WFNY On Location: Spring Training 2016

The first thing you notice is the cacti. They rarely look as symmetrical and green as their cartoon counterparts, but the abrasive plants populate the hillsides, front lawns, and side streets of seemingly every corner of the greater Phoenix area. For a midwestern kid, they are an agricultural anomaly and sure sign we are in Arizona. My family, fiancé, and I have flown into the Grand Canyon State to watch our beloved Cleveland Indians play a few spring training games in the desert. A long winter has generated gnawing anticipation for the coming baseball season, and the prospect of eighty plus degree weather is too good to pass up. On Monday morning we gear up in Wahoo red, white, and blue then head out to the ballpark.

The Indians and Cincinnati Reds share Goodyear Ballpark. The small field is hidden back from the main road, surrounded by ample parking and dusty ground. We arrive early and line up outside the front gate among a mix of Texas Rangers and Tribe fans waiting to enter the ballpark. Images of

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famous players cover the walls – Omar, Thome, Lofton for Cleveland; Morgan, Rose, Bench for Cincy. The concessions offer a few touches of home beyond standard ballpark fare. A visiting Clevelander could get a Polish Boy while a Queen City resident could sample a Skyline Chili Coney. The team shop sells both Bertman’s Stadium Mustard and Montgomery Inn BBQ sauce. They certainly know their audience.

Goodyear feels like a minor league ballpark. A wide open concourse as well as ample lawn seating in right and left field give plenty of ways to watch the game. The action on the field can sometimes feel secondary to the fanfare surrounding it. A small whiffle ball field hides beyond the right field foul pole where kids (or I’m told by one usher more than a few “kids at heart”) can play free of charge before or during the game. Cornhole boards litter the third base line grandstands along with various carnival blow up stands to guess your speed or improve your accuracy. My younger brother Alex and I play catch in the blinding sun, incredulous that March weather would demand shirtsleeves and shorts. A Rangers fan roughly twelve years of age walks over and asks if he can join us. We oblige and immediately see that he is clearly better and more graceful than both of us. Baseball is a young man’s game.

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Well before the first pitch, Tribe fans gather down the first base line seeking an audience from their heroes. Some autograph hounds come prepared with a binder full of pages missing Sharpie adornment. One woman recognizes a player as he approaches, pulls out his baseball card, clacks it onto a clipboard, and extends it for a signature. Francisco Lindor signs a few collectibles for fans, seeming to be both a kid and veteran presence simultaneously. TJ House comes over and personalized a coaster I’m holding. He’s tall and kind, making polite small talk with the patrons. We wish him well and he ambles on to the dugout. Everyone wants to chat with manager Terry Francona who stands a good thirty feet away. Calls of “Skipper!” and “Tito!” do nothing to attract his gaze. A woman from Medina adjacent to me wonders what he could be doing that is more important than signing our programs. We both laugh knowingly.

My party and I take our seats to see Carlos Carrasco dressed as Ricky “Wild Thing” Vaughn from “Major League” fame run in from the left field bullpen to deliver the ceremonial game ball. The Troggs’ anthem plays and the crowd eats it up with a spoon. The game begins and Corey Kluber takes the bump. He looks sharp, fanning four in his four innings of work. Normally I keep score at all baseball games I attend, but the number of defensive substitutions and pinch hitters soon proves overwhelming and I leave my scorecard incomplete. My youngest brother, Brian, rises to the challenge and manages to capture all the personnel moves on his card.

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Spring training score keeping is clearly not for the faint of heart.

Perhaps the most striking aspect of the crowd is how placated they appear. No one cat calls an opponent or boos an on-field failure. We yell out “Charge” when prompted, but it feels perfunctory more than organic. Everyone simply seems satisfied to be out at the ballpark on March 15 without fear of wind, snow, hail, or rain.

Holly, my fiancé, and I ambulate around the ballpark, pausing to make camp in the right field grass. Out here the smaller children have room to roam, sing, and definitively determine how much cotton candy they can fit in their mouths. The parents give them a long leash, feeding off their joy and basking in it as much as the sun. The concourse is populated with the expected Indians and Rangers memorabilia, but one constantly sees a mix of White Sox, Dodgers, Giants, Mariners, Astros, and Reds. Allegiance matters little in the Arizona spring with the simple notice “Game Today” at the box office is enough to draw in a crowd.

The Indians play well, and emerge victorious 4-2. By the end, few patrons recognize the players on the field and smaller number than that will actually make the 25-man roster. But they play hard and wear our colors so for a day at least they are our Tribe.

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On Tuesday, Cleveland completed its Texas two-step by venturing up Route 101 to Surprise Stadium, home of the Rangers and World Champion Kansas City Royals. That accomplishment is not lost on the park’s decorations who greet all paying customers with a formidable sign announcing Kansas City’s triumphs.

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The ballpark here feels grander, more spacious. There is an unmistakable horse racing feel to the layout as if part of the main grandstand was copied and pasted from Churchill Downs.

The red, white, and blue bunting provides pageantry and the bright white paint on the facades betray a formality that clashes sharply with the sunburned, sweaty tourists. We again journey to the bottom of the stands to seek autographs. Minor league invitee James Ramsey humors us with a few signatures. Instead of writing his number after his name he scribbles the shorthand for a Bible quote. Looking around it’s apparent everyone got a different book, chapter, and verse. I have never before seen a player sign his name in that fashion, but it is a memorable calling card.

Typical Texas food is available – Barbeque and ribs join the standard hot dog and nachos on the menu. Carlos Carrasco starts for Cleveland. He struggles a bit, giving up a line drive homer to Prince Fielder in the third inning. As Fielder rounds the bases the final song from “The Natural” plays which creates a theatrical backdrop to the home run trot. I don’t know how opponents would receive that song in a regular season game, but I welcomed its inclusion in these circumstances.

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The Indians are not playing their normal lineup today, so we get to learn about Shane Robinson, Robbie Grossman, and Guillermo Quiroz. If anything these players’ anonymity makes them more likeable, as if they can more closely relate the fans in the stands. The Rangers bats wake up and end up beating the Indians, 5-4. Still, homers from Gio Urshela and Michael Martinez give Clevelanders a reason to leave smiling.

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I would recommend spring training to any baseball fan in America. Beyond the gorgeous weather and excuse to get outside, it is just a fundamentally different baseball experience. The game won’t appear in the standings so there is no pressure on anyone. Players seem especially excited to be there and happily commune with fans. The small ballparks create an intimacy that simply does not exist from the 300 level of an MLB facility. Perhaps most importantly you can see the joy in everyone involved.

Before Tuesday’s game I was near the front entrance to Surprise Stadium when I saw the door open on the external clubhouse beyond the concessions. A Kansas City Royals coach walked out in full uniform holding a bag of potato chips and stood at the fence. The Royals would play the Reds in Goodyear later that night, but for the moment the players were together eating lunch. The coach stood nearby and chatted with a few fans. He was just so pleased to be there and be near the game he wanted to pop out and see the Rangers and Indians warm up. Now you could of course argue that he was scouting the Tribe since those clubs will meet 19 times in 2016.

There may be something to that, but for a moment in the Arizona sun, he was simply a fan at the ballpark having a snack and watching the kids play ball. That image stuck with me as we drove back to the hotel, chasing the setting sun. The cacti, of course, were everywhere.