WE'VE MOVED!!!!  Please click here and head to our new home, paulsballparks.com--then follow the handy-dandy menu to the ballpark you want so see!

    First off, before I get to the ballpark, I must settle a grudge.  This grudge is at least somewhat against orbitz.com and a little more against the Regency Inn Augusta.

    Yeah, I know...I decided to go for the cheap hotel ($30) in Augusta.  But I trusted Orbitz.  $30?  Cheap.  Maybe I'll get a cheap, clean, safe, utilitarian room, like a Motel 6 or Microtel or something...no sweat!  Not what I got. 

    Maybe I should have been clued in by the long-haired dude in the Harley T-shirt who worked the desk.  Would it kill him to dress professionally?  But whatever...different strokes and all that.  Maybe I should have been more suspicious of the chick-in-too-much-makeup-and-slutty-clothes who was leaning up to the window of a pickup truck in the parking lot.  But I went and gave the guy my $30.  I walked past the weed-ridden pool area, weed-ridden balcony, weed-ridden walls.  I checked out the brownish-yellow grout in the bathroom, the chipping-away sink.  I felt yucky.  I headed back out past the half-naked guys on cellphones on the balcony (there might have been six guys staying in the 148-room place) to go to the ballgame.  I noted that the too-much-makeup woman was now seated on the curb.  Waiting.  For something.  

    Well, I'd had it.  I was nervous from feeling yucky and even a little bit from dreading the possibly unsafe walk back to my room after the game.  So I called Orbitz to tell them I was disappointed that this place (a two-star place, no less...not a one-star!) was a place they had listed.  He called the manager to ask if he'd refund my money.  The manager refused.  The nice guy at Orbitz said he'd look into getting the Regency Inn removed from Orbitz.  But as of this writing, it's still there.  So, I must say this:

    DO NOT STAY AT THE REGENCY INN AUGUSTA.  It is scary and gross.  And while you're at it, you'd do well to use Expedia or Hotwire or such to book your hotels until Orbitz yanks that rathole from its otherwise-fine website. (There!  Now, if two people find this page while looking for a hotel in Augusta, and decide not to stay at the Regency, then the manager's decision not to refund my money will COST him money!  Email me if you were dissuaded from the Regency by reading this.  You'll make my day.)

    Okay.  I chalked up the $30 as lost to a learning experience, booked a new hotel to reduce my stress level, and headed out to Lake Olmstead Stadium.

    The ballpark is attractive on the exterior.  It feels newer than the 10 years old it is...they're obviously taking care of the ballpark.  It was the home opener that night, so the bunting added a festive touch.  It's located across the street from the actual Lake Olmstead, a lovely sportsman's spot for the Augusta area.  I wish the ballpark were a little closer to the lake, but that's rather nit-picky.  The ballpark is adjacent to a very poorly-maintained baseball field, which detracts a bit from the charm...surely either they or the city could spend a few bucks to get that field up to Little League condition so that kids could play right next to the grown-ups.

    Once inside the ballpark, I didn't notice a lot that showed me I was in Georgia, or even in the South.  Only the climate helped.  Still, the ballpark had some nice charm about it.  The visitors' pitchers sit about fifteen feet above the field just to the foul side of the right-field foul pole in sort of a spartan skybox.  No chance of heckling them, sure, but they probably have a nice view, and it's a nice visual for the rest of us.  

    The game event itself didn't do a whole lot for me.  I do believe that the nickname is one of the best in the minors--it marvelously incorporates what Augusta is most famous for into a nice pun with a suitable mascot.  Sting (will Gordon Sumner sue the GreenJackets to get his name back?) is one of only two mascots who has ever actually spoken to me.  You see, when I went to have my picture taken with him, I started up conversation.  I asked him what his name is.  He pointed to his gluteus maximus, where an insect's stinger would be.  I played along, lightly.  "Your name is Butt?  Rear end?  Tush?  Smells?"  I think the guy probably didn't like those jokes, because he leaned in to me, and in a basso profundo way deeper than his famous namesake's high tenor, said:  "Sting."  I told him I didn't think he was allowed to talk.  He shook his head no, and indicated to me that I should keep hush-hush about it.  Don't worry, Sting.  I won't tell anyone.  Except for whoever reads this.

    On the whole...pretty good.  A nice ballpark in many ways, but I can't say it blew me away, mostly due to a lack of local character.  I may go back someday, but I sure as hell won't stay at the Regency Inn.

    That's it for the ballpark review here...if you're only interested in the ballpark, you can skip down to "Ballpark Score" below.  But I wanted to write about an unrelated activity my buddy Rob turned me onto, and that is the pursuit of geographical anomalies.  The morning after this game, I had one of those in my sights.  As I looked closely at maps of Augusta, I learned that there's a tiny little chunk of Georgia that sticks out like a pimple into South Carolina east of the Savannah River, which otherwise forms the border between Georgia and South Carolina.  The deal is that the border between the states was set, I assume, in Colonial days...and the river's path has shifted since then, but the border remains the same.  (Note the satellite photo, which clearly shows the current river path on the left, the old path to the east of it, and the reservoirs of a paper mill just east of that.  That land between the old and new riverbanks--that's where I was headed.)  Since I had so enjoyed my sojourn with Rob to the MI-IN-OH tripoint and, later that day, to the Northeast corner of Indiana (Rob's account of those events is here and here, my account is here), I thought it was time for my first solo geographical-anomaly journey. 

    I crossed the Savannah into South Carolina on Highway 28 and decided to take the first available right to try to parallel the river.  Didn't work out so well...I turned into a South Carolina Electric & Gas site.  There, I encountered the guard, Mr. Jacobs.  It occurred to me that to have to guard something that nobody would ever want to break into must be a dreadfully dull way to make a living.  I might be the only guy he talked to that day.  He stopped my car, and I explained I was a geography buff, broke out the satellite photo, and showed him where I wanted to go.  He gave me directions to go back to highway 28 and turn right towards Beech Island, then right again past a Kimberly Clark mill.  Thanks, Mr. Jacobs.  I'm much obliged...your directions were perfect.

    Once past the Kimberly Clark plant, I crossed the railroad tracks that run northwest/southeast along the river...and smack into a "No Trespassing" sign.  I'd bet a big chunk of my next paycheck that nobody'd been there to check for trespassers in years, but I had a ballgame to get to in Asheville that night, and didn't want to chance missing it in the Aiken County Jail.  But a look at my map showed that I was just a hair south of where I needed to be.  The railroad track had a two-tire-track road just parallel to it, so I ran the rental car up it a touch.  I stopped and clambered down the riverbank in two locations.  I am absolutely 100% sure that the second stop was exactly perfect, and that these are photos of the anomaly from:

(1) across the riverbank,                                                         (2) once I was across the riverbank,

(3) along the railroad tracks (northwesterly bound and southeasterly bound, respectively) and

(5) my shoes, after I stupidly decided I could step across the riverbed with only minor mud damage.  (I sank in to mid-ankle.)

BALLPARK SCORE:

BASEBALL STUFF I'VE SEEN HERE:

    After taking the lead on an early Steve Mortimer home run, Savannah fell apart.  Brian Horwitz went 4-for-5 with two doubles.  Simon Klink went 3-for-5 with 3 RBI.  GreenJackets pitchers combined on a 4-hitter. 

    Sand Gnats manager Randy Knorr was ejected--he thought Marvin Lowrance's foul ball was actually a home run.  Lowrance reached on an error and eventually scored anyway.  All that yelling and the play didn't make any difference.  But dude, check out his post-ejection expression!  Combination sulk/pout! 

Next stadium (chronologically)

Back to minor league stadiums page

To Major League stadiums page

Email me

Written May 2005.