Given the temperature increasing at an almost exponential rate, there is little doubt that it's springtime here in Arizona. With that comes one of Arizona's longest and most revered traditions, spring training baseball.
Newcomers and out-of-state students might not appreciate this as much, but us long-time Arizonans know that at one point (those halcyon days of, say, 1997 and earlier) spring training was the only chance for most of us to see major league baseball.
When the Diamondbacks came along in 1998, a lot of the prestige of the Cactus League faded, given that big league games were now readily accessible for at least six or so months of the year. Yet there is no doubt that the Cactus League experience is unique.
The biggest aspect of the Cactus League is its intimacy. Most of the ballparks hold only a few thousand people, with only a fraction of those seats taken during the weekday games. This gives you a unique chance to interact with some of baseball's biggest names and also an innumerable number of minor leaguers and non-roster invitees you'll never hear from again. For example, if you didn't like how Tim Salmon performed last year, this is your chance to go down to Tempe Diablo Stadium (just minutes away from the ASU campus) and tell him in person (not that I would ever encourage that type of behavior).
The players are often readily accessible before, after and even during the games for autographs and general jaw jacking.
One of the highlights of my personal experience happened when Art Howe took over as manager of the Oakland A's in 1996. I was able to tell him that I was a lifelong A's fan and wished him luck in his new reign as manager. He simply said "Stick with us, kid, it's gonna be a long season." He was right.
Another advantage of the Cactus League is the sense of community that has developed between the fans in attendance. Unlike the gentrified, upper-middle class scene at Bank One Ballpark - which is often populated by social climbers, soccer moms and young urban professionals - you know that someone at Hohokam Park in the middle of the day watching a split squad game between the Brewers and the Cubs is probably a pretty hardcore baseball fan. You can learn a lot from these guys.
Best of all, we spring trainers look out for each other. One of my fondest memories of spring training happened in 2002, when I headed over to Scottsdale Stadium to see the Mariners, fresh off their 116-win season, take on the Giants, fresh off Barry Bonds' record breaking 73 jimmy-jacks. To my dismay, the game was actually sold out. I sulked around the perimeter of the ballpark, hoping to find a ticket, perhaps from a scalper or perhaps on the ground in a pile of garbage. Out of nowhere, an angel with a beer gut and a "Big Johnson" tank top appeared to me, offering me an extra ticket he had - for free!
When spring training is not free, it's definitely affordable. Although some box seats can cost more than $20, the key is to get really cheap bleacher or lawn seats and then move down to better seats when no one's looking (again, not that I would ever encourage such a thing).
I recommend that everyone check out at least one game this March, if not for the reasons I've listed, then maybe to check out Garth Brooks "trying out" for the Kansas City Royals for the fourth year in a row as part of a charity benefit. Also, I hear that Chris Gaines has a mean forkball.
Albert Ching is the gut in the Big Johnson shirt sitting in the field box and heckling Tim Salmon. Reach him at albertxii@hotmail.com.
