Traveling to Atlantic City for baseball is worth the gamble

Warming up in the Atlantic City Surf bullpen.

This is the eighth in a series. Previous posts are:

Trenton Thunder
Cape Fear Crocs
Newark Bears
New Jersey Cardinals
New Jersey Jackals
Staten Island Yankees
Somerset Patriots

August 22, 1999

The Surf is always up at the Sandcastle.

The name is a bit misleading, but nonetheless, a trip to The Sandcastle is like a night at the beach.

The home of the Atlantic City Surf sits between a highway and an airfield – not the boardwalk and the shoreline – and, well, it’s not actually made out of sand. But it is an attractive, nostalgia-inspiring place. There’s a certain Boys of Summer feeling about it.

Arrive early and walk around the outside of the park – the outfield corners provide a close view of each team’s bullpen as the players prepare for the game during batting practice. Most likely you’ll find a small gathering of children – more like a chain-link gang than a knothole gang – chasing each baseball that clears the fence.

The steps leading up to the main entrance are decorated on each side by baseball murals depicting Babe Ruth, Jackie Robinson, Honus Wagner, Ty Cobb and generic feel-good scenes of sandlot games and barnstorming teams.

Inside, the wide concourse makes for easy access to seats, via the Monopoly-named rows – from Baltic Avenue in left field to Mediterranean Avenue in right. The closer the seats to home plate, the more prestigious the names. The two lower sections behind home are Boardwalk and Park Place.

The 5,836 seats share the same color scheme as the Surf uniforms, a soothing complement of aqua and blue – the color we all would like the Atlantic Ocean to be along the Jersey Shore.

Like any minor league park – and increasingly the major league venues as well – the outfield is one panoramic billboard mosaic. Missing from the various advertisements, though, is Donald Trump’s collection of hotels and casinos. There’s no need, though – Trump Plaza and the Taj Mahal dominate the Atlantic City skyline that serves as the backdrop to the field.

Arriving close to two hours before the 7:05 p.m. game on Wednesday, I bought a $9 box seat that put me in the front row behind the Surf dugout on the third-base side.

From there, you have a great view of the game, plenty of leg room and a dugout roof that can be used as a footrest or a place to set your dinner. You also get a front-row center orchestra seat for the fifth-inning “YMCA” dance, featuring as many kids as can fit safely on the roof.

Such a close seat also allows for a close view of Surf catcher Hector Villanueva, the former Chicago Cub who could have been the origin of the term “backstop” to refer to a pitcher’s batterymate.

The 6-1, 220-pound catcher took the ceremonial first pitches from two guests, then handled the ceremonial first bag of peanuts tossed out by a peanut vendor because it was his birthday. The vendor took the bag back before Hector had a chance to eat the peanuts.

Atlantic City owner Frank Boulton is the founder of the independent Atlantic League, which will expand to eight teams next summer.

Boulton, a Long Island resident, will also own the Long Island Ducks.

The Surf nickname works well so close to the ocean, but makes for some puns that get old fast. The public-address announcer begins the bottom of each inning with, “Ladies and gentlemen, Surrrrrrrrrrf’s up!” Each new pitcher was introduced with a different name for the mound – from sandhill to sand dune.

Before entering the game, instead of warming up in the bullpen, the relievers get loose in the Sandbox. OK, that one I kind of liked.

The Surf, in their second year at A.C., won the game, completing a three-game sweep of the Somerset Patriots. Former Met Chuck E. Carr homered and scored twice for the “Beach Boys,” (another one thought up by the P.A. guy) the 1998 Atlantic League champions.

Former major league all-star Ruben Sierra went 1-for-4 with a single, and Villanueva walked twice but never made it around to score. Kerry Taylor went 7 1/3 innings to improve to 2-2 on the season.

It was fireworks night after the game, so I put my feet up on the dugout as each light tower was shut down for the show. While the pyrotechnic display exploded beyond the scoreboard in left field and the patriotic music came through the speakers, I thought how nice it was for the Surf to end my eight-week summer odyssey at minor league ballparks with such flair.

Now I might have a chance to catch the Mets at Shea.

Thunder covers all the bases

Where minor league baseball returned to New Jersey.

This is the seventh in a series. Previous posts are:

Cape Fear Crocs
Newark Bears
New Jersey Cardinals
New Jersey Jackals
Staten Island Yankees
Somerset Patriots

August 8, 1999

Something sets Mercer County Waterfront Park aside from the rest of New Jersey's minor league baseball scene.

It might be the setting – on one side, rows of houses on the outskirts of Trenton; on the other, the flowing water of the Delaware River, at this point still respectably high despite the lack of rain.

It could be the tenure – only in its sixth season, Waterfront Park and the Trenton Thunder are the senior members of New Jersey's collection of minor league baseball teams.

Or maybe it just comes down to the players and the level of baseball being played before 6,000 fans every night. As the Boston Red Sox's Class AA franchise – only two rungs from Fenway Park on the organizational ladder – the Thunder players are among the best of Red Sox future. There's the chance one of the players can take the field as a member of the Thunder and walk back into the dugout to be told he's got to pack his bags for Pawtucket or Boston.

Some names on the back of those Boston road jerseys are still familiar to loyal Thunder fans – Lou Merloni, Brian Rose and Nomar Garciaparra. Bret Saberhagen even made some starts for Trenton while rehabilitating his arm on the way back to the majors.

Now there are new players making their names known. By this time next summer we could be reading about Rafael Betancourt, Andy Hazlett (it should be noted here at the Shore that the Oregon native pronounces it Hays–lett), David Gibralter or Nate Tebbs starring on Yawkey Way. Tomokazu Ohka, the first native of Japan to play in the Red Sox organization, can still be found in this year's Thunder yearbook, and I saw him get rocked by the Tigers in Detroit two weeks ago.

Trenton does it all. The ticket prices and between–inning entertainment are minor league, the pinstripes and four different hats (one each for home, away, Sunday home and away on cloudless weeknights or something) are major league. The players for both teams are young and aggressive, flashy when they can be and resourceful when they need to be. You can't help but enjoy yourself in a packed stadium on a summer night with the breeze blowing off the river.

I drove out to Waterfront Park on Tuesday with my sister, Jessica, and we met a family friend and Notre Dame classmate, Liz Petruska, who had a considerably shorter drive from Hopewell. It took us an hour from the Shore. Regular readers of this column may notice that every park but Skylands in Sussex County has taken 45 to 75 minutes to reach. Even with the construction closing Route 29, the traffic off the interstate was bearable. As a result, we took Cass Road, also named Thunder Road, which is certainly appropriate considering Mr. Springsteen's current run at the Meadowlands. Couldn't find Roy Orbison singing for the lonely, though.

Unlike any of the previous parks I've visited, I called ahead for Thunder tickets, but only on one day's notice. Still, we had good seats just to the first–base side of home plate in the last row, right in front of the reclining chairs set up on the concourse for the Stevens Furniture "Best Seat In The House" promotion.

As they've done all season – forgive me, but it's hard not to use this one here – the Thunder rolled. Second baseman David Eckstein led off the game with a triple and finished with four hits in five at–bats, only a home run short of the cycle. The New Haven Ravens – the Mariners' affiliate – put four runs up in the fourth for a 4–2 lead, but the Thunder stormed back (sorry again) and held on for a 5–4 win.

After the game, the stadium announcer mentioned that Trenton's magic number now stood at 20. Magic number! That's not a phrase you usually hear two days into August unless you're talking about the 1998 Yankees. But this team is blowing through the Eastern League with a 151/2–game lead late last week on the Norwich Navigators, the second–place team in the Northern Division. The entire South Division is within eight games of first place.

You may have noticed from other ballparks, but the concession prices are always the same. In Trenton, the rather hard cheeseburger cost $3.25 and a helmet full of fries was $4. A huge soda, probably a liter, was $4.25 in a souvenir cup. A glance at the board told me water costs $2.25, juice $2.75, glasses of chardonnay and white zinfandel $3.25 and beer (Miller Lite, Coors Light, Michelob, Yuengling Black and Tan, River Horse Ale) anywhere from $3.50 to $5. Jessica, Liz and I kept talking about getting cotton candy – and how none of us could remember ever seeing it come in purple – but we settled for Carvel ice cream that was perfect for the warm night.

The success of the Thunder in Trenton has happened all over America with teams in similar cities sparking a rebirth, drawing people back from the suburbs. They're roaring down Thunder Road, and it looks like this year it will end in a championship.

Lakewood's minor league team is a major loss for Cape Fear

Uh ... "welcome" to J.P. Riddle Stadium.

This is the sixth in a series. Previous posts are:

Newark Bears
New Jersey Cardinals
New Jersey Jackals
Staten Island Yankees
Somerset Patriots

August 15, 1999

It's sad, really.

In the spring of 2001, Lakewood will join six other New Jersey towns and cities on the minor league baseball map. Many people along the Shore are already excited about the team coming to Lakewood, but it comes at the expense of fans in the Sandhills region of southeastern North Carolina.

As excited as New Jersey fans will be to welcome the franchise to Lakewood, that's how sad the fans down Interstate 95 will feel when they say goodbye to their Cape Fear Crocs.

The Class A Crocs will finish this South Atlantic League season and the next in 11–year–old J.P. Riddle Stadium in Fayetteville, N.C., a city of 75,000 that lies halfway between New York and Miami on I–95. Then the organization will leave, re–emerging at the start of the 2001 season in Lakewood, with a new nickname.

After a two–game visit to Riddle Stadium, I can see why Crocs owner Greg Padgett decided to sell his team to the American Baseball Co., the same group that owns the Class AA Eastern League Trenton Thunder and Reading Phillies. It's a small stadium with metal stands, seats and bleachers. There is no covering over the seats, no concourse, no concession or souvenir stands other than separate, free–standing sheds behind the stands. The six–person Crocs staff has a trailer set up at the end of one building to use as its office.

The scoreboard has no video screen and lists only the bare essentials – line score, pitch count and batter's uniform number.

It's minor league baseball like it used to be, really. Just like in "Bull Durham," only without the big bull beyond the outfield wall. But not even that landmark stadium could avoid the progress of the wrecking ball, and now the Class AAA Bulls – in a higher classification – play in a new park.

These days, no–frills baseball does not cut it for a public that expects to be entertained wherever it goes. In fact, we prefer to be entertained while waiting to be entertained. A mere baseball game is not going to be enough to satisfy a culture that produced a demand for minivans with videocassette recorders and video screens. Seems the journey is no longer half the fun, we just want to get there.

The journey to Carolina's Cape Fear region covers a little more than 500 miles and takes nine to 10 hours, depending on speed and stops. I spent the entire trip down with Bruce Springsteen – someone who knows about small communities hitting hard times – in the tape deck. I later checked how far his entire roster of albums would take you – easily from here to Miami, with 19 hours of Boss music from the start of "Greetings from Asbury Park" to the end of "Tracks."

City on the rebound

I toured Fayetteville on Tuesday before that night's game with the Delmarva Shorebirds. It's an old city, established in 1783 and one of many U.S. cities named for the Revolutionary War hero the Marquis de Lafayette. Before establishing Raleigh as the state capital, the North Carolina Legislature met in Fayetteville, and it was there in 1789 that it ratified the U.S. Constitution and chartered the University of North Carolina, the oldest state university in America.

Dozens of miles from the ocean, Fayetteville is North Carolina's most inland port, thanks to the Cape Fear River that lends its name to businesses all over the state's southeastern corner. The actual Cape Fear lies about 80 miles south, which would make a long ride for Robert DeNiro holding onto the bottom of a car.

Eight historic churches are scattered about town, along with other significant buildings and landmarks. The Old Market House now occupies the site of the old State House, where the Legislature ratified the Constitution and founded UNC. The Market House is a national landmark, centered in a traffic circle at the intersection of four downtown streets. It's a bittersweet picture with such an elegant building sitting among abandoned storefronts.

Leading west from the Market House is Hay Street, a cobblestone, tree–lined avenue with storefronts along either side. It's the type of street that should be blocked off on weekends with hordes of people shopping, eating, sightseeing, but there are only a few stores to attract any crowd; one of every three buildings is occupied, with the others whitewashed and boarded.

But Fayetteville is making a comeback. I had watched a city–produced tourism pitch on television and recognized many of the projects under way or about to start. Storefronts and entire buildings are under renovation. The only problem is the city may not have baseball to help with the rebound, the way Trenton and Newark are pulling themselves up with the help of America's pastime.

Still fighting

If baseball does not return to Fayetteville for some time after the Crocs leave, it won't be because of a lack of effort by team management.

General manager Brad Taylor and the director of media and military special events, Buck Rogers, know they need to make a push for baseball in the region. Every home date left on the 1999 Crocs schedule has some promotion attached to it, and there's certainly going to be a lot planned for next season.

But despite their efforts, the Crocs rank last in Sally League attendance. Through 52 home dates, Cape Fear was averaging 1,202 fans with a total of 62,523. The Shorebirds, an Orioles affiliate playing in Salisbury, Md., led the league with 236,068, an average of 4,216 for their 56 home dates.

"We have 55,000 people stationed at Ft. Bragg," Rogers said. "Every Monday home game is Military Monday, where anyone with any kind of military ID gets in free. But we had only 620 people here last (Monday)."

That's about all the Crocs got for each of the three games on last week's homestand – 620 to 670 people per game. After winning Monday's game 7–3, Cape Fear dropped the second game 6–1 to fall into a three–way tie atop the standings with Delmarva and the Hagerstown (Md.) Suns. The Shorebirds won Wednesday's game 8–3, sending the Crocs to third place.

It seems that the record on the field has nothing to do with it.

"The bottom line is, a facility will make or break baseball in Fayetteville," Rogers said. "No team will even remotely consider coming here without ground being broken and ongoing construction."

A little more than a mile up the road, back toward the city, the new $55 million Crown Coliseum draws 3,000 for Fayetteville Force ice hockey games, and sells out the 10,000–seat arena for professional wrestling.

"Around here, if it's not NASCAR or All–Star wrestling, they don't care," Rogers said.

So next summer, while we watch the progress on Lakewood's 6,500–seat park, baseball fans in Cape Fear will be counting the days until J.P. Riddle Stadium finally falls silent for good. Just don't call the Crocs lame.

"People are saying we're going to be a lame–duck team next year," Taylor said. "It's only lame duck if you make it that. If the fans make it, if the community makes it, if we as a staff let it. But if we don't give a push at the end and show people that we want baseball here, it could be 10 years before anyone looks at this region again."

Newark delivers history lesson

The Bears' den in Newark.

August 1, 1999

New Jersey's baseball history is rooted in Newark. Sure, one of the first organized professional games was played in Hoboken, but Newark's involvement with the national pastime lasted much longer.

However, in 1949, it all disappeared. The old Newark Bears, at times a Class AAA affiliate of the Brooklyn Dodgers and then the New York Yankees, were sold to the Chicago Cubs and moved to Springfield, Mass. In 1937, the Bears won the pennant by 251/2 games, went on to win the "Little World Series" and are considered one of the best minor league teams of all time.

The Eagles, Newark's franchise in the Negro Leagues back when too many people felt separation was necessary, also left town, and it took 50 years to bring baseball back.

Baseball's back in Newark with the new Bears playing in the independent Atlantic League at their unfinished park along McCarter Highway and the Passaic River. Officially, it's called Riverfront Stadium, but everyone considers it "The Den." They are the Bears, after all.

Attending a Newark Bears game does have a feeling of history to it, knowing that these players are, in a way, descendants of baseball back in the day when the uniforms were flannel and never included the color teal. My mother came with me on this trip because her family history dates back to Newark's Italian north side, where her grandmother's house was torn down to make way for Interstate 280.

Riverfront Stadium actually borders the McCarter Highway, which runs along the Passaic River. The $34 million park, which makes it one of the most expensive minor league parks in America, is finished enough to play baseball – the concourse and all the seats are complete, as are the clubhouses down the left field line. But the second level – what will become the press and broadcast booths and luxury boxes – is still under construction. A drawing in the program shows what the place will look like, with landscaping and a courtyard surrounding it, when construction is complete. Parking is conveniently close for $4.

These young Bears – who played last season in Bridgeport, Conn., and the first part of 1999 at Skylands Park in Augusta – are owned by former Yankees and Mets catcher Rick Cerone, who was at the turnstiles when the gates opened. Cerone spent much of the game in the stands, signing autographs and even dancing between innings at one point.

Whether or not current players, such as former Yankee Hensley "Bam Bam" Meulens, know anything about Newark's history, the game program does a fine job of reminding the fans. Old photos of both the Bears and Eagles appear on the cover and throughout the magazine, along with an article on the history of the current stadium's site as well as team history. It's the best program I've seen after visiting five parks, with detailed player profiles and lots of information about the team history and how Newark got baseball back.

Even the mascot, Rip 'N Ruppert, gets his name from the past – Ruppert Stadium, where those Bears and Eagles used to play in a park named for one–time Yankee owner Col. Jacob Ruppert.

Mom and I settled into our $8 seats just beyond first base, and the first few innings of Tuesday's game went quickly. The Bears' Tim Cain and the Bridgeport Bluefish's Al Sontag battled to a 2–1 Bridgeport lead after four innings. In the fifth, shortstop Cesar Morillo and third baseman Meulens sent back–to–back home runs toward McCarter Highway for a 3–2 Bears lead. Cain couldn't hold it, though, and Bridgeport scored two in the eighth and one in the ninth for a 5–3 victory.

Morillo's homer, because it was the Bears' first of the night, won the couple next to me a free dinner. Later in the night, two more couples competed for Great Adventure tickets. The men tossed up water balloons and the ladies had to hit the balloons with bats. It certainly cooled them off. If you're interested in winning, be sure to sign up for the promotions along the concourse.

As far as food – when it's not under– or over–cooked, it basically tastes the same at all ballparks, with slight differences in selection. I had a decent $2.25 hamburger (again, like the Jackals' game, no cheese) and a great $2 pretzel. Beer – Coors, Coors Light, Sam Adams, Killian's – cost $3.25 to $4. Mom said the hot dogs were good and hot, and the service was very nice. Chicken sandwiches and bags of chips were also available.

The attendance Tuesday was announced at 2,623, but there was a sense that it went way beyond the 6,100 capacity of the Den. With the Bears back in town, Newark has 50 years of baseball to catch up on.

DIRECTIONS: Take the New Jersey Turnplike to Exit 15W. Get on I–280 West to Exit 15A (Route21) Follow signs for Route 21 South– also McCarter Highway. Turn right onto Route 21. At the second light, turn right onto Bridge Street. The stadium will be on the right.

Skylands Park made for fans

July 25, 1999

Skylands Park is New Jersey’s Field of Dreams.

Take the barn-style architecture, add the rolling hills and countryside, and throw in 32 eager, aspiring ballplayers wearing those classic – and classy – Cardinal uniforms, and people will come, Ray.

I went to a town called Augusta Monday, just a little early, and spent some time walking the trails of Stokes State Forest, just seven miles form the ballpark off Route 206 north. I passed the Appalachian Trail getting there, too. You might want to make a day of it, in part because it is a one-hour, 45-minute drive up that way from the Little Silver/Red Bank area.

You’ll know you are getting closer to Skylands park when Route 15 goes from four lanes down to two and you start seeing the neatly rolled hay bales dotting the fields around you. Then you’ll get to the intersection with Route 206 and a gas station on the corner. Make a right there, and you’ll see Skylands Park on your left – across the cornfield. It’s a big complex, with a batting cage, karate school and a small sporting goods store that serves as the New Jersey Cardinals gift shop.

I flew solo on this trip and bought an $8 box seat at about 5:30 for a 7:15 game. I sat in the first row, just five seats from the third-base dugout, and have never felt so close to a baseball game in which I was not playing. The on-deck hitters for the Hudson Valley Renegades, the Tampa Bay Devil Rays’ New York-Penn League affiliate, were so close I could have offered them some last-minute tips before they walked to the batter’s box. I could see the wrinkles in their jerseys. When Andy Diaz, the former Florida State star I recognized from last month’s College World Series, came out and warmed up for each at bat, the breeze picked up. He whipped his Louisville Slugger around so fast with one hand loosening up, I just hoped he did not lose his grip.

Skylands Park and New Jersey Cardinals games are for real baseball fans. You have to be willing to drive nearly two hours to watch two teams with maybe two or three recognizable names between them. There were not nearly as many contests and giveaways between innings – no advertising the giant Cardinal mascot, and only a few appearances by the roving microphone guy in the stands. The T-shirt slingshot came out a couple of times, and it was autograph bat night, so about 50 fans selected by their seat numbers won wooden bats which they could have autographed after the game. There was no karaoke on top of the dugout, which was music to my ears. Other than the fried dough and fresh-cut French fries, the menu selection is small and basic. It was more laid back and I loved it.

The first two innings were scoreless. The Cardinals’ B.R. Cook allowed leadoff doubles in each inning, but exciting plays by shortstop Damon Thames and centerfielder Tim Lemon – who threw Diaz out at home – kept the Renegades off the scoreboard. Hudson Valley starter Cody Getz – a lanky 6-foot-8 lefty – imitated David Cone for five batters, striking out four of them, but then got drilled on the right arm by a Lemon line drive. Getz went five innings, striking out seven, but allowed four runs on six hits in New Jersey’s 7-2 win.

Skylands came alive in the third when the Cards took a 2-0 lead on three consecutive hits, including two towering doubles. It seemed louder than any of the minor league crowds I’d heard so far this summer, but that may have been because I sat so close to the action. Fly balls do not seem to carry at Skylands, and I do not know if it was the weather, the pitchers, the hitters or the park. As a result, the two teams combined for five doubles, a triple, and a lot of long flyball outs to the warning track. But doubles and triples keep the crowd cheering longer anyway.

Without anyone to help with the food testing, I could only muster an appetite for the nachos grande and a huge Pepsi in a $2.75 Cardinals souvenir cup. The nachos ($4.25) came with plenty of cheese and salsa, and the jalapenos added the spice. Pretzels are $2.25, peanuts and popcorn $3.25. Bottled water is $2.50 and beers (Coors, Coors Light, Sam Adams among the choices) cost $3.25 for 16 ounces and $3.75 for 20.

After the game, the Cardinals players were given autograph pens and the fans who had won bats were allowed onto the field to get signatures from any of the players. I imagine the autograph book giveaway on Aug. 16 will be handled in a similar manner.

I enjoyed the scene for a little while, then made my way to the parking lot. It took only five minutes to exit the lot, then about three more to get back to Route 15. The field lights illuminated Skylands Park, which stood out in the night of that Sussex County cornfield. I turned onto Route 15 and the traffic disappeared, and I was swallowed by the country darkness.

It ain’t over till it’s over at Yogi Berra Stadium

Sunset at Yogi Berra Stadium, Montclair.

July 18, 1999

The beautiful thing about baseball is that from April through September there’s always a game.

While the major league All-Stars slugged it out in the Home Run Derby in Boston on Monday, my father, my friend Dave and I traveled to Yogi Berra Stadium on the campus of Montclair State University to watch the independent New Jersey Jackals host the Massachusetts Mad Dogs in a Northern League contest.

Last season, the Jackals won the Northeast League, which then took its eight teams and merged with the powerful Northern League – made up of teams from Wisconsin, Illinois and the Dakotas. The Northern League Central (the original Northern League) includes the St. Paul Saints, which has featured Rey Ordonez, Darryl Strawberry, J.D. Drew and currently Matt Nokes on the roster.

The Northern League East, in which the Jackals had the best record at 23-19 heading into Friday, keeps to itself in Pennsylvania, New York, Massachusetts, Connecticut, New Jersey and Quebec. The two sides will not meet until the third and final round of the playoffs when the Central and East champions compete in a best-of-5 series for the Northern League championship.

But if the Jackals play like they did in Monday’s 18-7 loss to the Mad Dogs, they won’t be making any trips to the Midwest come September.

First pitch for Jackals’ home games is 7:10, so plan some extra time for traffic. It took us 70 minutes to get to Yogi Berra Stadium. Unfortunately, it did not leave enough time to visit the Yogi Berra Museum, which sits above the field on the first-base side with Yogi and Yankees memorabilia – including the Yankees World Series trophy on loan.

It was at the museum where Berra reconciled with Yankees owner George Steinbrenner, and the team is honoring Yogi with Yogi Berra Day today at the Stadium.

The field is built into a hill, which gave me the sensation of looking down on the players in a different sense from the one you get climbing into the bleachers at other parks. It’s more of a feeling of actually watching from a hill than a man-made rise of cement and steel.

Our $8 box seats were on the third-base side, just off home plate, in the higher section of boxes. All the lower boxes are reserved for season-ticket holders. Reserved-seat bleachers are down the lines beyond the boxes, and out in the right-field foul area is a picnic area and grass hill. Four dollars gets you in there, where you can bring your own chairs or blankets. Also bring a glove and be ready to run. Most of the foul balls were run down by kids out on the lawn. Parking is free.

It was not a good day for New Jersey starting pitcher Pete Terrana, who gave up six runs on two hits and five walks in just 2 1/3 innings. All but one Massachusetts starter scored, and only two did not drive in at least one run. Left fielder Tony Mitchell homered twice and scored four runs. Speedy and exciting right fielder Juan Polanco drove in six runs with two triples to right-center field and a towering home run into the left-field darkness.

The Jackals roster includes two familiar names from the major leagues. Mark Lemke, a former second baseman for the Boston Red Sox and Atlanta Braves, is in his rookie season as a knuckleball pitcher. He came off the disabled list Wednesday, so I missed him on the mound.

Batting third is designated hitter “P.J.” Rose, which is a weak disguise for a player who lists his residence as Cincinnati and highest level of experience as “MLB.” The game program confirmed my suspicions: It’s Pete Rose Jr., the Hit King’s son who made a token appearance with the Reds last year after bouncing around in the minor leagues for most of the 90s.

P.J. doubled in two runs in the third, and he looked like Charlie No Hustle coasting into second while the right fielder misplayed the ball in the corner. After reading the games notes, though, I gave him and his sore hamstring the benefit of the doubt.

Dad gave the $2.50 hot dogs an OK – they were hot, but rather small. Dave was disappointed with his Jackals souvenir cup – for $4, he did get a lot of soda, but it came in an uninspiring clear, plastic beaker. It looked like something we used for chemistry labs at Red Bank Regional.

Yogi Berra Stadium had something I’ve not yet seen at minor league parks: the “combo meal.” Chicken, hot dogs and burgers (though no cheese) are all available with fries and a small soda for about $5.50.

The beer selection was again your basic ballpark fare (Bud, Bud Lite, Miller Lite, Michelob) with the pleasant addition of Molson Canadian. And for $6, you can get it in a plastic half-yard “glass” with the Jackals logo, a wonderful way to enjoy minor league ball as long as someone else is driving.

It turned out to be a comfortable night to enjoy a game, with the overcast sky keeping temperatures cool all night. There was some rain during the last inning, but by that time there were so few people left the public-address announcer could have leaned out of the press box and shouted the batters’ names.

Maybe some of Mark McGwire’s moon shots up in Boston brought the rain down.

Holy cow! It’s mini-Yankees

Shad Whiteley delivers a pitch.

Second in a series.

July 11, 1999

The Pittsfield (Mass.) Mets were in town Tuesday, so the Staten Island Yankees billed it as the “Subway Series of Tomorrow.”

But how many of these players will actually make it to “The Show” and play against each other in a New York battle? Despite the lack of a subway that can get you from Staten Island to Pittsfield, Mass., I thought of it as the “Mini-Subway Series.”

It took 50 minutes to get to the College of Staten Island from Marlboro, where I went to pick up Uncle Paul – not really an uncle of mine, just one of those family friends you call “uncle” because that’s what your parents said. I owed it to him. He and Aunt Sandy took me to my first baseball game when I was 7 years old. It was Yankee Stadium in 1983, but I was more excited to see Reggie Jackson, who was with the California Angels then. Reggie was the only player I knew by name on either team. I still have a Yankee pennant from that day – yellowed from spending 16 years on the walls of my room – though I followed my parents’ influence and became a Mets fan.

The Staten Island Yankees, part of the Class A New York-Penn League that includes the New Jersey Cardinals, will play at the college through the 2000 season while their park is built out by the ferry terminal in St. George. It’s a nice campus, and the parking was free (maybe because we got there two hours before the 7 p.m. game). But for someone who has seen a lot of college baseball games, the setting was not that impressive.

The Yankees do a spectacular job with what they’ve got, though. A huge section of bleachers runs from the right-field foul line into right-center. They’ve also added grandstands past both first and third base to increase the seating capacity to more than 4,500. All the food stands and souvenir tents are lined up behind the first-base grandstand, along with a Port-o-John subdivision that serves as restrooms. It felt like walking along a carnival midway with Nat King Cole’s “Lazy, Hazy Days of Summer,” Sinatra’s “Strangers In The Night” – Paul’s favorite – and contemporary music for the kids coming through the speakers.

Our $8 tickets put us in the third base grandstand, right where the outfield grass meets the infield dirt. We had a perfect view of the field, and – take note – were in the shade of the trees as the sun set behind us. At 6 p.m., the outfield clock showed 101 degrees. And it was humid. By the time the game ended just before 10 p.m., it had cooled down to 89. Beware: It is a college stadium, and every seat is a metal bleacher bench. You get sore. Bring a seat cushion in case you do not catch a free one thrown into the stands.

On the field, the Staten Islanders truly look like Mini-Yankees (Mini-Michael Kaye impression here): “The Yankees are wearing their button-down white home uniforms with the blue pinstripes, the blue interlocking ‘NY’ on the chest and blue numbers – no names – on the back. Blue socks and blue caps, but no white interlocking ‘NY.’ Instead the lids have the Yankees’ famous bat and top hat logo, with ‘Staten Island’ written in the ribbon underneath.”

They even played “New York, New York” when the game was over.

Pittsfield wore black jerseys – somehow black is a traditional Mets color after little more than a season – and gray pants like the ones worn in Flushing in the 80s, with the blue-and-orange stripe down the legs. Also black caps with a “P” and blue bills.

With the Mini-Mets in town, the fans got into the New York rivalry. Throughout the game, the cheers were as loud for the visitors as they were for the home team. Maybe because the Mets provided all the excitement. Yankees starter Shad Whiteley struck out 11 in five innings, but gave up three runs. The Mets went on to win 6-0, but went down in order in the ninth when Marlboro’s Jason Faigin came on to pitch.

The Yankees make sure everyone gets involved, with contests each inning and about a dozen giveaways with signatures on advertisements in the program. The mascot – Scooter, the Holy Cow – and other spent the game in the stands tossing free stuff to the 4,100 sweaty fans.

Paul loved his job as the hot dog taster, going back a few times during the game for the $1.75 franks, which were “nice and soft, bigger than the roll.” Bottled Pepsi and water were $2. I had a couple of slices of (“Staten Island’s own”) Bario’s pizza, $2 each, with whole pies available for the entire family. Most snacks were brought through the stands by vendors, but you’ll have to walk (not far, though) to get any beer. Vendors stationed near the entrances to the stands sell Corona, Coors Light, Beck’s and Rolling Rock for $2.50 to $3.50.

As Nat King Cole sang while we filed out of the park, “You’ll wish that summer could always be here.”

A visit to Bridgewater the Patriotic thing to do

Behind the plate in Bridgewater.

Pitchers and catchers begin reporting to spring training on Feb. 16, 2005. That's a little more than nine weeks from now. So starting today, with these 10 Fridays we have between now and then, I've decided to post some columns I wrote a few years ago when I was covering the minor leagues. I've wanted to include them in an electronic archive for posterity, and I figured the offseason was as good a time as any. Actual print dates are listed, but I take no responsibility for the headlines editors gave the columns. They appear as the titles to each entry.

July 4, 1999

Six years ago, New Jersey had no professional baseball teams. Now there are six in the Garden State, with another just over on Staten Island and one coming to Lakewood in 2001. Staff writer Dan [Lastname] will spend a night out at the ballpark each week this summer in search of the best baseball experience this side of Flushing or the Bronx.

Welcome to my dream.

It did not take much for my editors to convince me to take this assignment. In fact, they barely had to ask, and I eagerly accepted. By the end of August, I’ll have visited all six minor league teams in New Jersey, as well as the new Yankees affiliate on Staten Island and one other franchise yet to be determined. Eight weeks, eight parks, eight columns relating my experiences.

It begins with our newest diamond, Bridgewater’s Somerset Ballpark, home of the Somerset Patriots of the independent Atlantic League, a six-team organization with thre of the franchises in New Jersey. All last season and the first month of the 1999 campaign, the Patriots played all their games on the road – 125 straight – while the new brick-faced park was built in Bridgewater.

Certainly, it was a burden to the players to live in motels and ride buses everywhere, but for the fans it was worth the wait.

Getting to the park was no problem; my friend Dave got us the 41 miles from Little Silver (Exit 109) to the parking lot in 45 minutes on a Monday night for a game against the Atlantic City Surf (the third Atlantic League team in the state is the Newark Bears, who will open their stadium on July 16). There is also the convenience of New Jersey Transit’s Northeast Corridor line stopping just beyond the right field wall, if that interchange from the Parkway onto 287 just north of the Driscoll Bridge does not excite you as much as it does Dave and his BMW.

Without advance tickets I went to the window and asked for two of the best available seats.

“O.K.,” said the woman behind the glass, “how about Field Box? Behind home plate, front row?”

I took them.

For $8.50 apiece, Dave and I found ourselves tugging at the protective screen behind the plate, telling each other how cool this was. Put me in the front row at the ballpark, and I regress into immaturity. After the Hillsborough Royals took the field with the Patriots for the National Anthem, sung by the Parsons School Chorus, we settled in for the first pitch from lefthander Justin Jensen. It was a fastball – behind the plate, you see everything. Throughout the game, Dave called out the pitches (“Oh, what a curve!”) while I kept score.

The front-row seats magnified the entire ballpark experience in the cozy stadium with seats down both foul lines and billboards lending color to the outfield wall. The continuous murmur from the crowd provided background for the sounds on the field – the pop of a fastball in the catcher’s mitt, the crack of the bat, the call of the umpire and the communication among the players. Even the labels on the bats were legible from Row 1.

The problem with sitting right behind the plate is those foul balls that hit the screen, which gives at least 12 inches. Lean forward in your seat at the wrong moment, and a ball could still bounce off your face. And watch those drinks you place on top of the wall – a ball high into the screen took ours out; luckily we’d drunk most of them. You don’t think of these things in the upper deck at Shea.

Independent baseball teams usually have a varied group of athletes on the roster. Some are former all-stars or world champions, others are rookies you’ve never heard of.

The most recognizable name on the Somerset roster is Bobby Bonds Jr., the son of the former Giant and brother of three-time MVP Barry. Junior Bonds is a lanky (6-4, 185 pounds) version of his brother with an identical stance, only from the right side of the plate.

The Surf brought with them Ruben Sierra, the former Texas Rangers superstar who could not seem to find as much success in Oakland, the Bronx, Detroit or the Mets farm system as he did in Arlington. When Sierra, batting cleanup, walked in the eighth and trotted down to first base, he became part of the perfect picture of independent league baseball.

Leading off first was Sierra, a former all-star and MVP runner-up who, at 6-1 and 200 pounds, still looks like a major leaguer. Covering the bag for Somerset was Brian Traxler, a 5-10, 240-pound bulldozer who would not look out of place playing in your local firemen’s beer-ball league.

Speaking of beer, this is where Somerset goes big-league. The drafts on tap cover all the Lites – Miller, Bud, Coors and so on – but at heavy prices, $3.50 and $4.25. Sodas are $2, but for $3 you get a cup to keep. The fries and hot dogs (which Dave called, “pretty good”) cost $3. Our favorite were the tri-colored nachos, $3.25 with just a little spice to the cheese. Or if you feel like pizza, flag down one of the Domino’s vendors in the stands.

Next week I’ll cross the Outerbridge Crossing to the College of Staten Island, home – for now – of the Class A Staten Island Yankees.