The Magic of Spring Training

It was five o'clock in the morning, and my roommate, Jim, was waking me up so we could hop in his brown, sporty but beat-up Nissan to travel across Alligator Alley and up the Gulf Coast to Clearwater. In my junior year at the University of Miami, this was the first time I had ventured to see the Phillies in Spring Training.

Just the day before, Jim made the suggestion. I packed my books so I could get some studying in during the five hour drive, and off we went.

Jim was something of a odd bird. Unlike me, who was raised in Fishtown and spent much of my childhood at Veterans Stadium, Jim was from North Carolina. He rooted for the Phillies because he loved Mike Schmidt. Although we were two years removed from Schmidt's retirement, he continued to be a Phillies fan. This created a strange combination for him, as he was a Cowboys fan in football; something I always teased him about.

At the time, baseball card collecting was in its hay day. In Miami, a Jose Canseco rookie card could fetch quite a premium. At first, I had considered baseball cards as something for kids, something I left behind when I was about thirteen. But Jim would scour the newspapers and magazines for news of baseball memorabilia shows in the South Florida area and drag me along. Soon I caught the bug, and discovered that collecting baseball cards was one way to learn about your team's prospects.

We arrived at Jack Russell Stadium in time for practice. Grabbing our cards, pens and markers, and after buying a program, Jim led me to the right field seats, where we saw Phillies players chatting with the fans and signing autographs.

This was all new to me. As a boy, when we went to ball games, my family usually bought the 700 level seats which we affectionately called the nosebleed section. We would spy down on the tiny players from above to watch the game, but there was very little interaction with the players. Even when my parents splurged for 200 level seating for our Sunday season ticket plan in 1980, we rarely saw players interact with fans directly before the game.

And it was a wonderful experience. As I politely handed Chuck McElroy his baseball card and a Sharpie, I chatted with him for a while. In fact, I chatted with Pat Coombs and others when they were done their workouts. They were friendly, and seemed genuinely happy to be there. Interacting with the fans did not seem like a chore to them.

Then I happened to look in the stands behind home plate. The jeff, sunglasses and white hair were unmistakable. It was Richie Ashburn, just standing in the section behind the plate, chatting with a few people.

Excitedly, I poked Jim and pointed, "It's Whitey, we've got to go talk to him!"

"Who?" Jim asked. And it dawned on me that since he had not grown up in Philadelphia he wouldn't necessarily have heard of Richie Ashburn. I explained that he was the long-time Phillies broadcaster and former center fielder from the Whiz Kids who deserved to be in the Hall of Fame (this was 1991 remember). Since Jim knew I was a lifelong Phillies fan, with a good deal of knowledge of the team's history, even from before I was born (mom still has a crush on Johnny Callison), he trusted me and off we went.

We waited politely while he finished talking to some other people, and then asked if he'd sign out programs. And then, showing the grace for which he was known, he chatted with us. Well more with me, since Jim was conspicuously silent. He asked where we were going to school, if this was our first Spring Training. Whitey was just incredibly friendly and patient with a star-struck kid and his silent friend; something I never forgot whenever I listened to Phillies radio.

As I recall, the game was against the Pirates, and Jim had picked it because he wanted to see Barry Bonds, Bobby Bonilla and Andy Van Slyke. But other than watching Bonds and Bonilla at batting practice, I remember very little about the game itself.

Still, this was the experience that taught me the magic of Spring Training. The experience also taught me to appreciate minor league games, where much of the same energy between the players and the fans exists. Since then I've always strove to try to make it back down to Clearwater. And I've been successful, but not as often as I'd like.

It is the memory of my trips to Clearwater that spur the excitement when I hear the magic words, "pitchers and catchers report."

By: William J. Kovatch, Jr.