6.25.04 TAMPA BAY DEVIL RAYS vs FLORIDA MARLINS
LIFE DURING WARTIME?
A few years back when I moved to this lowly city by the sea…um...bay…err…gulf, I was enamored at the fact that I had not only an NFL franchise, but a fledgling NHL team to help quench my seemingly insatiable thirst for live sports. And, a short one-hour drive east, a decent Orlando NBA team could be found, featuring several up-and-coming youngsters in Shaquille O’Neal and Penny Hardaway. All that was missing was an MLB franchise. Sure enough, three years later, the Tampa/Saint Petersburg area was blessed with its own little slice of heaven, the Tampa Bay Devil Rays. The stadium was a spacious mausoleum affectionately named the ThunderDome. Built originally in 1989 in a failed attempt to attract the San Francisco Giants, this cement structure had been home to the Tampa Bay Storm (Arena Football) and the “bad-as-the-day-is-long” Tampa Bay Lightning before becoming host to the Rays. My roommates and myself quickly scarfed up the virgin season tickets and set sail with the Devil Rays on their maiden voyage.
This team was steeped in Tampa sports tradition. Losing. Like you mean it. I mean, hey, you get Bobby Abreu in the expansion draft and turn around and swap him even-up for an over-the-hill Kevin Stocker. That set the pace for the franchise for the next six years. After many years of last place finishes, not just in the division, but in the league, the Devil Rays finally hired a manager they thought just might turn the sinking franchise around. Sweet Lou came home. Lou and the boys were all right last year, but after a series of off-season moves, the team and the public thought this might be the year the Rays finally made some noise. The problem is, without pitching, you can pick up all the offense in the world and it won’t matter. After a miserable start to the 2004 season the Devil Rays finally came into their own during the month of June. After cruising through their interleague games the Rays returned for a home stand against the World Series champs, the Florida Marlins.
After a grueling week at work, the one oasis I look forward to is a megajuana at the local burrito joint, Tijuana Flats. The manager is a good friend and noticing the long face on that particular afternoon offered me a couple of free ducats for that night’s game. Having been to only a half-dozen spring training games this spring and no regular season tilts I decided this was the opportunity I was looking for. Because of a local promotion (bring a can of marlin, um, tuna, get in for $5) a large crowd was expected. Now, let’s see, a promotion to get people in, the cross-state rival World Series champs in town, and the team had just won something like 12 in a row to get to .500. I would guess you would need to staff appropriately for that scenario instead of for the usual 4,000 fans. This is why the Devil Rays continue to go nowhere. They provide a subpar product at premium prices in a place you don’t want to be.
If you have never been to the Trop, it is a place completely devoid of character. I understand the need for cement, especially in a hurricane-prone area. But for the love of god, please paint it; cover it up with advertisements, something, anything but the grey walls from turf to dome. Do you ever go into a large, nondescript room with grey walls and it literally lulls you to sleep? Imagine that, with none of that Florida sun I moved here for shining through, and add a team that doesn’t contend. That it’s a real bad combo platter is something every fan has realized but management continues to overlook. This game was simply meant to be played outside.
I digress.
On this particular night the staffing was horrendous. Though not from L.A., my brother and I hit the Trop in the third inning. From the full lots outside it appeared that the Rays had finally won the public’s support. I think all 25,000 people in attendance had driven themselves separately. The place was half-full inside. What a shame – after all, the team’s .500, winning a few series in a row, owning the NL during the interleague games and coming home after a long road trip. First things first though: from the grand rotunda entrance we made our way to nearest beer stand.
Immediately we noticed the extremely long lines. There are long lines, and then there are lines that are Disneyworld would be ashamed of. These were of the Disneyworld variety. We tried other concession areas, but all posed the same dilemma. Fortunately there are TVs everywhere so at least we wouldn’t miss much of the game. The third inning comes and goes, but we moved up a handful of spots in line. Fourth inning comes and goes, but hey we moved up another 5–6 spots. Fifth inning. Sixth inning. Shameful. The seventh inning we FINALLY get to the counter. “Sorry, there is something wrong with the CO2, we only have one tap working for the whole stand”… and the seven separate lines filing into it. We order four of the only size available. Miller Lite, 24 oz, $7.50. We were then greeted with a snide “Sorry sir, only two beers per customer.” What? Like I have four innings to come back here for more?! I just waited four innings in line. Four fucking innings!!!! Seeing she wouldn’t budge on this “issue,” I took two steps backwards, away from my brother, and disowned him. He took his two, and I gladly took two for myself after. Path of least resistance, I figured.
As we walked away from the concession stand and we looked at those lines, I pitied those fools, like BA from the A-Team. For those toward the back of the line would not see the rest of the game, only they didn’t know it yet. Strange, though, despite being in line for four innings … wait, I have to say that again, despite being in line for four fucking innings, I can't remember looking at the monitors once. I had no idea what had happened so far in the game other than it was 2–0. That we noticed. You know that weird feeling. You’re buried in the belly of the stadium trying to get something and you hear that roar from the field and everyone panics. Everyone instinctively bolted for the tunnel after the first person took off running to see what was going on. Like in Africa when the first wildebeest bolts and the rest follow not knowing why, but the first one must have had a good reason.
We trudged our sour attitudes to our seats. After chatting for a few minutes about the seats, the crowd, and the beer, we noticed that the legendary Dewon Brazelton had been throwing a no-hitter into the seventh. We quickly snapped up and realized we had possibly walked into a bit of history. Dewon Brazelton had been complaining apparently of leg cramps since the sixth. He still managed to cruise through the remainder of the seventh. Unlike my first beer.
The eighth inning started with Luis Castillo and the young and impressive Miguel Cabrera making outs to the hot-hitting shortstop Julio Lugo. While he had made a couple of nice plays, it didn’t compare to the drubbing my second beer took during those two outs. I had hoped to make one more run for beer before the concessions closed at the end of that inning. After seeing the line from the top of the tunnel, my allegiance to the home team waned. I took my seat and for the first time that game opened my mouth for something other than beer. As the next batter, Mike Lowell, stepped in, I let out a “C’mon Mike, break it up!”, much to the dismay of the family in front of us. As Lowell careened the first hit of the night against the left centerfield wall, I sat down with a shrug and a “I didn’t REALLY mean it” look. If their looks could kill, I’d be deader than Mike Piazza’s arm. Dewon Brazelton was quickly ushered off after the hit.
To make long, well, really long story shorter, the Devil Rays hung on to win 2–0, giving up two hits in the process. The Devil Rays are playing great ball, but you can’t fool baseball. If you have no pitching it will all even out in the end. You might make a run, but in the end you’ll end up where you should.
I truly wish the Rays luck. I’d love to see another winner in town. The Bucs won a few years back, the Lightning this year. They have a boatload of young talent sans Josh Hamilton and should make a great run at some point if they can secure some quality pitching. Young phenom B.J. Upton should be up by September. But with the lack of interest in this area for the Rays, I don’t see the management, which has been traditionally cheap, investing the money. But then, that’s where the Bucs and the Lightning started and built from, so who knows.
TIME: 2:18
ATTENDANCE: 25,157
BEERS: 2 Miller 24-ozs for me, 2 for my bro
FOOD: I didn’t feel up to fighting those lines, but my brother took part in a rubbery foot-long Hebrew National that had been cooked waaaay too long.
Scott Magin
