I'm not positive about this, since I haven't
looked up the populations of all 220 minor-league cities, but I'm fairly sure
that Princeton, West Virginia is the smallest town with an affiliated minor
league baseball team. My American
Map atlas lists its population as only
6,000. All the more impressive that it supports a minor league club.
I didn't get much of a feel for the town, but
it was obvious that it was small enough that the Devil Rays are HUGE here.
The town's newspaper, the Princeton Times, is only a weekly, and in the
copy I bought, Devil Rays news covered most of the 20-ish pages. The
front-page photo, above the fold, celebrated the Devil Rays' victory of the
Mercer Cup, a trophy which goes to the winner of the season series between the
P-Rays and the Bluefield Orioles just down the road. (It's worth noting
that the Orioles, while they represent Bluefield, play just
across
the border in Virginia, in what might be the ballpark closest to a state
border).
The ballpark itself isn't in any kind of
unique location, and does very little to let me know where I am. The view
outside of the ballpark includes a Wendy's and a McDonald's. There aren't
any mountains or other landmarks that let me know I'm in West Virginia or
Appalachia. So I was prepared to give it a low "is there any question
where you are" score, which would have doomed the ballpark to a poor score.
However, the workers for the Devil Rays gave me a whole lot of small-town
hospitality, and since I was in the smallest town in the minor leagues, they get
a lot of credit for that.
It all started with my
Everett AquaSox cap. There is nothing in common between the AquaSox
and the D-Rays save a love of colors in the bluish-green family.
They do not share geography, a league, an affiliation, or much else. But
the guy who offered me a 50-50 raffle ticket looked at my hat and said "Everett
AquaSox?" Nice! I love minor league workers who are knowledgeable
about the minor leagues...it makes the whole experience into a celebration of
minor league ball.
Later that night, I headed out to meet Rob
and Yolonda in the large-but-nondescript pavilion area (Rob was late to the game
due to a horrendous cut-lip-on-broken-beer-bottle mishap in the pregame).
While out there, I saw the man I took to be one of the higher-ups at the
ballpark. I was right--it was the general manager, Jim Holland.
"Everett AquaSox!" he said to me. I said I was impressed, and that they
were my home team. A conversation ensued where I told him that Rob and I
were trying
to
make it out to a lot of minor league parks. His response: "You look
like one of those people." Indeed, if "those people" are ballpark
travelers, I am one. I just wasn't aware there was a look about us.
(My guess is "dorky-looking.") In exchange for my troubles, he offered me
a free shot with the sledge-hammer at the "Hit a Car, Not a Pet" junker car.
I took a swing, and he offered me several more. I'm basically a
non-violent man, but it was nice to get any potential axe-murdering instincts I
might have out of my system. They gave Rob some free shots too.
Here's one of them:
The fans were quite sweet. There were
loads of middle-aged ladies waving handbells around. Jim told me
they were called the "Rah-Rah Sisterhood." I got the sense
that a good number of them
were host families or friends of the D-Rays players, and in a town of 6,000, it
wouldn't surprise me in the least if players regularly encountered a healthy
fraction of
townspeople. I could feel that.
And where else other than a town with only
Christian bookstores would the primary mascot be Roscoe the Drug-Free Rooster?
Roscoe wandered around giving hugs to just about everyone in attendance.
He headed up in my direction and hugged me. I talked to him, saying "How
are you?" Much to my surprise, Roscoe talked back to me. "I'm fine,
how are you doing?" His accent was slow and
sweet
as syrup. I don't know why, but that made me feel especially good on this
night.
The ballpark itself had some interesting
quirks. A walk behind the stands reveals two nice places to stand.
First, down the third base line, a spectator can walk to a vantage point where
he/she can peer backwards into the visitors' dugout (not unlike
Battle Creek's C.O. Brown Stadium) or right at the
bullpen. Underneath the home plate stands there is a wonderful little
vista featuring a bench that, as best as I could figure, anybody could
occupy--although it appeared spoken for by a couple of regulars. They
honor past P-Rays who have moved on to the big club with pictures on the
outfield wall. And I recommend the fried bologna sandwich, although don't
get caught making the same assumption I did. I thought
the
"fried" applied to the whole sandwich...that they were taking the entire
sandwich and dipping in the deep fryer beside the french fries, kind of like
Elvis with his peanut butter and banana sandwiches. That
didn't turn out to be the case. Instead, they had just fried the bologna.
Pretty good stuff...tasted like ring baloney.
By the end of the night, I really had a
positive feeling about the ballpark. I came close to winning a hundred
bucks by throwing a tennis ball into a hula hoop (a fairly tough task...the
stands are very, very high above the field, and the hula hoop was well out onto
the field...but I just came up a few inches short, way closer than anyone else).
Jim, on the field, let us go by saying "We love you!" The cool thing is, after a
cool night of baseball, I felt like he meant it. And when we passed him by
on the way out and he wished us safe travels...yes, he remembered us...well, I
guess it was confirmed.
So, on the whole, the ballpark has just
enough charm, quirkiness, and sweetness to win me over in spite of its
drawbacks. If I make it back there, probably to visit Bluefield, I
wouldn't mind seeing Hunnicutt Field again.
BALLPARK SCORE:
Regional feel:
6/10
The view from the
seating bowl is dull, and could be in nearly any of the fifty states.
But the fried bologna sandwiches and the small-town hospitality bump the
score up a bit.
Charm:
4.5/5
All over the
place.
Promotions:
4/5
We missed the
"everybody gets in free" promotion by 24 hours, which is a bummer, and
the "Christian Baseball Night" theme is a little strange, and would be
more so if
I were of another faith. But, all things considered, I did come
close to winning a hundred bucks and got to swing a sledgehammer at a
car.
Team mascot/name:
3/5
Roscoe the Drug-Free Rooster and me. The Devil
Rays name is appropriate in line with the Appalachian League naming
convention.
Mascot interaction:
5/5
The
middle-aged-or-older man's voice that came from that beak was so sweet
that no human being can possibly resist. And I think he got
quality time in with every fan.
Pavilion area:
3/5
Not terribly
picturesque, but I liked the sledge-hammer-and-car.
Scoreability:
3/5
A few minor
slip-ups.
Fans:
4/5
Intangibles:
4.5/5
On the whole, the
night was wonderful. Any game that ends with the GM saying "We
love you!" and me not being creeped out by it is a winner.
TOTAL:
37/50
BASEBALL STUFF I'VE SEEN HERE:
The Astros' balanced attack includes
two RBI each from Brandon Caipen, Ralph Henriquez, and Andrew Darnell.
Andrew Lopez hits three doubles and
drives in two in a losing effort.