7.30.02 ALBANY-COLONIE DIAMOND DOGS vs ELMIRA PIONEERS
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The kid wanted to know if I was a scout. It was a reasonable question, I
guess. I was sitting down the third base line, in the first row, most of the
visiting Elmira Pioneers’ relief corps sitting directly in front of me;
I wore a Dodgers cap, had a scorebook in my lap, scribbled the occasional
note to myself. Afterwards I thought about what I should’ve said: Yep.
I’m a free-lance scout (is there even such a thing? It wouldn’t
have mattered: the kid was eleven, maybe twelve years old), doing some work
right now for the Dodgers organization, checking out some independent Northern
League games, on the look-out for young talent that’s fallen through
the cracks. Played a bit in college, tore up my shoulder. You play ball? Little
League? Here, take my card… The guys in the bullpen turning around now,
on to me, grinning.
I blew it, though. “Are you a scout?” the kid asked. Me? No man,
I’m just a guy watching the game, just like you. Can I have one of those
balls you’ve talked out of those guys? Nah, I didn’t even say that.
He didn’t seem much disappointed. “Oh,” he said—the whatever
was implicit—turning back to the players, who entertained themselves
by subjecting him and his friends to an absurd gauntlet of trivia questions
in exchange for souvenirs.
“If you can tell me what state I’m from,” drawled a skinny
guy in his early twenties, “I’ll give you a ball.”
“Alabama.”
Incredulous, to a teammate: “Shit, did you hear that?” Turning
back to the kid: “Okay, if you can tell me the capital of Alabama I’ll
give you a ball.” Ad infinitum.
Liz had lent me her copy of Stefan Fatsis’s excellent Wild and Outside,
a 1994 chronicle of the fledgling Northern League’s second season. The
book, which portrayed small-town, independent baseball against a backdrop
of the last major league strike, had, together with the looming specter of
the next one, inspired me to drive four hours to Albany—in the Miata,
no less—in a gesture of solidarity and moral support for what the Northern
League represents: essentially, a giant middle finger raised in the face of
major league baseball.
More than that, though, it represents further evidence of major league baseball’s
ultimate irrelevance. Here’s a league that asks nothing of MLB, gets nothing
from MLB, and does just fine on its own, thank you very much. Heritage Park
in Colonie, New York, just outside Albany, may be something less than a ravishing
beauty but it’s not without its charms, foremost among them the feeling of
community that I’ve encountered so often in ballparks like this. Former Dodger
Mike Marshall serves not only as the Diamond Dogs’ manager, but as general
manager as well, meaning he basically runs the whole business. His wife does
the books. Bench coach Gary Cathcart doubles as the sales and marketing director.
And so on.
The players, most of them in their mid to late twenties, take a cue from
their bosses and seem to appreciate that their job is as much about serving
as entertainers and local celebrities as it is about playing ball. If that
means spending most of a game messing with a bunch of little kids’ heads,
then so be it. As the program says, this is “Baseball the Old Fashion
[sic] Way.”
Unfortunately for the locals, tonight was all about Pioneers starter Greg Keagle, who held the second-place Diamond Dogs hitless through six and two thirds innings, and gave up only one more before leaving after eight, having struck out eleven. Offensively, Pioneers first baseman Brian Jones hammered first-pitch lead-off home runs in both the fourth and sixth innings, right fielder Brandon Pernell contributed a two-run homer in the fifth, and Elmira hitters took advantage of some walks and errors to account for the rest of their six runs.
FINAL SCORE: PIONEERS 6, DIAMOND DOGS 2
LIFE DURING WARTIME: This season is “Honor America” year at Heritage Park, dontcha know. A bunch of firefighters from a nearby town and their kids took the field for the national anthem and were saluted with repeated ovations. It was like the days after September 11th all over again. I don’t get it—aren’t we supposed to be back to normal now? What are we doing honoring ordinary people for their hard work and sacrifice?