designs it’s apparent that there is just a small handful of design templates, and one MLB appointed graphic design firm at work here.

Compare the artwork in the following three logos. I call this template, the “Ginormous Mascot with Club” design

Clinton Lumberkings

Lake County Captains

Trenton Thunder

Then there is the “Mascot Peeking Through Initials” design template:

My Beloved Muckdogs

Binghampton Bees / Mets

Greensboro Grasshoppers

Finally, we have the most egregious of the designs. “The Anthropomorphic Cap”

Lake Elsinore Storm

Orem Owls

Lehigh Valley Iron Pigs

This last one is enough to give me feverish nightmares of the Amityville Horror.

I am happy to see that Minor League Clubs have begun to drop the practice of copying their MLB affiliates nicknames, and I applaud their attempts to somehow link the club to the uniqueness of the local community by choosing nicknames that somehow connect to the history of the area. However, the heavy handed, generic, corporate approach makes me want to retch. Do they think we are that stupid? Do they think we don’t notice, or care? Do they think we will be good little consumers and lap up whatever mass produced corporate pabulum they spew our way?

Apparently yes. The “Disneyfication” of Minor League Baseball is getting out of hand. Honestly, they are straining so hard to look “cute” and “marketable” it’s hard to take them seriously. If I were a player I would be embarrassed to wear any of these caps. Not even for ironic purposes, which as a Gen-xer, is firmly established to be the end all, be all of fashion statements (Case in point, in 2003 the AAA farm club of the Dodgers, in Albuquerque New Mexico nicknamed themselves the “Isotopes” after the fictional Springfield Isotopes from the TV show The Simpson’s, and experienced a huge increase in merchandise sales.)

Personally, I think the “Poochies” would have been more appropriate.

The Itchy, Scratchy, and Poochie Show!

If MLB really wants to tie the teams to their communities, why can’t they let each organization choose it’s own name, its own logo, and its own look? Wouldn’t it be wiser to allow each team to contract with local graphic artists, and ad agencies to develop their own image instead of using a centralized, corporate overlord from MLB to squeeze them all through the sausage maker of MLB dictated branding guidelines? I think going with local control over branding would allow the teams to forge closer ties to local companies, who will become sponsors, and advertisers, and marketing partners in the community. The result would be not only better looking business, but better business.

I know, all of American life has become mass produced, franchised, and Walmarted into anonymity. You can drive from coast to coast eating at the same restaurant, sleeping in the same motel, and getting gas at the same gas station, so why should we expect anything different?

Sigh… There’s nothing wrong with a simple letter on a cap. It’s worked for over a hundred years, and it will likely work for a hundred more.

Play ball!

“And is there anything that can tell more about an American summer than, say, the smell of the wooden bleachers in a small town baseball park, that resinous, sultry, and exciting smell of old dry wood.” – Letter from Thomas Wolfe to Arthur Mann

link to letter here

Summer continues to be a fickle mistress here in Minnesota, placing hot steamy kisses on our lips one day, then disappearing for weeks without so much as a phone call. Following our 103 degree day, we’ve had nothing but sweatshirt weather. I like sweatshirts. In fact, about 30% of my wardrobe is composed of nothing but old sweatshirts, but it’s time for summer. It’s kinda sad seeing parents huddle under blankets at our little league games. Baseball is supposed to be a hot weather sport. A sport for fanning yourself with a program, and sipping a cold beer. A sport that is as much a part of summer, as the mosquito.

One of the most integral parts of childhood in Batavia was our minor league baseball team.  From age 3 to 20, no summer would have been complete without at least one trip to a baseball game. When I was growing up the team played in an old wooden stadium about a mile from my house. When I was little my Mom and Dad would walk to the games with me. I can remember being 5 years old, eating peanuts with my Dad, and watching the game from the old wood grandstand. I couldn’t crack the shells myself, so I would just eat them shell and all. The crowd would stamp their feet on the floor boards during a Batavia rally, the chicken wire backstop would shake, and dust would settle down from the rafters.

June bugs would  swarm the transformers on the light poles, drawn by the heat and glow of the mercury vapor lights, as the sun set over the left field fence. Dad would buy a program for 50 cents, and I would wait for the drawings to be announced between innings, hoping that I’d be the lucky kid to win a baseball, or free ice cream at the Dairy Queen. More often than not, it was a free car wash, or something of much less value to a 5 year old boy.

The homes on either side of 20 Prospect were owned by elderly women who belonged to a time of doilies and fringed lampshades. Born near the turn of the century they had raised their families, and buried their husbands long before we moved onto the street. Their large four square homes had more room than they needed, and in the summer they would lend out their spare rooms to the ball players.

Being just a short season Class A team, the players on the club were just kids of 19, 20, or 21, who were starting late after finishing up high school, or college ball, catching on to a minor league club after going late in the amateur draft. In the 70 year history of the club, there have been only a few big names to come through our little town. But growing up these kids were big leaguers to us. They were young, and muscular, and carried exotic names, accents, and skintones onto our little street. We’d see them in the early afternoon, walking down the street from the corner store with a Pepsi, and some chips on their way to the ball park for a game, and we’d pause from our games to watch them go by.

1981 Batavia Trojans

In those days before cable TV super-stations, professional baseball was something you either saw in person, or watched on Saturday afternoons. To little kids like us the distance between Dwyer Stadium, and Yankee Stadium was hard to understand. We knew that these players had a long way to go before they’d play in the major leagues, but we had no concept of what long odds they faced.

On the annual kids night, the stadium would be overrun with hordes of wild children. But except for a few nights when I went with my little league team, I always had to sit with my folks. I didn’t mind. They let me pick the seats in the last row of the grand stand where we could look back to watch foul balls hit the cars in the parking lot. Whenever a foul made it out of the park, which was almost every foul ball in Dwyer, a scrum of pre teens would go scrambling after it. Some nights the action in the parking lot was more entertaining than the game, as long haired “Jackie Earle Haley” types on ten speeds tried to impress the Farrah Fawcett haired girls in knee high tube socks and short-shorts.

The team rarely won during those year’s. They were the woeful Class A affiliate, of the woeful Cleveland Indians, and wins were few and far between. The stands and the field were in tough shape back then. Gaps in the plywood outfield fence would let balls through for ground rule doubles.

 

Old Dwyer Stadium – 1998

As I got older, the games became a regular hangout for me and my friends, as well as half the kids in town. (The other half were presumably hanging out in the Pizza Hut parking lot, or drinking at the end of a dirt road somewhere.)

 

 

The Old Wooden Grandstand

In the 80’s the team lost the Cleveland affiliation and came close to folding. They reverted back to an independent organization for a few years and struggled on. When the Trojan Manufacturing Company was sold to a German conglomerate the club dropped the “Trojans” nickname, to the chagrin of teenage boys. They resurrected the Clippers name from the early days when the team was sponsored by the Massey-Harris Company whose factory on Harvester Avenue was the city’s prime employer. By the 1990’s they landed the Philadelphia Phillies affiliation, and their prospects began to improve, both literally and figuratively.

But when Major League Baseball put strict new regulations into place regarding the dimensions and amenities that would be required to maintain minor league affiliation, the clubs days seemed numbered again. Miraculously, local government came through and secured state funding to tear down the old wooden stands, and replace them with a concrete and brick park, with a brand new field and clubhouse.

The new ball park

 

The New Dwyer Stadium

They changed their name to the Muckdogs for reasons that are still hotly debated around town, and the team survived. Not every New York Penn league town was so lucky. At some point in the last 20 years, the costs of running a minor league club, even a Class A one, have soared, and one by one the small upstate towns like Geneva, Elmira, Oneonta, and Olean have seen their clubs move on to bigger cities with deeper pockets.

Despite losing money for years the club has somehow managed to hang on. Who knows how much longer they will last, but for now the crack of wood bats will still be heard on the corner of Denio and Bank. Teenagers will still flit like sparrows through the parking lot in mating rituals as old as the game itself, and for the cronies on the First base line, the peanuts will taste as salty, and the Genny as cold as it always has. Blocks away on Prospect avenue, people will sit on their porches in the flickering light of citronella candles, while the far away sounds of the PA mixes with the soft buzz of mosquitoes.

Welcome home summer. Welcome home.

Not with a bang, but a whimper…

Sigh… they put on a heck of a show, but the Muckdogs bowed out of the playoffs Thursday night in what is most likely the last NY Penn League game to be played at Dwyer Stadium.

Thanks for the memories boys! 71 years was far too short of a time to spend together.

R.I.P. Muckdogs

More Muckdog news…

For long time readers… more info on the future of Muckdog baseball in Batavia here at the Daily News. It’s not looking good.

My thoughts about the situation have already been shared, so I won’t repeat them. Here’s a link to them if you are interested.

For Sale: One Class A Short Season Minor League Baseball Club

The 1981 Batavia Trojans

Daddy Warbucks, if you’re out there, this would be a good time to come forward and save the day.

Or perhaps this would be the point in the movie when Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland would give a rousing speech and rally the citizens of Genesee County to pool their money and buy the club.

Or maybe the citizens of Bedford Falls will rush out in the snow to help out good ol’ George Bailey, and save the Building and Loan.

Alas, there is more depressing news on the Muckdogs Financial Situation as reported by WBTA. Link Here:

$6 Million Dollars is the estimated asking price, based on the recent sale of the NY Penn League Oneonta club. Hard to believe anyone with that kind of scratch is going to keep the ‘Dogs in B-town instead of looking for a bigger market somewhere else.

Let’s face it, the Muckdogs attendance average of 1,100 is almost 10% of the population of Batavia. The Triple-A Rochester Red Wings by contrast, draw an average of 6,900 per game from a city of 220,000 people, (1 Million if you throw in the surrounding communities). The Muckdogs NY Penn league rivals the Brooklyn Cyclones drew 7,300 per game in 2008 in the Megalopolis of Brooklyn fer cryin’ out loud.

Think about that for a minute. A Class A short season team in a Giant Metro area can outdraw a Triple A franchise in a Regional Metro Area. You don’t need a Harvard MBA to figure out that it’s the size of the market, not the quality of the ball club that determines profitability in Minor League Baseball.

When you consider the attendance figures of Rochester, and Brooklyn, the numbers for the Muckdogs actually seem impressive for a city of 15,000 people. In fact, if I could pull the attendance figures for the last 30 years of Batavia baseball, I’d be willing to bet that they draw more people in 2010 than they have in 90% of their seasons since the 1970’s. Despite the spin from Rochester Community Baseball, and St. Louis Cardinals organization, it’s not a lack of community support that is killing the team, but the ballooning operating costs that Minor League Baseball clubs have incurred since the MiLB Baseball’s Facilities Standards went into effect in 1991.

Of course, MLB Incorporated doesn’t want to sell that message. Better to blame the citizens that stand to lose the franchise they supported since 1939, than highlight the insatiable need to grow the profit margins of MLB Inc.

Look, I’m a businessman. I understand the economics of it, but it still makes me sick. So I say “to hell with them” Batavia. You deserve better. I know the good folks of GCBC would keep the club in Batavia if they could, but they can’t and it isn’t your fault. Don’t let them lay the guilt on your heads. You put up a good fight, and spent countless summer evenings in that dusty wooden grandstand supporting a bunch of ball playing kids from all over America, and the Caribbean. Year in and year out, you were there, buying 50/50 club raffle tickets, peanuts, and cold cups of Genesee Beer, living out the lives of small town American’s that we so claim to love, and cherish. You were there.

It wasn’t these folks in the first baseline bleacher seats when Bernardo Brito jacked a homerun into the City Pool. It was guys like Russ Salway that were there, stomping their feet in the bottom of the ninth, with the winning run at the plate, until the dust from the rafters rained down on their heads. The Muckdogs are Batavia’s team. Not a trademarked property of MiLB.

The old Dwyer

So when some businessman from Hamilton, or Missasauga, buys the club and moves them to Canada (bad stuff in Batavia is always the fault of Canadians) and renames them the “Tim Horton’s” or “Butler’s Rangers”, don’t hang your head. Baseball in Batavia will live on so long as there is a ball, and a bat and nine guys willing to play the game on the corner of Denio and Bank Street. The dark forces of Corporatization can take your affiliation away, and sell it to the highest bidder, but they can’t take away your soul.

(But the Lord knows they would if they could.)

Bury My Heart at Dwyer Stadium

Ahem… sorry about that screed. Whew! Glad I vented that one.

Now, in all seriousness, and sobriety, I do wonder what will happen if GCBC sells the team. GCBC is a non-profit set up to own and operate the Muckdogs. If the team does indeed sell for $6 Million, they will net around $5 Million of that with the remainder going to Rochester Community Baseball. Even when the debts are paid off, they will still be holding a nice size chunk of dough. What the heck do they do with it?

Personally, I think the best option for GCBC is to pursue a team in the NY Collegiate Baseball League, as I mention here. But will College Summer baseball eventually fall prey to the same economics that Minor League baseball has?

My investigation of the Northwoods League suggest that local interest can be satisfied by the quality and competitiveness of College Summer baseball, and the economics of the amateur game are still amenable to small town teams like Batavia. Hell, with MiLB abandoning the Muckdog trademark, GCBC could even step in and buy the rights to the name and logo and continue to call the team the Muckdogs if they wanted.

So, there may be a silver lining in this cloud after all. In the long run if high level amateur baseball can take root in Batavia I think the community would be much better served. Now the trick is to make it happen.

This can’t be good…

After posting about the possibilities of life after Muckdog baseball, I had an email conversation with Ray from the Batavia Daily News. We were theorizing on what might happen, if and when the team was sold. I had read on a Cardinal’s blog back in January, and again last Friday that for each year that Rochester Community Baseball operates the club, they gain a 5% share in the team if it is sold by the Genesee County Baseball Club. (owners of the team). This being the 3rd (and final) year of the agreement with the Red Wings parent organization, their share would amount to 15%. At an estimated value of $3-5 million, a sale would just about offset the half million in operating losses incurred in the 3 years of operation.

I began to wonder who & or what the “Genesee County Baseball Club” is exactly. I assume it is a non-profit set up to operate the team. So I decided to put my “mad googling skillz” to work. Low and behold, I stumbled across something that cannot be a good sign. The Genesee County Baseball Club Inc. canceled their trademark registration of the Muckdog logo on July 17th. Now, the Muckdog logo, as I mentioned before, has been one of the few money makers for the team. By licensing this trademark image to Little Leagues across America, the team has been able to create a revenue stream beyond gate receipts. So the news that they would cancel the trademark, is alarming indeed.

Here’s the link to trademark news

No Longer Trademarked

Now before I jump to conclusions here, I do have to point out that just because the Trademark is no longer registered, it does not mean that the club has no right to the logo. By using the logo, and marking it with the little “TM” the club would still retain common law rights to the use of the logo, and stop others from using it. Another possibility is that the mark may have been applied for again in a separate application, or is being changed in some way. (changes would have to be covered by a new application). Further research beyond the means of this humble blogger is required to determine whether this mark is truly abandoned in commerce. How ’bout it news guys? Can you pick up the trail from here?

Life after the Muckdogs?

OK, yeah, I know I said I was on hiatus, but I have been thinking about the pending move of the Muckdogs out of Batavia and what the future might hold. So I felt the need to post on it, since I have already posted several times on the subject.

Judging from the tone of some of the recent articles, and interviews with the staff of the Red Wings who are currently operating the ‘Dogs, it is becoming apparent that the Muckdog’s days are numbered. The trend within Minor League baseball has been to move small, Class A affiliates out of small towns and rural areas, and put them in suburbs of larger urban areas to reach a larger fanbase, sell more tickets, and consequently make more money. This trend began back in the 90’s when MLB placed new requirements on the minor league clubs that their stadiums meet certain minimum specs. The result of the rule was that many of the clubs in smaller towns were forced to either rebuild their stadiums, or move to an area with newer facilities. For a lot of these small towns the $ required to build new parks were just not feasible. Meanwhile, other towns scrambled to update their stadiums to keep their teams. (Batavia and Auburn are two examples of rebuilt stadiums from this time).

Out with the old...

In with the new.

As the years have progressed, the costs of owning and operating a minor league club have risen to the point that the small NY Penn league teams have struggled to keep their head above water. Gradually MLB woke up to the possibilities of milking more $$ out of their minor league system. The result has been a steady “corporatization” of minor league ball that has driven up the interest in owning and operating minor league clubs. This demand for minor league teams has resulted in the sale and move of many of the remaining small town teams. Last year it was Oneonta club that was sold and relocated to suburban Connecticut. Batavia seems to be the next in line with Auburn not far behind.

I have lamented this corporatization before, but in the last year have come to grudging acceptance of the fate. Economic trends like this do not change quickly. They move in like a tide, and recede only gradually. I can’t foresee it changing. The Muckdogs will be moved, this year, or next, or the year after. It is inevitable. So I began to think, what would life be like after the Muckdogs? Would Dwyer Stadium sit vacant, hosting only high school, and community college baseball, or is there future life in it yet? It’s a wonderful little facility, and it would be a shame to see a community asset like that go to waste. So I decided to do some investigation, and see what has become of the other towns that were once a part of the NY Penn league, but have lost their teams through the years.

So what has become of Oneonta, Geneva, Niagara Falls, Elmira, Little Falls, Watertown, Hornell, and the other 12 cities that once were home to NY Penn league franchises. The result surprised me. The New York Collegiate Baseball League has been around since 1978. (Who knew?) It is a summer wood bat league for collegiate baseball players to get a feel for the demands and style of minor league baseball while maintaining their amateur status. There are actually quite a few of these leagues in existence.

Perhaps it shouldn’t have surprised me. Collegiate Summer baseball is about the only “minor” league baseball left in Minnesota and Wisconsin, aside from the Independent St. Paul Saints. Such classic minor league stadiums and cities as Eau Claire, Wisconsin have hosted Collegiate Summer teams in the Northwoods League since the mid 90’s. Collegiate Summer baseball has grown to fill in the void left by Minor League Baseball as the farm clubs have moved out of small cities and towns in rural areas as the operating costs of running a team are lower. Attendance seems to fall into the Mouckdog average of 1,400 / game, for communities of similar size. The quality of the baseball is surprisingly good, and many of the players in the Northwoods League have gone on to the majors.

So, will Batavia follow in the footsteps of Oneonta, Geneva, Niagara Falls, Elmira, Little Falls, Watertown, and Hornell, and make the jump from the NY Penn to the NYCBL? It’s an interesting thought, and an idea that excites me the more I think about it. Is there an ownership group out there that would step forward to bankroll the startup of a team? Could Batavia pull it off without missing a season? I see no reason why we couldn’t. B-town is every bit as capable of supporting a team as any of the towns mentioned above. Heck, Batavia is even more capable as it brings with it a more modern, and up to date facility than many of the towns that have NYCBL clubs.

Best of all, it wouldn’t take a million dollars to make it happen. Anyone out there willing to go in on putting an ownership group together drop me a line. I’m in.

If I had a Million Dollars…

I’m sure it would probably take more than a million even, but if I bought a winning lottery ticket tomorrow, by Friday I would be buying the Muckdogs. Sadly, that’s about all that might save the team at this point. Seeing baseball leave one of the last remaining NY Penn league towns for some metropolitan suburb on the east coast would be hard enough. Watching the Muckdogs leave will just make another little part of old Batavia die.

Article here in the Webster Post, h/t Russ Salway.

Field of Dreams

Knee high by the Fourth of July

Hot damn. The weathermen meteorologists are calling for 90 and humid tomorrow. I can hear the corn growing, and the exposed flesh sizzling at the beach already. Classic 4^th of July weather. It is a little known fact that between the years 1970 and 1986, it was over 90 degrees, and humid every 4^th of July in Batavia, N.Y. Look it up!

Well, it seemed like it was anyway. Back in the days before central air conditioning was installed at 20 Prospect, (which is to say the entire time I lived there) we used to suffer like dogs through these sweltering days and nights. I would wake by 8 am in the back bedroom and already the temperature would be in the 80’s. The sun would be shining through the leaves of the maple tree, and flickering through the blades of the fan in the window. How we never lost a finger in the exposed blades of that old Westinghouse fan I have no idea.

While some folks headed to the beach, or the lake, we always seemed to spend the 4^th at home. It wasn’t that Dad didn’t enjoy the water. In fact, he loved swimming more than any of us. It’s just that his hatred for crowds and traffic far outweighed his love of the water. So while half of Western New York was enjoying the breezes off of Ontario, or Erie, or dipping their toes in a Finger Lake, we’d be sitting on the Front Porch, stuck to the floral print vinyl cushions of the glider, drinking powdered lemonade, and sweating it out. With the canopy of maples overhead, and the awnings lowered, the front porch was the coolest spot to be in the summer time. What breeze there was always blew from the front of the house, which made my back bedroom, with one old wooden framed window propped open for the fan, the hottest damn place in the house.

One thing that has not changed in the 30 years since that time is the plethora of American flags flying from the front porches of Batavia. Patriotism may wax and wane through the generations, but the denizens of Batavia always, ALWAYS, fly the flag proudly. The sight of all those stars and stripes, up and down the length of Prospect Avenue, swaying in the afternoon breeze can still be seen today.

When afternoon rolled around, we’d walk around the block to Centennial Park for the annual picnic in the park. Centennial was (and is) a park with nothing but grass, trees and a hill. Despite the plans at various times to add a bandstand, or picnic area, the neighborhood has always resisted “improvements”. So too this day the park remains the greenest, shadiest, loveliest place in town. In winter it was our sledding hill, in summer it was our ballpark, and it was a place to walk the dog the whole year around.

As scenes of Americana go, the annual picnic in the park is about as Norman Rockwell-esque as you can get. The Batavia Concert Band sets up a stage, people bring lawn chairs, there are clowns and face painting for the kids, and the ever present smell of roasting meat fills the air. It is the one and only time during the year that the sleepy, pastoral park is actually a hub of activity. People would come and go as the sun crept through the sky, until afternoon began to give way to evening. By then we’d be back home at 20 Prospect, chasing the shade around to the back yard, grilling hot dogs on the gas grill. Hot dogs were the only food that we ever ate from Memorial Day to Labor Day. Sahlen’s natural casing hot dog links, slathered with sweet relish and Weber’s Mustard was our dietary staple for the entire summer. Why I didn’t have cholesterol induced heart disease by age 12 I have no idea.

Wardynski's vs. Sahlen's; the debate continues... photo copyright buffalochow.com @ http://buffalochow.com/2008/01/on_wardynski_vs_sahlen_why_our.html

After dinner the entire populace of Batavia would make their way to McArthur Park. Once there they would either take a place on the hillside by the swimming pool, set up blankets on the bleachers of the little league field, or pay the $2.50 to get into the Trojans Clippers Muckdogs game, and spend the evening watching the sun sink into a blood red pool in the western sky, waiting for the coming fireworks. There were always fireworks. By the time the game ended it would be dark, and the June bugs and moths would be throwing themselves against the light standards in futile attempts at immolation. The lights would go out, and a cheer would go up from the crowd. Then the hollow “phoom” of a mortar launching a shell, followed by a “fzzzztt” as it ascended into the night sky, and exploded in a crackle of light.

Ooohhh…. Ahhh…..

The fireworks would continue for what seemed like an eternity, and still end too soon in a final burst of light and thunder. As the last embers disappeared on their way back down to earth, we would applaud, then fold up our blankets and begin the walk home. We always walked to the fireworks. Did I mention that Dad hated traffic?

Night would end the way the day began, stuck to the sheets, sweating in the back bedroom, dying for whatever little breeze the old Westinghouse fan could muster. Another summer night in small town America, a night that will be repeated again, and again, passed down through the generations, like an old family recipe.

Happy Birthday America.

Take me out to the ball game…

If you didn’t know me better you’d think all I do is go to baseball games. Well, I guess that has been the case lately. Friday was Little League night at the Twins game, and all of the District 2 little leagues (North Metro) showed up for a pre-game parade around the field, and to take in the ball game.

The ladies were on an overnight camping trip with the girl scouts, so 20 Prospect Jr. and I made the most of our guys night out. We left early to be there 2 hours before gametime so we could stand in the outfield bleachers and catch a ball during batting practice. I discovered that getting to the ballpark 2 -1/2 hours before gametime, parking isn’t really a problem. IO found a spot on the street 2 blocks away and didn’t have to pay a dime. (Yes, I’m getting old. The first thing I tell you about the game is what I paid to park)

We were the first in line.

One of the nice little touches at the ball park, the door handles are in the shape of Minnesota

We waited outside of the left field gate, hoping we’d be in quick enough to find some “Easter Eggs” in the bleachers. No luck.

As we watched the Twins taking B.P., drive after drive was going into left field, but we couldn’t get the outfielder to toss any our way. Delmon Young and Jason Kubel then started launching fly balls into the upper deck right above us. After 45 minutes the crowd was starting to get thick, and 20 Prospect Jr. was beginning to lose heart. Finally, a long drive into the corner, rattled around and came to a rest, and the player that picked it up tossed it his way.

He could not have been more thrilled. We could have gone home right then, and he would have been happy.

Mission Accomplished

We grabbed some Kramarczyk Polish Sausage and Kraut for dinner, and then met up with the Little Leaguers for the parade. I headed to our seats and the coaches took the kids down onto the field. The kids really had a blast walking around the warning track 20 minutes before gametime, as people cheered.

The little league teams came from all over the district, and it was interesting to see how the different towns have outfitted them. In our league all of the teams are named for a major league club, and have the MLB hat, but all wear T-shirt with the town name on the front in the colors of their club. Some towns give the kids t-shirts with the real MLB logos instead. And one league (Rosedale I think) eschews the MLB teams for a collection of creatively named Minor League clubs. And so I give you the Roseville Muckdogs!

Yes Toto, we're not in Batavia anymore...

I stopped and asked if I could take a picture and explained why the Muckdog name was significant. The Dad’s seemed genuinely interested to know the story behind the name. Minnesotan’s are just so gosh darned nice! Sorry for the Zapruder like photo, I was using the cell phone camera, and carrying a Polish Sausage at the time.

Our seats were 3 rows from the top of the upper deck. And let me tell you, it’s a ways up there. The upper deck is every bit as steep as I remember the orange seats in the Aud.

20 Prospect Jr. is no fan of heights, and when he got to the seat I could see he just wasn’t feeling too good. He looked pretty pale, and wouldn’t even lean forward to see the batter. So we left our seats at the end of the first inning and went walkabout.

The View from Section 319 as the kids are parading

One of the nice things about modern ballparks is the open concourses. On the lower level you can walk 360 degrees around the park and stop and look out at the game. The Twins have started selling standing room tickets, and I have to say there was still plenty of room for us to watch the game.

View from the concourse behind home plate

We moved around every inning, and took in the game from all angles. The best was standing in right center, just above the scoreboard. There are flat screen monitors on the underside of all of the upper decks, so even though you can’t see into the corner, you can catch all the action and the replays.

It was a great way to experience the ball park and really check the place out. After having stood in just about every section, 20 Prospect Jr. and I decided that we like being out in right field the best. The sightlines are great, and the sections are small enough you can step out to the bathroom or concessions and not miss much action.

And the game was fantastic. Francisco “F-Bomb” Lirano and Tim Hudson dueled to a 2-1 Twins victory. At one point Liriano struck out 7 batters in a row. The Twins were trailing the Braves 1-0 early, but rallied in the bottom of the seventh to score 2 runs, and John Rausch struck out the side in the top of the 9th for the save. It was my kind of game. I love watching great pitching, and it only took 2 hours and 6 minutes to play. Afterwards we were home in the garage in 20 minutes. That’s even hard to accomplish in Batavia!!