Trading Places?

The Bears lost yesterday in toasty Bears and Eagles Riverfront stadium, making their record 1-2 when I am in attendance. Their pitching was appalling, and their hitting (aside from an all-for-nothing seventh inning rally) was particularly weak. Keith Reed who had been ripping the ball all night finally connected for a grandslam in the bottom of the 7th. The only problem is, that in the top of the 10th, the Bears proceeded to hand the run back making the score 6-5, where it ended. Spoiled a perfectly good story line, that's what they did.

By the time I got to the game in the third it was already 4-0. The Bears got little from their staff, with a couple of mediocre innings out of Edwin Almonte. Ramon Castro (no relation to Fidel, ha-ha) went 4-5, and is on a nice little streak of his own. SeÑor Torres was in a funk all evening, but did have a pile of schwag including a broken bat and a couple of balls, and it appears we have a third (!) season ticket holder among us--some elderly gentleman who has now rotated two different Bears jerseys and one toupe to his three games. We'll call him Lester.

The most noteworthy moment of the evening came on my drive into Newark as I sat at a traffic light for a solid 15-minutes and must have been looking pretty grumpy to be missing what amounted to the Bears sucking it up for three innings. A homeless guy comes past my window shaking a cup and says, "Smile man. It ain't that bad! I'm the one with the cup." I didn't really know what to say, I mean, I've never gotten a pep-talk from a homeless guy.

"Just sick of sitting in traffic," I said, throwin a quarter and a couple nickles in his cup.

"If you really want I'll trade you: your job, your traffic and your car for my cup."

Funny how life smacks you in the face for being an ungracious tool sometimes isn't it? As I finally moved through the light onto the 1 and 9, I felt for my pair of tickets in my pocket. I was on the way to the game alone, with an extra ticket going unused. I wonder if he would have dug taking in a ballgame, eating a pretzel, and shooting the shit. I take him to a game, buy him a dog and a soda, drop him back off on Tonnele avenue and we each go on with our lives. I wish I had asked. I wish I was the kind of person who could have asked.

I sat two rows behind my usual seats. The corporate group that owns the seats behind me seemed to have camped out in both rows. I didn't bother pushing out the guy with the Brooks Brothers polo and Maui Jim sunglasses who was stretched across both of my seats. I milled around the Bears shop during one of Newark's stifled rallies. Felt guilty spending 23 bucks on a hat I'd only wear to games. I went to spend three bucks on a beer but for some reason they weren't serving (let's hope this is a fluke, and not the beginning of a trend) and watched the Bears try to mount a rally. Even after Reed's ball went soaring over the left field fence I didn't have much confidence in a positive outcome. I headed home before the extra frames. It was a lonely game. And a wasted ticket.

On the Road, Bears Hold Down First

The Bears held on to first place in their Division yesterday, but unfortunately missed the sweep against the Bridgeport BlueFish, much to Bridgeport manager, Tommy John's, surprise. The Bears started the weekend out by beating the fish 4-2 on Friday behind starter Matt Sweeney (2-0). Joey Gomes had another nice game with a couple of hits, but the real hero was first baseman Victor Rodriguez who knocked in a pair of RBI in the top of the first to start things off strong for Newark. After taking the opener, the Bears had their season largest two game lead in the North Division.

The Bears were able to extend that lead over the BlueFish with another win on Saturday night. In the chilly confines of the Ballpark at Harbor Yard, Wayne Krenchicki's club knocked the ball around the field. Jeremy Hill (1-0) started for the Bears. Victor Rodriguez carried the big stick again, going 3-4 with an RBI and a run, but Javier Colina's two run dinger in the sixth really opened up the lead.

That whole "Bobby Brownlie to the Yankees" discussion? Maybe we should slow our roll on that one. It turns out our mancrush may, in fact, have been a bit premature. The future all-star looked imminently hittable on Mother's Day, getting lit up to the tune of 5 runs on 8 hits in 5 innings. Six strikeouts is the good news. But...well, it's the only good news. The Bears have an off day today and return to action in Newark tomorrow for Two-for-Tuesdays. Sadly that is some ticket promotion and has nothing to do with two-beers-for-the-price-of-one or anything like that.

One last note. The Bears were not playing their cross-state Rivals (Somerset) this weekend, but I felt this was worth mentioning. I am all for the pink bat thing in MLB to raise money to fight Breast Cancer. But can somebody give kudos to the Patriots for going all out and wearing pink hats AND uniforms? Anybody? OK, I'll do it: "You go, girls!" (Sorry, had to.) On a serious note, major props to the Pats who raised over 7 grand for the cause. The Bears wouldn't even have enough fans present to get an auction going.

Story Lines You Just Don't Read in MLB Game Recaps 5/11/07

Gary Knotts Notches First "W" Since October '04

Yes, you read that right. In leading the Newark Bears to victory in the rubber match of their series with the Bridgeport BlueFish today, Gary Knotts pitched for a victory--his first since 2004! Not only that but game time was at 11:30, a fairly common Thursday start time (not to mention a pain in the ass while I am gainfully employed but something that is going to be amazing come August when I am "in transition.") Having been unable to make the game, I can only report what the Bears own website is giving me. And the news is, thankfully, better than a five game errorless streak. In fact, it turns out that the Bears won the series by putting on some early season fireworks, crushing three dingers. Backup Catcher Jason Torres (no relation to SeÑor Torres) is making a case for some more playing time with his first homer of the season. Meanwhile Keith Reed, a former standout Orioles Farmhand, and Javier Colina taking a half-day off and DHing both hit one of their own.

Knotts, apparently once made some starts for the Marlins and Tigers. Still, one has to think that with two and a half years between W's, Knotts probably enjoyed this victory as much as any. Other news regarding a more popular member of the Bears' staff: The Atlantice League Baseball News (can we just call them ALBN from now on? We're buds, right?) is reporting that there were around five scouts in attendance for Bobby Brownlie's start during Tuesday's home opener. Brownlie also got a pretty nice writeup in his local rag, which also took the opportunity to point out how far Brownlie's star has fallen and rip teammate Edwin Almonte--jerks! (Rip on my Bears and maybe I should point out that you repeated two lines and two quotes in your copy, bro. Only us fans are aloud to poke the Bears.) Here's the rub on a guy like Brownlie, who, I am starting to think might be a big fish in a small pond here. Do I root for the kid to keep ripping (it was just one start, I need to relax, I know) even though this might means he gets a minor league contract from one of the big guys? Or should I be selfish and hope he sticks around and falters here and there so I can greedily enjoy him outclassing the oposition before my very eyes. It adds on a whole new aspect to being a fan. You want your team to succeed, and part of that means wanting its stars to really succeed, which in the end might mean them being snatched up from under your nose. I am rooting for Brownlie to get as much success as possible, though. The kid signed a 2 million dollar contract out of college, and has Scott Boras as an agent, so he isn't as much of a loveable underdog as someone like Peavey. But as long as I get to see him start a few times, and then he makes it for a September Call-up in Tampa Bay next year or the year after that. I'll feel I was a part of his journey. Besides, even if Brownlie impresses a scout enough to get swept away from us, we'll always have Gary Knotts. Safe money says he's not going anywhere.

The Loneliness of the Die-Hard Bears Fan

5/10 Bridgeport BlueFish defeat Newark Bears 7-4.

They are staying positive on the Bears website. Despite the fact that my new neighbor, SeÑor Torres (more on him in a minute) was calling for our own pitcher's head in the fourth inning, the Bears are feeling good about yesterday's game. And why not? It's the fifth straight game without committing an error! It was my first game of the season, having missed opening night for an Arcade Fire show that I felt would be simply criminal to skip. And I will say this: it should be an interesting summer. The thing is the level of play really isn't all that bad. Hey, Junior Spivey was on the BlueFish! The crowd? Well, let's hope it was just a Wednesday night before the season and the weather really heats up type-of-thing. I expected small. A few empty seats here and there to put your belongings, short lines for the bathrooms and beer--these are actually perks of a lighter audience, right? Well small doesn't begin to describe the gathering that was the Newark Bears fanbase last night. It broke down like this: myself and Momma Bear; my neighbor SeÑor Torres, his wife and son; a group of about a dozen drunken men from Bayonne Exterminators (you can't make this stuff up. Dudes were literally resting their beers on their bellies the whole game); about 100 other people...tops. So the good news for the bears is, there weren't many people there to take in their first home loss of the season (they took the home opener behind former Rutgers University standout, Bobby Brownlie.) The bad news for the bears? There was only 150 people on hand to see them go five straight games with out an error. One more thing: it appears their own fanbase isn't overly enamored with them.

People who are easily embarassed for others wouldn't do well to take in a Newark Bears game, or, I am guessing, any Atlantic League game. It's a very loose tightrope one walks between feeling more pity for the guys on the field, or for the (generally) unfunny fans whose heckling starts off pretty strong before whimpering into mean-spirited taunts for the final five innings. While there is an upside to being close to the field in a rather uncrammed stadium--the action is right there (I mean you can read the guys lips while they curse the ump under their breath, and HEAR their conversations in the dugout) and the sounds are refreshingly crisp--there is a definite downside, too. In the quieter moments, of which there are plenty, you can hear word for word every single taunt that every single drunk or just plain obnoxious fan feels like spewing. There are some clever ones, to be sure. But some? Not so clever.

SeÑor Torres is my neighbor. He sits across the aisle from me, in the third row behind the bears dugout, his name proudly etched into a metal plaque on his chair, just like mine. I imagine I don't have much in common with him other than the fact that we have both spent a larger portion of our salaries on season tickets for a team of randomly thrown together hangers-on, never-made-it former first round draft picks, local kids with a dream, and guys who once made it to the show only to bat .180 in 17 at bats, grab a cup of coffee and watch their dream get crushed. Also, he has decided to subject his wife to this self-injury. Just like myself and Momma Bear. He is, as the name suggests, a latino man, who I imagine wishes Newark had a competitive futbol team (though this is probably a fabrication of stereo-typing) but was forced to settle for baseball instead. He calls out to the latino players in a spanish dialect (I'd be guessing if I offered which one.) "Oye, Rodriguez. Golpee la pelota mas dura, man!" He wants to collect the broken bats, and foul balls, scrapping it up with a few kids when one flies through our section. He's a real fan. He's created the season's first nickname, "Smith and Wesson" for our clean-up hitter, Corey Smith, a 6'2 260 lb. kid from South Plainfield who was the 26th overall pick in the 2000 MLB draft. Torres knows when the pitcher needs to be pulled (as soon as there's a couple guys on base, of course) and instructs the baserunners when to go (every time they reach.) His arsenal of supportive cheers is limited to "hold 'em up, hold 'em up!" and "you'll get 'em next time, man!" and "kick out that leg, pitcher!" But he does get bonus points for carrying on the one-man "Let's Go Bears!" chant long enough and loud enough to involve the PA-guy once or twice. Just the PA blasting its synthesized organ and Torres, alone, screaming "Let's go Bears! Let's Go Bears! Let's Go Bears!" I have to blush a little bit for him. But I also feel a swell of excitement. This guy put down his money to get his season tickets and damned if he wasn't going to make up some nicknames for the players, banter in his native language with his favorite latinos, and start up a chant. Good for him, I think.

The rest of the audience is less forgiving, and even SeÑor Torres, after the Newark Bears give up a two run bomb in the fourth, and suffer through a two-run BlueFish rally in the fifth, isn't feeling as generous. He takes it out on the umps mostly. And his hometown manager, his god given right as a fan. The Bayonne Exterminators, for their part, are heckling the Bridgeport pitcher with a constant slow-chant of "Hootie, Hooo-taaaay, Hooooo-taaaaaay!" (and the BlueFish, get it!?) I'm keeping loose score on a score card but more just trying to memorize the names faces and numbers of the team I am going to be rooting for, or heckling, as it seems is my fate as a new Bears fan.

There's Smith, who is a righty, was drafted by the Indians but only made the show for a cup of coffee. He can mash for sure, and is only 24. But he's a bit out-of-shape and looks less excited by a single than a strikeout. I'm guessing he's a kid that couldn't break the habit of swinging for the fences every time. Any other result seems to him to be a wasted at-bat. Pat Peavey is the early favorite for guy I am really gonna cling to as a fan. Peavey's 27, has only a little A-ball under his belt, and isn't likely going anywhere. He's the ninth hitter in the lineup, although I am not sure our Manager, Wayne Krenchicki doesn't just scratch out the lineup for the next day's game after he has a few beers and before he gets into bed. Peavey played college ball at Santa Clara with Bears Teammate Joey Gomes who also isn't likely to share the big stage with his kid brother, Jonny of the Tampa Bay Devil Rays. Gomes seems like a scratcher, too. I think this is going to be a common trait among these guys--what keeps them coming to a stadium filled with a couple hundred people, struggling to keep a career in the game. SeÑor Torres' favorites are Ramon Castro, a venezuelan who once played with the A's, and whose intro. music is a catchy salsa beat; and Victor Rodriguez, a fly-ball hitter, whose roster weight of 190 lbs. must have been taken with only one foot on the scale. Our pitcher, Newark Bears 2006 Comeback Player of the Year (!) Carlos Mirabal looks like he is regressing to whatever it is he came back from: the kid's heater is barely breaking 80 and anything that could have passed for a breaking ball was landing in the dirt. This last affliction isn't isolated to Mirabal, by the way. Of the three pitchers we see, not-a-one can throw a curve for a strike. Smart money says this is the biggest issue keeping them from reaching the next level. Take BlueFish pitcher, Matt Beech, for instance, who made it to the Phillies for three seasons as a lefty because he can deal heat (low 90's pretty consistently.) Only three season, of course, because he can't get his slider over to save his life. He still holds the bears to four hits in seven innings.

It would be unfair and a bold-faced lie, if I were to say the whole thing was a comedy, though. There's talent on the field, no doubt. You may not be sitting within coughing distance of the greatest players in the world, but the Bears field a team that, fundamentally, is as good as the best college teams you will find. These teams are built in the same vain as pro-teams, with speedy OBP guys at the top of the order (except for Krenchicki's team) and mashers in the middle. The bears DP team is sharp up the middle, and quick-footed. Our pitcher, though no Josh Beckett, can throw strikes (by the way, there is nothing cooler than sitting close enough to an umpire that you can see his face scrunch up and turn purple as he guterally grunts "Struuuuhhhh" for each strike.) I don't think I will be breaking down VORPs or OPS with RISP for these guys, but I have a feeling I am going to get a certain joy out of watching Smith and Wesson swing for the fences every time he's up, even if it's when we just need a single or a walk. I don't doubt I will regret watching Peavey hustle out a grounder to third, even if, in the grand scheme of things it means less than Manny walking to first after hitting a bomb in a big series against the Angels. Or maybe I said that all wrong. Maybe in the grand scheme of things it is something bigger, after all, to watch a kid whose never going to make a visit to yankee stadium wearing anything but shorts and a polo, hustling out a sure double play. Maybe in the grand scheme of things, 100 disinterested fans, groaning as Joey Gomes pops out to third can be just as meaningful as 40,000 erupting in awe as Papi belts another walk-off, throwing up his hands in god-like triumph, clapping his hands together as he plods along the bases, awaiting the crush of teammates and the 3-minute standing ovation of mass hysteria. 'Cause there goes Joey Gomes, sprinting down the first base line, hoping that ball finds a hole in the thirdbaseman's glove when it finally drops down. Certain that there's a scout out there willing to reward a kid for hustle. No crush of teammates, no flashing bulbs or earthshaking applause. Just a bag to get to, a throw to beat out, a game to try to win.

Hey, worst case scenario? There's always the short line for the bathrooms and beer. And SeÑor Torres: "Oye, Gomes! You'll get 'em next time, man!"