With next year's Spring Training in doubt with MLB's Collective Bargaining Agreement expiring after the World Series--a lockout of players looming if the owners don't get more of what they want toward a salary cap--we made our reservations for an AirBnB in the desert for the last week in February the other day.
The dreams began, as I bought tickets for the Cubbies and Sloan Park (a personal favorite) on a weekday, when the multitudinous Chicago fans won't be flying in for the weekend yet with their untanned white legs in shorts above work shoes. The beautiful venue worked great last year, when parking lot attendants shuttled my wife and me right to the steps of the stadium on a busy, busy night.
It's about being at a Spring game, enjoying the sounds of the ballpark, the smell of hotdogs, ball against wooden bat. Doesn't matter where, as "hope springs eternal" before the season starts and every team is even with an undefeated record.
I never went to Spring Training as a child--my dad wasn't into sports, and my mom, with my dad both supportive though not tuned into the Arizona activity (nor did it exist the way it does now, with 15 teams in 10 ballparks--a switch from the 60's when almost all teams trained in Florida). But nostalgia reigns, and names like Babe Ruth, Jackie Robinson, even Frank Robinson and Greg Maddux coming back into play and conversation. (Josh Gibson, "Cool Papa" Bell, and Satchel Paige were pretty cool, too.)
On the weekend in the middle of the week in the Valley of the Sun, we'll juggle visits with close friends and 1 p.m. (Mountain Time) ballgames at various parks throughout the valley. The friendship angle has really kicked in for my wife, who couldn't care less if they used metal bats or wooden bats. One couple lives in Gilbert, directly south of Mesa, where the Cubs will be located.
But Sloan Park will be jammed on the weekend, so we'll probably opt for Salt River Fields for the Rockies or Diamondbacks. On another weekday, we'll drive back west to Goodyear Park, where the Reds and Guardians play--last year we found a wonderful counter for handicapped near the top of the stands, in the shade, a metal surface to lay our treats on while we relax and enjoy the ambience.
Plus parking isn't horrible at Goodyear, since Ohio fans don't travel the way zillions of Illinois fans do, and they're not a big draw in greater Phoenix--more like a private club. Easy access, ease of mind.
In past years, when I went to Spring Training solo, I would drive up the 17 toward Flagstaff to visit the Native American ruins at Tuzigoot. I remember ice and frost on the ground, as I went before the later-March heat and early in the morning, to catch a fresh day.
Hole-in-the-Rock in Papago Park in Phoenix is fun, watching families scale their way up two paths to either the right or left, up and around the rocks to come out on top--with a view over the distance of all the communities surrounding Phoenix.
I often went to a retreat spot, that featured a spiritual labyrinth and a quiet that allowed one to listen and think: the lone dog barking in the early morning from the houses surrounding the back of the retreat center, no crowds, a quiet vigil or mass conducted by solemn priests. A place to regain your soul, to hear the still, small voice. Rare in this age of cellphones and other devices.
Lots of memories, and hopefully a lot more to come.
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