The Sacramento River Cats: 85 Miles From the Major Leagues, by Chuck Strom

Game Action
Game Action
At the end of last season, the baseball Triple-A Sacramento River Cats changed their major league affiliate from the Oakland A’s to the San Francisco Giants. Naturally, this enhanced their appeal greatly for me, so I paid them a visit. Raley Field, a 10,000-seat ballpark, gets good online reviews, and I rated it just a hair below BB&T Ballpark in Charlotte, NC, the other Triple-A park I have visited, only because Sacramento didn’t offer as dramatic a skyline as Charlotte for its outfield background. Otherwise, the concessions were good (had the donut cheeseburger on a dare), and the architecture was pleasing. Parking was free, which was a welcome change from the $35 I usually paid in San Francisco.

I was surprised at how many names I recognized on the River Cats roster, even with the recent departure of pitchers Matt Cain and Jake Peavy, who had just completed rehab assignments. The catcher, Hector Sanchez, had been a member of the 2012 champion Giants, and Kevin Frandsen (infielder) and Darren Ford (outfield) had also spent time on the parent club. Many of the River Cats, such as Frandsen, had played for a decade or more, sometimes lasting a season or two in the majors but more often making it only for short visits, particularly in September when major league rosters expanded. It was a reminder of the Darwinian nature of professional sports, where past accomplishments, such as a World Series ring for Sanchez, were no guarantee of current success.

I paid $35 for a fourth row seat just to the right of home plate, a seat that normally cost several times that for a similar game in San Francisco, and I was able to see a lot of detail that I normally missed in my visits to the Giants. At one point, River Cats outfielder Ronny Cedeno took exception to a called third strike, and I could see his animated expression as he argued with the umpire. Later in the game, an opposing player, outfielder Gary Brown, a former first-round draft pick by the Giants, struck out on a 3-2 fastball with runners on base. I was able to see into the visitors’ dugout, and I watched as he returned his bat to the rack, walked deliberately to the water cooler and, as I suspected he would, punched it with his fist. He had good reason to be frustrated; with a batting average at .197, he was, as they say in baseball, driving the interstates.

It rained a little during the game, and at one point I got up and sheltered under the luxury suites until the rain quit. While I was up there, I found myself in the line of fire when balls were fouled back over the safety net behind the plate. One sailed within a few feet of where I was standing, inducing me to find a nearby pillar to deal with additional projectiles, and another went right into the window of the radio broadcast booth. I made a note to myself for future games to keep my seat close behind the net; I could deal with pop flies that might come over, but line drives were a little too stressful for my taste.

Overall, the evening was a good opportunity to forget my cares and relieve the stress that is a normal part of my life. With the River Cats up 8-0 in the third and the evening sky in twilight, it was somehow a lot easier to remember that the world can be a good place.

Chuck Strom