Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: MONDAY, August 29, 1994 TAG: 9408290076
SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: A1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: RAY COX STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
The clock on the training room wall in the Salem Municipal Field clubhouse read 2:30 p.m. sharp Sunday, and Reed Secrist of the Salem Buccaneers was propped on an elbow on the training table watching Nebraska and West Virginia play the first college football game of the season.
Secrist was the first of the Bucs players to arrive, and he had some time to kill.
The wear and tear of his occupation - backup catcher - had messed up his left (glove) thumb and he needed trainer Rod Lich to work on it.
``I'd thought it was quarter of three when I got here,'' Secrist said. ``Really, it was quarter of two.''
Lich had been there since about 1:30, straightening up and getting ready for the arrival of players in various stages of disrepair.
``I've been chilling out, changing trash can liners,'' he said. ``I got most everything I had to do done last night.''
Bucs manager Trent Jewett had been in the cramped clubhouse office since 12:30. Pitching coach Dave Rajsich arrived 35 minutes later, just like on any Carolina League game day.
Only this particular game day was different. This was the last one at venerable Municipal Field, built in 1927.
Jewett, for one, was in no sentimental mood after going through the statistics, filling out a lineup card for the night's game with the Lynchburg Red Sox, talking on the phone and writing up a couple of player evaluations on the computer sitting on his desk.
``No, I won't miss this place,'' said Jewett, who worked here previously as a not-going-to-the-big leagues catcher. ``This isn't where I want to end up. I've been through so many ballparks in so many cities. They all run together.''
Jewett may not be back here next year. Like his Class A players, his goal is to move up through the organization to the next level. He won't know that until fall. In any event, this is his last day at this office, at least this year. He'll leave after the final series at Winston-Salem Sunday and head for Raleigh, where he'll join the Class AA Carolina Mudcats for the Southern League playoffs.
Rajsich was going through his pitching charts and sorting out baseballs, some to be used in the bullpen, others for batting practice, others for the game.
``In this place, we're always needing balls,'' he said. ``We probably lose 30 a day getting hit out of here in batting practice by both teams. I bet the neighborhood kids will be sorry to see us go.''
``The neighborhood homeowners won't,'' Jewett said.
At that point, Lich came to say that there had been an accident in the parking lot. Catcher Marcus Hanel's parents had dropped him off, and as his mother was getting out of the car, his father ran over her foot. Jewett listened to this with jaw agape.
``Her foot doesn't look too good,'' Lich said. ``It's already starting to swell.''
``You can tell he's not talking about a player,'' Jewett said. ``If he were, then there would be nine or 10 things that were wrong and the player's about to die.''
The next arrival is organizational infield instructor Rocky Bridges. Rajsich is discussing pitching.
``Pitchers: I don't like 'em,'' Bridges said. ``I couldn't hit 'em, so [unsavory verb] 'em.''
``That pretty much sums that up,'' Rajsich said.
Elsewhere, ballpark employees had been arriving in ones and twos since early morning. Sam Clark, the part-time groundskeeper, had been there since 7 a.m., painting the boards set in the dirt in front of the dugouts, outlining the coaches' boxes with lime and performing other chores. He was cutting the padding off the batting cage as a pale sun bore down in a sky milky with humidity.
``This place is past its prime,'' he said. ``I've been here off and on for 15 years, so being someplace else will be different, I guess.''
The part Clark said he'll miss is what he called his ``apartment'' (a.k.a. ``Club Shed''), a one-room groundskeeper's utility building behind the visitors' bullpen. Inside this glorified shack (at least it was air-conditioned, although not effectively on such a hot day) was a fraying sofa, some tattered overstuffed chairs, one of which was being used by associate groundskeeper Stan Macko to eat his lunch, and various decorative objects.
One of these was a fishing citation with a picture of a marlin on it given to one Charles Lunsford in 1965. Clark had no idea of its origin.
Clark was planning to sleep on the sofa for old times' sake Sunday night.
Over in the visitors' clubhouse, Bucs intern Jeremy Richardson was laying out the league-mandated post-game feast - peanut butter and jelly, bananas, apples, oranges and Gatorade.
``It feels like I'll be right back here tomorrow, but I guess I'll realize soon enough that I won't be.''
More players had come in, and Jason Abramavicius, the previous evening's hurler, was making his solitary run around the circumference of the field. Pitcher Sean Evans was taking it easy on the covered front porch of the clubhouse.
``You know [General Manager Sam] Lazzaro is going to jam some people in here tonight,'' Evans said. ``He'll be breaking all the fire codes.''
Jake Austin, Alan Purdy, and Secrist were the first uniformed players on the field. About that same time, Rhonda Rogers, Melinda King and the rest of the workers in the main concession stand at the front gate were preparing for the expected crush of humanity (it would turn out to be the largest of the year: 5,467 souls).
``I've been here since 4 o'clock [an hour before the gates opened],'' Rogers said.
``We can work miracles in that time,'' King said.
Not long after, Lazzaro was at the gate, walkie-talkie in hand.
``I want to open the [front and back] gates at precisely the same moment,'' he was saying into the mouthpiece. ``And that's 20 seconds from now.''
The first of a pile of customers came through in orderly fashion. Nine-year-old Jerry West of Salem was the first. He was at the head of the line despite waiting only 10 minutes, he said.
At 5:56 p.m. sharp, longtime season ticket holder Dewey Owen, 96 and bearded, tossed the ceremonial first pitch from his wheelchair. Bucs starter Steve Parris followed with the official first pitch at 6:01 p.m., a strike to Lynchburg's John Graham.
The game began bleakly for the home team. It fell behind 5-2, but in the bottom of eighth the game turned. Lou Collier slugged a two-run homer to make it a one-run game. Then, two strikeouts later, Secrist was summoned to pinch hit.
The first guy in the ballpark that day crushed a two-run homer, the Bucs' first pinch homer of the year.
Said Secrist: ``I just wanted to make sure I touched all the bases.''
He did.
The bullpen got the job done in the ninth and the Bucs had a 7-6 victory as the gallery went daft.
Longball Silver, the team mascot, belly-flopped on home plate, raising a cloud of dust.
The old ballpark was a long time in clearing.
Keywords:
BASEBALL
by CNB