Jeanne Meinke
"No one who lives here is from here," she pointed out. "And you're the same, still moping about the Dodgers leaving for California 100 years ago."
Yesterday I was told
the trouble with America is that
these kids here
would rather be DiMaggio
than Byron: this shows our decadence
But I don't know
there's not that much difference
Byron also would have married Monroe
or at least been in there trying…
The Rays got off to a slow start this season, and I surprised myself by giving a fig, having long ago weaned myself from caring about the fates of grown men getting overpaid for whacking a little ball. But the team was struggling so valiantly — with the shaky fate of their stadium, the departure of tainted Manny, losing their first six games, poor attendance — I felt an affection for them not experienced since I was a young baseball fan in Brooklyn. So I was happy when they started to turn around and play some exciting ball, like last year's team. I hope the attendance turns around, too, but it's hard to be optimistic.
On our walk this morning, Jeanne — who up to then had hidden any deep interest in baseball — said it's obvious why Rays fans get outnumbered even in their home park. "No one who lives here is from here," she pointed out. "And you're the same, still moping about the Dodgers leaving for California 100 years ago."
Well, I'm not that old. It was just 1957, and when the team moved to Los Angeles, like the Pied Piper it led the Giants out of the Polo Grounds to San Francisco, leaving the Yankees behind to gobble up all those fans. But Jeanne's right: the difference between L.A., San Francisco and Tampa Bay is that the first two aren't populated by snowbirds from Chicago (Go Cubs!), Detroit (Yay Tigers!) and Minneapolis (Rock'em Twins!), not to mention the Yankee fans, who outnumber everyone else, especially if you add in anti-Yankee fans, who attend games to root against them, like a juiced-up battery with plus and minus poles.
The fan problem with the Rays is similar to the problem faced by the "financially troubled" Florida Orchestra (they're both on the low salary edge of their professions, though the musicians get paid a heap less than the ballplayers): they've got a small solid base, but how can they hook the youngsters into becoming regular paying customers?
With the Orchestra, in these tough economic times, the prevalence of white hair in the audience makes one think they could just reverse the usual practice of "senior discounts" and give everyone under 60 a "junior discount." With the Rays, it's a bit more complicated.
In Brooklyn, every boy played baseball, or the city substitute, stickball, in the streets, swinging broomsticks at a rubber ball — very good for developing hand-eye coordination, as Willie Mays testified. But now young people, boys and girls, play and follow soccer, tennis, basketball, and even golf: This is a good thing, except for a young baseball team trying to build a fan base. The only real hope might be to get the kids to watch baseball on TV, which they apparently watch about 30 hours per week anyway.
But maybe, if they could just hop on a tram or a train to the stadium, they would come. Governor Scott, are you listening?
And on the other hand you
have to admit that DiMag played
sweet music
out there in the magic grass
of centerfield
—Both quotes from "Byron vs. DiMaggio" by Peter Meinke, in Liquid Paper, 1991)
This article appears in May 5-11, 2011.