Anchorage Glacier Pilots vs. Mat-Su Miners
July 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.
posted by paul shipp @ 10:33 AM
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