A Road Trip with Snappy

We took a little road trip, family stuff, not real bloggable material.  But on the way back we took a break in Beloit Wisconsin.   

A few slices of Americana, late June 2018.

We picked Beloit because I wanted to see the Beloit Snappers.  I've always liked the team name and their mascot, Snappy D. Turtle. When we had checked in to the hotel my wife asked at the desk if they had any special ticket deals.  The manager was new and had never heard of the Snappers but half an hour later he called our room and said he had arranged a pair of comped tickets right behind home plate!  Goes to show you can talk your way into most anything in this world.  It probably was useful karmic help that right after our arrival another guest turned up.  He was the Manager of Minor League Operations for the Snapper's parent major league club.  A guy who can absolutely get you some free box seat tix.

You would think a half century or so of baseball fandom would mean that for me there is nothing new under the lights.  Ah... but not so.  This is so far down in the minor leagues that there are many unexpected little touches.

I had never before seen an umpire and catcher shake hands at the beginning of a game.  If I've been at a game where there was only a single bat boy - switching sides of the field between half innings - I don't recall it.  And for sure an experience I had when visiting the Gents was new.  Behind me I heard the distinctive heavy tread of cleated footwear.  One of the Peoria players had come in to use the facilities.  If there even was a Visitor's Clubhouse it must have been an inconvenient walk away from the playing field.  Who knows, I might have missed my awkward autograph opportunity for a future Hall of Famer!

Suffice it to say that this level of play does not have a Jumbotron screen.  Entering the park you have line ups posted with marker pen and tape.

There were other little oddities.  Of course we all stood and doffed caps for the National Anthem.  But the person singing it did not realize that her microphone did not work.  My wife and I looked at each other and decided to sing along, just to give the gal a bit of help.  But I tend to hop registers trying to get a bit of harmony going and eventually she gave me the spousal elbow.  I think we Midwestern types are just averse to standing out, and she probably wondered how I was going to handle that really high note towards the end...

The game was not very exciting.  In the low minors the players are just limited.  The pitchers tend to rear back and fire without subtlety.  The batters are usually not able to execute basic things like a sacrifice bunt.  The home team was down 4-1 when we decided to call it a night in the top of the 8th inning.  

As we walked out of the park my wife teased me for parking so far away.  I was worried you see about a foul ball taking out our windshield.  No sooner were these words spoken than an errant foul ball flew out of the stadium and rolled to a stop at my feet.  A half century of baseball fandom and this was the first foul ball to find its way to me.