WEB EXCLUSIVE

 

August 26, 2000

Baseball in the Land 
of Pure Possibility

By DAN ACKMAN

 

If you take a ride on the Staten Island Ferry and then board the S-62 bus, and ride it to the end, and then walk east another half mile or so, you will see something that may surprise you: a field of dreams.

 

For the last two seasons the Staten Island Yankees, late of Watertown, NY, have been playing games at the field on the College of Staten Island.  The college is green enough, the city distant enough, the players youthful enough, that on a summer night you can feel a thousand miles away.  If you close your eyes you could be in Batavia.

 

But soon it will be gone like Brigadoon.  The Yankees, like the Mets with a minor league club in Queens, will be moving to a brand new multi-million dollar stadium near the St. George terminal overlooking New York Harbor.  Until then, they will be inland, in the heart of the borough that still retains aspects of a small town, even since Mr. Moses built his long bridge across the narrows.

 

In living memory, there had been no minor league baseball in the five boroughs.  But in recent years several minor league teams have located in nearby parts of Long Island and New Jersey.  These teams are "independent," meaning they are not apart of a major league organization.  They pay their own players and can locate anywhere.

 

Major League teams have the right to control what affliated minor league clubs play in their territories.  But the prospect of further encroachment by outsiders led the Yankees and Mets to agree to  each allow one minor league team in the five boroughs.  

 

The Yankees approached Stan Getzler, who owned a Cleveland Indians affiliate that was languishing near the Canadian border.  A group led by Mets owner Fred Wilpon bought a Toronto Blue Jays team based in St. Catherine, Ontario, and moved it to Queens.  Next year it will be renamed the Cyclones and will play in a city-built stadium in Coney Island. The Staten Island Yankees will move into a brand new park near the St. Georges ferry terminal.

 

The Mets-Yankees deal is to allow ‘short season’ Single A teams into the city.  This is the second lowest level of professional baseball so the threat to the big clubs would be minimal.

 

In fact, the atmosphere at is as hostile as a baby golden retriever.  Kids roam the stands and get to mingle with the players.  Many of their parents know their neighbors in the next row, who may also be their neighbors in Arlington or Linden Park.  The concession area has the air of a country fair.

 

If anyone does have a problem, he can take it up Mr. Getzler, who is always available in his seat behind home plate.  This is not an approach likely to work with George Steinbrenner.  

 

Some of the more visible fans occupy the stands behind third base.  These are members of the Mitch Seoane Fan Club.  Mr. Seoane is the Yankees’ third base coach, who has attracted his own club for no other reason than “he’s a good guy,” in the words of club president Rick Spitso, the principal of Intermediate School 24 on Staten Island.

 

Mr. Spitso, like most of the fans watching the team the Staten Island Advance calls “Our Yanks,” says he comes to the minor league games rather than schlep up to Yankee Stadium, not just because of Mr. Seoane, though that’s part of it, but because of “the camaraderie” and “where else do you get to know the owner’s family.”  

 

The surest way to get into the Mitch Seoane Fan Club is be part of Mr. Spitso’s family.  The vice president, Joe Kotowicz, a Verizon field technician, is Mr. Spitso’s nephew.  Mr. Kotowicz father and two brothers are also in the club.  But so are the two beer girls who serve the third base stands and so are the Getzlers.  They even allowed in Bob Catherwood, a retired postal technician, and and an admitted Mets fan.

 

It’s fashionable to scoff at Single A baseball as “two steps above high school.”  While this is literally true, they are awfully big steps.  Even the average player on the team is likely to be a far better ballplayer than the average high school has seen in a long, long time.

 

“There are guys right on the verge of being great players,” said Mitch Jones, who may be one of them.  An outfielder from Orem, Utah, Jones, 22, starred at Arizona State University before signing with the Yankees.  Like the other players on the team, he was a superstar at every level and now has to adjust to being one of the guys.  It’s not unlike the most talented singer that the local drama teacher has ever seen coming to the city and struggling to get seen for a small part off-Broadway.

 

The difference is most minor leaguers learn their trade in towns like Oneonta, Jamestown, or Pittsfield, not 10 miles from the World Trade Center.  The difference between being a minor leaguer in New York City compared to Williamsport is, well, probably mostly the pitching.

 

Asked the difference between New York City and Medicine Hat, one member of the Queens Kings had this to say: “Here, everyone throws harder, and they have more command of the breaking pitches.”

 

Minor league ballplayers here, as elsewhere, are consumed by the game.  They play a 76-game schedule, get to the ballpark early, and leave late.  During the season, they get just two days off, one of which many spent sightseeing.  On the other, they went to watch a ballgame at Yankee Stadium.    

 

The players tend to sleep late, maybe lift weights, and head for the ballpark.  After the game, they may get something to eat, or they may ride the bus until dawn, the life of the minor leaguers at all levels everywhere.  What about after the season?  Most have plans for winter ball in places like Venezuela of the instructional league in Florida.  During the season they earn as little as $850 per month.  On the other hand, they are early enough in their baseball lives that they all still have a real chance at “the show.”

 

Some of the players have become true New Yorkers.  “There’s just a lot more to do here than other places.  Manhattan is right at your fingertips right on the other side of the ocean [that is New York Harbor].  You have the opportunity do a lot of things,” said Dave Parrish, a catcher from Yorba Linda, Calif., one of the team’s top prospects, and the son of Detroit Tigers star Lance Parrish.  Parrish may not visit museums or browse in quirky bookshops, but he does get a kick out of the fact that they’re there.

 

In Staten Island, they appreciate Mr. Parrish.  John Bruno, a court officer, was the first person to buy tickets to see the team.  A lifelong Islander and Yankee fan, he went to the stadium the day before tickets went on sale, and handcuffed his lawn chair to the door of his van to secure his place in line.  “The best thing to happen to Staten Island in a long time,” he said.  

 

Mr. Bruno, who used to drive to the Bronx for baseball, also appreciates the minor league prices.  A man who know his way around a concession stand, he noted that for $5 you can get a hot dog a bag of chips and a soda.  Plus: free parking.

 

Bruno like many of the teams die-hards has gotten joined the booster club—“It’s like a fan club,” he explains—and has gotten to know the players at barbecues, as has his son.  “Not one player has ever turned down an autograph,” he said.

 

The New York Yankees have won three of the last four World Series.  The Mets are real contenders this year.  These teams, with their hundred million dollar payrolls, are here and now.  But the players in Staten Island exist is a world of pure possibility.  And isn’t that what summer and baseball are all about?