Scouts, Thieves, and IrritantsAnchorage Glacier Pilots vs. Mat-Su MinersJuly 11, 2006 Hermon Bros. Field @ the Alaska State Fairgrounds, Palmer, AK.The Chevy Tracker pulled up next to me in my minivan in the parking lot. After being on the road in Alaska for the last two days, this car stuck out because it was new. Every car and truck I saw previously had some sort of dent, ding, weather damage, or at least it had a sheen of dirt, mud, dead insects, or all of the above. This Tracker looked like it came straight form the lot. Glistening blue color with nary a scratch or smudge on it.
The passenger door opened and out jumped this kid in a Cub Scouts uniform. He was a little puffy boy with his cherub face and his paunch accentuated by the blue shirt and yellow kerchief. With his brown curly hair, he looked like a brunette version of the kid from
Bad Santa. He closed the car door and then froze. "Hey, mom..." he screeched, "I broke the new car door handle!" I looked at him and sure enough in his hand he held a door handle . How did the kid do that, I thought holding back laughter. His mother came to him and she was absolutely non-plussed by this. Taking the broken piece from him, she told him not to worry and that the car was already broke. She tidied him up a bit and then said, "Let's go get with your troupe, honey. Now, remember, be on your best behavior. It's Scout Night."
And thus began the second stop on my tour of ballparks in the Alaska Baseball League.
Hermon Bros. Field is located on the far end of the Alaska State Fairgrounds just on the outskirts of the city of Palmer. The Chugach Mountains come right up to the end of the gravel parking lot and lend their beauty. Alaska, if you've never been, is worth it just to see the mountains throughout the entire state. Hidden behind some trees and a cyclone fence was the entrance to the ballpark which had simple wooden shack for a ticket booth and a wooden plank above it exclaiming
Hermon Bros. Field, home of the Mat-Su Miners (Mat-Su is short for the Matanuska-Susitna Borough which houses the Matanuska Valley, Alaska's agricultural district). A bunch of kids in scout uniforms were there at the gate and a scoutmaster was handing out tickets. As I walked past, I couldn't help but try for some free tickets. "I was a scout in Pacifica, California from 1971 to 1974. Do I qualify?" The scoutmaster smiled but didn't know what to do. He was probably thinking he had enough tickets and if I had bothered to bring it up..."It's alright, sir. I'll buy my tickets. ", I assured him. Tickets were only five bucks and I'm not that cheap. He continued to smile as I went to the ticket window.
The entrance to the ballpark is most unusual. Normally when you enter a ballpark, it's either at home plate or anywhere near third or first base or all of the above. At Hermon Bros., you enter right at the center field wall and you have to walk the path either to the left or the right to get to the grandstands...and you can't see the field til you get past the outfield wall. Too far to walk? A man in a green and gold golf cart (the colors of the Miners, naturally) is there to give you a ride if you need it. He had two in the cart when he approached me. "Hop in, young fella.", he beckoned. I jumped in and got a lift to the grandstands.
The grandstand behind home plate are wooden and have real homey feel. These were the box seats and only season ticket holders could sit there (of course, i sat there for most of the game). Aluminum bleachers line the first and third base sides. Three wooden cabins are right behind the grandstand: the cabin on the first base side are the restrooms (no sanicans!), the home plate cabin is the concessions ($3 for a foot long hot dog, $1 for peanuts among some of the fare), and the third base cabin is for beer and souveniers (there is Budweiser and Corona in bottles for $3, but on tap is a local brewery's hefeweizen, porter, pale ale, and amber for $4...wonderful!).Bought a few beers and a shirt for a gift for someone back in the lower 48. The whole place was funky and had a charm about it. But what I couldn't get out of my mind was the rusted storage lockers and dead tractors and trucks that were all around the ballpark. A ballfield in a junkyard, I wrote in my notes. And yet those mountains just made this place look awesome. I struck up a conversation with the husband and wife team serving beers. I said I was touring the ABL parks and the gentleman brought up that he was writing a book on the golf courses of Alaska. "Are there many?", I asked. "No, but they are interesting.", he said leaving more to my imagination than anything (moose delay?). The lady asked how I liked their park. "Very unique." I nodded after a moment. "Well, we like it." she smiled. I hope I didn't offend.
Most of the 682 in attendance that night were indeed Boy Scouts, Webeloes, and Cub Scouts. The constant din of noise was present throughout the evening. The boys were silent only when they were on the field to lead the crowd in the Pledge of Allegiance and when the National Anthem was played (an
American Idol-esque singer on tape). Kids running around or congregating in medium to large sized groups were everywhere. I wondered if they cared about the game going on. If you wanted something from the concession stand, forget it. The line died down only after the seventh inning. No line for the beer cabin, though!
The Pilots and Miners were involved in a tight game up to the fourth inning. The pitching was fantastic: great control and nice fastballs. The Miners, as a matter fact, featured three pitchers from the NCAA champion Oregon State Beavers and the pitcher tonight was one of them, Daniel Turpen. I walked over by the Miners dugout, put my shirt on the ground, took pictures of the scenery, and watched a couple of innings there. I started talking to this gentleman in a Miners windbreaker and talked about being a Miners fan. "Just my speed," he beamed. I told him of my travels and where I was headed next. "You're going to Anchorage next? Never catch me doing that. I don't like the big city." I stifled my laugh. How would he feel about Seattle, Boston, New York?
After a moment, another gentleman approached us and got in the conversation. I was informed that this man was the general manager of the Miners, Pete Christopher. We shook hands and told him what a nice ballpark he had here. He said thanks but he kept looking around at the kids. He seemed a bit irritated. "The kids are in fine mode tonight." he said under his breath. He then looked at the field. "God, that is just ugly!" "What?", I asked. "The dead spots!" he said pointing to the field. I knew what he was talking about because it was the first thing I noticed when I saw the field. The all-grass field had big patches of dead grass throughout, both infield and outfield. He talked of how he resodded the field after last season to prepare for an Alaskan winter. But the winter was schizophrenic: a steady snowpack melted early, followed by rain, and then more snow. The inconcistency killed off some of the grass (apparently, once you get snow, the grass can deal with it but not snow-melt-rain-snow). Mr. Christopher sighed. "The price you pay for having a grass field in Alaska." All three of us then watched the inning as the Pilots scored three runs because the Miners couldn't cover a bunt. The players converged on the ball but when the player getting the ball turned to throw to the appropriate base, he found nobody there covering the base. This happened twice in the inning; the second resulted in the Pilot baserunner, seeing nobody covering third on a bunt and he coming from second, continued home just getting in before the late throw. Mr. Christopher ws not pleased by this. "They can't cover bunts?", he asked to no one. He then excused himself to get ready for a between-inning promotion. I shook his hand and wished him luck.
I then turned to retrieve my shirt and found that it was gone. "What?" I said to no one. "Somebody stole my shirt on SCOUT NIGHT!?!" I thought about all the slogans of the Scouts: honor,truthfull, be prepared...well, maybe not me, not now.I looked around to see if someone was trying on the XXL article of cl0thing and catch them red handed. Alas, no one was doing this. I went to the lost and found to see if some honorable kid did the right thing . "Some unfortunate soul misplaced his souvenier and I am doing the right thing to give it to you, nice lady in the Lost and Found booth." Yeah , right. No, they didn't have my shirt, either.
Well, I took that as a cue to be on my way. I meandered a bit aound the park til I got to the minivan. Despite my "loss" and the disbelief I felt of a Scout taking the shirt, it was still a nice experience. The crowd was very boisterous and the Miner experience is definitely their own. A nice night. The Pilots won the game, 4-1 and I notched another ballpark in my belt. I got back to my car and looked again at the Chevy Tracker with a busted right passenger door handle. That laugh came again, folowed by a nod, a shrug, and a need to move on.
A note here: If you want to follow up on this team and the adventures of the GM, Pete Christopher, look them up at matsuminers.org. They have a nice website and it was interesting to read Mr. Christopher's notes. They are nice people trying to run a club and it shows.
Add PeopleAthletes in Action Fire vs. Alaska GoldpannersJuly 9, 2oo6 Growden Memorial Park, Fairbanks, AK.Begin the tour of baseball ballparks in the state of Alaska!
Well, yeah, and visit in-laws too, but I could now visit the most well known summer collegiate baseball league in America, next to the Cape Cod League.The Alaska Baseball League. OK, yes, I am the only guy in my vast circle of friends that know there is summer collegiate baseball. Yes, I had to endure the sarcasm and snickers of people quizzing me, "You're going to Alaska to do what? Baseball in Alaska?" I even got that from the cousins living in and about the Anchorage area. Geeze.
But now all that was over. I arrived in Alaska two days before, borrowed a minivan from my cousin, John and his family, and on this Sunday drove the close to four hundred miles from Anchorage to Fairbanks to see my first game of my tour. I planned it, booked motels and tickets, thought about it all spring long, and now I was here.
And I stood there at the corner of 2nd and Wilbur in Fairbanks, the site of Growden Memorial Park and the home of the Alaska Goldpanners, and my first reaction was, "Dear lord, what a dump!"
From the outside and looking at the facility, it seemed to have no symmetry. A bombshelter-era grandstand stood at home plate and then everything was just tacked on from there. Wooden bleachers down the left field side, aluminum on the right. The bricks on the grandstand were painted a faded whit and atop the grandstand was weather-beaten sign, hand painted citing this as the home of the Goldpanners. Sanicans stood on the periphery of the facility, makeshift wooden booths served for tickets and concessions.
Inside the ballpark was alright. Good views of the Alaska Interior and the mountains in the distance but the field was one of those things I hate but know for some places is a necessary evil: grass outfiels and an artificial turf infield. Well, the area behind home plate spelled out "GOLDPANNERS". Ugly, but they do have spirit, I guess.
Now, if I seem like I am being too harsh, you are probably right. It must be awfully hard to run a facility in conditions where it is awfully warm in the summer (as a matter of fact, on this day it 85*...at 10:30 in the evening when the game ended) and frightfully cold in the winter. It's just that after being on the website and looking up the Goldpanners, I expected a franchise that really made a trip to the ballpark a wonderful event. The Goldpanners are considered the Yankees of the ABL and summer collegiate baseball. Just below the press box is painted all the years the Panners won ABL titles followed by their national titles (16 in total, I do believe). They are the oldest team in the league and their alumni boasts names such as Dave Winfield, Tom Seaver, and Barry Bonds, to name a few. So when I came to the ballpark, I was slightly disappointed. Good prices for everything from admission ($5) to cans of beer ($2 for 12 oz. can). I bought a couple of souvenir hats touting the 100th anniversary of the Midnight Sun Game (played on the day of the summer solstice) that were $10 a pop. Not bad, I just expected more.
And then the people came into the stands.
There was probably about 200-300 in the stands and each one was having a good time. Three people sitting down in the first base box seats were drinking beers and chanting stuff that we heard back when we were young. Chestnuts like "Pitcher's got a rubber arm!" or "Batter can't swing!". It was very refreshing to hear them especially in this day and age when harsher things are said. And they didn't wear out their welcome either. Their chants were nicely timed and spaced. Up in the right field bleachers were a whole section of guys and gals with kazoos (which were being sold at the souvenir stand for $2) and did cheers every now and then. But the big moment for them was in the 7th inning stretch. They don't play "Take me Out to the Ballgame" at Growden: a tape of the Beat Farmers' "Happy Boy" is played and the entire section stood up and sang, clapped, played kazoo. It was golden. Also, a shout out to the between-the-innings music selector. Live versions of Alice Cooper, Elvis Costello, and Steve Miller was played and it was sad when they had to fade it out when the game resumed. These songs were versions I had never heard before and it was capturing the bands at a good time. It was the personal touches that made it a very nice evening.
The Goldpanners won the game 7-2 on some excellent pitching and consistent hitting (the Panners had runners on base in every inning and had a 7-0 lead in the sixth) and I was glad to get the first game on my trip in the books. A little later, I was over at this saloon a few blocks away from the park when I noticed some of the right field section having some drinks. After it was noted that I wasn't from Fairbanks, a woman said that I didn't catch them on a good night. "Sometimes we get a little more boisterous. Then, it's really fun."
Hmmm. Maybe I better go back. Well, we'll see.
A correction from the staff...I was just reminded that in the previous entry, "Baseball...with Uncle Kevin", I mentioned the wrong town. The two of us went to the town of Edison and supped at the Edison Inn, not Everson. Everson is a little farther north and we went no where near there. My apologies to both towns and my thanks to Kev for pointing out my mistake. Also, please excuse the typing and spelling mistakes that pepper through all of my writings. I'm still figuring out this site and when I find the spell check, I'll be on it.
And thank you for reading.
pcs
Baseball on the Fourth of July....with my Uncle KevinEverett Merchants vs. Skagit EaglesJuly 3, 2006 Skagit Valley Dream Field Mount Vernon, WA.Aloha Knights vs. Bellingham BellsJuly 4, 2006 Joe Martin Field Bellingham, WA.All through the months of early 2006, I looked forward to the summer of this year when I planned on going on many road trips to baseball fields wherever I could find them. Majors, minors, collegiate...whatever. I was going. I would be on the internet for hours looking up schedules and leagues to see where and when I could cobble an itinerary. I had so many possible trips drawn up. The big trip would be Alaska in July: see the ballparks of the Alaska Baseball League and visit my in-laws throughout the state. When I would return in late July, trips whenever I felt like it. One-day trips, weekends, long term...sky was the limit.
The Fourth of July weekend came and I thought I could sneak in some collegiate games. As luck would have it, I could do a game in Mt. Vernon and another one in Bellingham. Nice little road trip to get me in the mode for Alaska and such. Booked a motel in Mt. Vernon and everything was golden. Baseball on the Fourth of July in small town America. Nice start, I thought.
The morning of July 3 was uneventful. No major packing or planning really had to be done: a change of clothes and some notebooks and that's it. Made sure the cats had plenty of food and water, car was gassed up. Game time in Mt. Vernon was 5:30 in the afternoon so I had plenty of time to get there.
And then the phone rang. My uncle, Kevin, was calling to see what I was doing for the holiday. I told him of my plans and that I was booked up. "Baseball in Mt. Vernon and Belligham? They have teams?", he asked. I told him of the leagues the towns belonged to (the Pacific International League and West Coast Collegiate Baseball League, repectively) and what I knew of their history. Kev was intrigued and asked if he could tag along. He thought it might be good to get out for a night away from his duties as husband, father, and grandfather. I hesitated for a bit. I felt like I just wanted to be by myself. Kev can sometimes get with you and change your plans, not that that is a bad thing. Well, what plans did I really have? As long as we made it to these ballparks for the game, that's all that mattered. And then I thought it would be great to have Kev's influence and input on the adventure. "Sure.", I said and plans were set to pick him up. This was going to be fun, we agreed.
We got on the road and my worries of Kev changing plans came out front and center. I said that I had reservations for a motel in Mt. Vernon. Kev suggested we break it and stay up in Bellingham. I told him that I had made the arrangements online and that I couldn't break it without forfeiting some money. "Pish posh..." Kev countered, or something to that effect. Kev then got on his cell phone, called up the motel, and said he was me and that someone in our family was sick and that I couldn't make it tonight. He said "thank you" and hung up. "All settled , Paul, and she mentioned nothing of you owing any money." Kev smiled. Well, OK. I wasn't married to the idea of Mt. Vernon anyway.
And then it dawned on me: Kevin lived in Mt. Vernon for two years when he was in high school. His father, my grandfather, bought and operated a laundry ther in the late sixties and he uprooted his family from Bainbridge Island to live there, much to my grandmother's and Kev's chagrin. "That's why you don't want to stay in Mt. Vernon, right? You hate the place." Kev laughed and concurred. He hates the town, hated his experience there, didn't much care for the people, etc. The trip up north was full of stories of the two years he lived there, how he loved the beauty of the land but yet how he couldn't wait to leave.The feeling he always had that the town was "dead end". Mt. Vernon is an agricultural town, then and now, and after coming from Bainbridge Island this type of living was not to my uncle's liking (then again, mine also). He even said that everytime he drives through the town when he is on I-5, he has to flip off the downtown area, which he did again when we entered. "Well, is it alright that we're going to a baseball game there?", I had to ask. "Oh, sure. But we will be leaving.", he said most assuredly.
So we headed to Skagit Valley Community College where Skagit Valley Dream Field was located.. I was a little wary of the "dream" in the name of the field. Is this a blatent attempt to cash in on the feelings of the movie and what baseball means even to those here in Skagit County, Washington? After a long walk from a parking lot and through a park, you enter the field and immediately realize the name. The Seattle Mariners and Boeing have a program called "Dream Fields" where they have spent money to upgrade alll kinds of baseball fields, from Little League to collegiate, and Skagit Valley was completed two years ago. A permanent sign in right field promotes the project and Boeing and the Mariners. The field has beautiful views of the North Cascades and the lush land around it. The ballpark had perfect grass and infield. It sort of looked out of place...what's a nice stadium like this doing at a community college? A nice concrete grandstand behind home plate. A hot, sunny late afternoon just augmented the feeling that this was good decision to come here.
The atmosphere at Dream Field is very laid back. The ticket and concession employees are teenagers who probaly wished they weren't there but were friendly. The concession were located in a small trailer with hot dogs on a rotisserie that were getting too black, red vines, peanuts, and tubs of drinks. The PA announcer was low key and gave you just enough information along with pleas for people to return foul balls (an army ten year-old boys were poised around the perimeter of the park...apparently a foul ball gets you a free item from the concession stand...make out like a bandit, those kids). Picnic tables lined the outfield lines and the one thing that really grabbed me, especially in this day and age, was there were no lights in the park (old time baseball, indeed).
The crowd was very silent and numbered about sixty or so. Most were scouts, parents, or girlfriends. No one cheering or yelling for either team. The feeling was of encouragement for all to do well. It was perfect to hear the sounds of the game. We could hear the umpires very clearly and the coaches barking instructions. The game itself was a wonderful chess match as Skagit took an early 2-0 lead and then Everett scored once in the eighth and again in the ninth to tie the game and it remained that way into the tenth when Kev and I decided to leave (the darkness was also approaching and the game was probably going to be called soon anyway...uh, huh: and then I found out Skagit won the game in the bottom of the tenth...when will I ever learn not to leave a game before it is over? probably never...).
We were both very hungry and, thanks to Kevin, we had to find a place to stay. A great place to watch a game, this Skagit Dream Field, and a good experience. Now, on the road to Bellingham.
Rather than go I-5 up, we ventured up north via Chuckanut Drive. If you are ever up in northwestern Washington, you should take this drive. It starts off cutting through farmland and the pushes into the Samish Mountains and then hugs along the coastline of Chuckanut Bay. Wonderful views of the San Juans, even at sunset. Consider it a must. Kev led me to the town of Everson and the Everson Inn where we ate a nice pub dinner, had a few beers, and played shuffleboard (Kev overtook my early lead to win the game). Got into Bellingham, immediately found a motel, and crashed.
I lived in Bellingham in 1988 so I woke up early before Kev and drove around the town and saw what was new, what was different, what was the same...my way of waking up, I guess. Picked up Kev after a few hours and had breakfast in the Fairhaven district. Fairhaven is an artsy, hippie-esque place with lots of restaurants, furniture and craft shops, and of course a wonderful bookshop. Kev and I meandered around for a while and then Kev wanted to find a place to watch the Germany/Italy World Cup match. We were recomended to a the Boundary Bay Brewpub downtown so there we went. Brew and soccer before baseball...but of course.
Kev and I got to the ballpark just before the firat pitch. The Bellingham Bells were the home team and Joe Martin Field is their stadium. The whole stadium district there in Bellingham ws being remodeled so there was lots of yellow tape and plywood everywhere. Joe Martin had been hosting ballgames since the 40's and it definitely needed a makeover. The old wooden grandstand, stretching from first to third, was being sanded and repainted. Where Skagit was a lush green field, Joe Martin was a serviceable field with strange valleys in the outfield and rough infield. The PA announcer here was loud and always selling something. Where Skagit was quiet and about the game, Joe Martin was like any other ballpark selling the baseball amusement park. A yellow bird in a Bells uniform walked around enticing children. Smells of hamburgers and hot dogs on the grill were welcome. A hidden table off of first base was the beer garden. Nothing was over four dollars for the concessions. A large burm on the left field foul pole was a great place to sit and soak in the sun or let the kids run around. A nice 80* day. And as Kev and I kept telling each other, we were doing the perfect American ritual: baseball on the Fourth of July. "Happy 4th, Paul." "Happy Independence Day, Kev."
The thing that struck me though watching the game was the difference in the two teams playing. Bellingham had uniforms that didn't seem right. Not all the players were wearing matching hats: some had blue hats with a "B" in the center, some had red. Now, I understand that this is a two month collegiate league and wherever you can cut corners or get cheap uniforms is understandable (Skagit and Everett had uniforms that were definitely hand-me-downs). But the opposing team was the Aloha Knights, a team that played out of Gresham, Oregon. Their colors were red, black, and white and their attire looked incredibly sharp. Everyone matched and, frankly, they looked better than some major league teams. Then it hit me: this is a team from Oregon...also known as Nike-land. Yep, there were a bunch of swooshes all over their uniforms, caps, and footwear. Then the name: Knights. Phil Knight, the owner of Nike. (Kev actually talked to a Knight player and said that the team was actually owned by Mr. Knight's wife but, yes, the team name was an honor to themselves ). Oh, yes, baseball and Nike. And it's the 4th. Proud to be an American.
But good uniforms didn't help Aloha that day. Bellingham scored three runs early and then added two more to win the game 5-0. By that point, Kev and I were itching to get back home. We both had 4th functions to attend to that night so we got on the road. We talked about how cool it was to see baseball and the ballparks here and how a quick road trip can just perk up your senses. We talked of doing it again. I mentioned my upcoming Alaska trip and Kev told me to take lots of notes and pictures. It was a good time. Kev did add his Kev-ness to this trip and I was glad we did it.
And as we drove through Mt. Vernon on our way to Seattle, Kevin flipped off the city center once again.
A thought from the staff.... The "Curse of A-Rod" = no team with Alex Rodriguez on its roster will ever win a World Series.
Our thought = A-Rod wil win the title when he is forty-two years old, mostly as a DH
with the Seattle Mariners.
