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CALLING SIGNALS |
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 BUCKY FOX ...on the job in Florida |
Prelude to a baseball year:
Bucky at spring training
of TheColumnists.com
As the Lakers sink in the West, time to get a rise in the East.
So goodbye, L.A. basketball. Hello, Florida baseball.
Last year I escaped to spring training in Arizona, home of the Cactus League. This March I tried the juicier climes of Florida, home of the Grapefruit League. Not that anyone eats grapefruit anymore, but the moniker sounds fresh.
And that’s what Florida spring training showed off: healthy, old-school baseball.
From Kissimmee to Clearwater
to Vero Beach, baseball felt like something out of the 1950s.
The ballparks seated fans close to the players. The scoreboards
simply kept score. The players treated fans respectfully.
Kissimmee: Baseball players in the land of the
real? This is the same sport that stars Randy Johnson, he of
“don’t talk back to me” fame.
Yes, on the same field that featured Arrogant Randy in his new Yankee garb, another player displayed major league friendliness.
The site was Kissimmee, near Orlando, and home to the Houston Astros. This was the first stop on my spring swing, and it wasn’t easy getting in. That’s what happens when the Yankees--one of America’s three national teams, along with the Red Sox and Cubs--come to town.
Yet I found a standing-room-only ticket. And saw Johnson and the Yankees handle Houston easily. But years from now I won’t remember the 8-2 score.
I’ll remember this: As fans filed out after the last out, a guy spotted a ball resting on the backstop netting. The fan lofted his glove and jarred the ball loose.
The rawhide landed in the hands of Royce Huffman, a career minor leaguer trying to make the Astros as a catcher. He obviously still has humility. Rather than forget the glove-tossing fan, Huffman walked across the plate to the dugout, spotted the guy and threw him the ball.
As my buddy, the golf writer Ed Schmidt, said, “There’s still humanity after all.”
Clearwater: On the west coast of Florida near Tampa, the Philadelphia Phillies sport a sharp home called Bright House Networks Field. So what if it’s named after a cable TV firm? That has to be the happiest stadium title in sports.
The field looked a lot brighter when the rain stopped. And when Marlon Byrd started banging hits. He amassed three in the Phillies’ 10-8 victory over the Toronto Blue Jays.
Better than the game was the company. I watched with Warren Stanley and his son, Doug, pals from our former lives in Germany. That’s where the Stanleys coached U.S. Air Force teams to Europe-wide titles in baseball, basketball and football.
Now Warren lives in Clearwater and Doug in San Antonio. And do they ever know baseball. Ask them about the 1950s catcher who wore glasses, and they tell you: Clint Courtney of the St. Louis Browns.
On this day, the Stanleys and I almost had a ball. Two fouls landed feet from us. If we had Courtney’s glasses, we might’ve snagged them.
Vero Beach: Off to the east coast of Florida. Now this is spring training. Dodgertown. Palm trees. Retirees.
One of those who enjoys the sun all day is Neil Stalter. He relaxes in Vero after decades helping call the shots at Kodak and Campbell’s. I’m lucky to know him through a colleague, and we did Dodgertown right: seats near the grass for the Oriole game, hot dogs and the seventh-inning stretch.
Holman Stadium is such a throwback, you could barely hear “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” on the speakers.
Which was fine. We simply turned up our own volume, Harry Caray style.
And watched the Dodgers avenge the 1966 World Series by beating Baltimore 7-5.
OK, so this wasn’t even the regular season. L.A. fans still had plenty to cheer, particularly at third base, which no longer employs mega-talented Adrian Beltre. His successor, Jose Valentin, homered. As did Mike Edwards, a lock to star at the hot corner way after Valentin leaves the team.
Three towns, three games.
Soon I was back in Los Angeles watching the losing Lakers. I should’ve stayed in Florida.
©2005 by Bucky Fox. This column first posted March 28, 2005.
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