Baseball at Bricktown

Strikeout!
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Stopped over in Oklahoma City in order to go to a minor league ballgame at Bricktown Ballpark (AT&T Bricktown Ballpark for the purists among you who are reconciled to the blatant commercialization of stadium names).  The Oklahoma City Red Hawks (AAA afiliate of the Texas Rangers) were playing the Colorado Sky Sox (the AAA afiliate of the Denver Rockies--whom I saw play last May.  I saw both the Sky Sox and the Rockies, for those of you who are confused by my pronoun usage.)  In a continuation of the rest of the day, it was a gorgeous evening for baseball.  Though it was hotter (by about 10 degrees) in Oklahoma City than at Tallgrass Prairie, it was still only about 85 and the stadium is well-designed so that about 85% of the seats (including ours, behind home plate) are in shade by game time.  A very nice breeze was blowing and it was, in fact, quite pleasant.

Model Car, 1, Player 0
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The Red Hawks have been running Major-Leage Days promotional all year, and this week it was Fenway Park.  So they hung a big giant green banner in left field to act as the green monster (appropriately printed, I might add; photo included), and served Fenway Franks at the concession stand.  The prices were certainly a taste of the major leagues; our two-hot dog and other miscellany dinner was just about the most expensive meal of the trip--as expensive as the tickets.

You will not believe this, but I am not making it up: the Oklahoma State Song is (wait for it): "Oklahoma" from the musical of the same name.

Fenway Day at Bricktown--it's the Green Monster (sort of...)
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Just as well, because the game was no great shakes.  The hometeam made a sloppy and sort of lag-dog effort distinctly lacking hustle, which cost them several outs.  Highlights of the game were:

A booming homerun over the right field fence--one of those "no doubt about that" hits.

Two of the longest fly ball outs I ever saw; it's 415 to left center, and one guy pounded one to the warning track at least.  Twenty feet to the right and it was long gone.

One very pretty double-play; this mainly distinguished itself in contrast to the much more lackadaisacal play that prevailed through much of the game.

Bricktown Field, Oklahoma City
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The Sky Sox starting pitcher (eventually the winning pitcher) was heaved out of the game by the umpire for arguing over a pitch called a ball.  We think that the impetus for his eviction must have been "magic words," as the manager had leapt out of the dugout to quell his pitcher, and several players had backed the pitcher way off.  The fact that he was ousted anyway suggests that he kept up his witty patter until he uttered the words that put him beyond the point of no return.  Whether these were the Jim Bouton magic words or the Bull Durham magic words remains a mystery.  The event escalated, apparently; the announcer said that one of the coaches was also evicted for his contribution from the dugout.

The Mascot Has a Tomato Head
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The Red Hawks get awards for the following (not including losing the game, which was their fourth straight loss):

Silliest mascot.  It's supposed to be Rowdy the Red Hawk, but he bears a very distinct resemblance to a tomato. I uploaded a photo.  You decide.

Silliest ground crew.  They all wear the tomato heads.

No-more-silly-than-anywhere-else fans who paid 15 or more dollars for tickets and sat in the stands texting throughout the game.

The Whole Field Crew Has Tomato Heads
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Silliest between-inning game:  two eight-year-olds try to manipulate radio-controlled cars down the third base line, which of course resulted in their eventual arrival in the outfield, having banged into most of the infielders along the way.

Adherence to all the silly minor league baseball between-inning songs du jour:  The Macarena, the Chicken Dance, "YMCA," "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" (of course), and, a song that we first encountered in its ballpark role in Quebec City, Neil Diamond's "Sweet Caroline."

Most silly of all:  halfway through the fifth the exuberent Aussie bloke who runs all their half-inning games riled up the crowd to sing the Oklahoma State Song.  You will not believe this, but I am not making it up:  the Oklahoma State Song is (wait for it):  "Oklahoma" from the musical of the same name.  I wouldn't have believed it if I had not witnessed it myself.  At least I knew the words--I couldn't begin to tell you what the Virginia State Song is, let alone sing it!

We did NOT win:

The $25 gift certificate to Coaches--the restaurant in the stadium.

The two round-trip train tickets from Oklahoma City to Ft. Worth, Tx.

The 4 tickets to the current musical at the local Oklahoma City theatre.

The free taco at Taco Bueno (everyone in the stadium would have won this if the Red Hawks had scored in some inning or another.)

The two-nights' stay at the hotel in the outfield.

Oddly, none of these failures broke our hearts.  We DID win some sort of something from some sort of local restaurant (free appetizer?  10% off?) because the home team pitcher (a fellow sent down from the majors whose stay in Texas resulted in not a single appearance) struck out 7, but as it would have had to have been used in Oklahoma City on Saturday, it seemed a less than enthralling prize.

One of the interesting sidelights of keeping score (which I still do at every game--helps me pay attention, if nothing else!) is that other fans are always intrigued to see anyone engaging in the nearly-lost art, and it almost always generates friendly banter with at least one neighbor.  At this game, a gentleman sitting behind us was quite taken with the fact that I was scoring, and he seemed to think it made me an expert on all things scoring, as he presently asked me why K is used to indicate a strikeout rather than an S.  As I have been scoring for 40 years and never thought to ask that question, I was impressed.  No one in the vicinity knew, but of course practically everyone in the vicinity (excepting Tim and me but including the guy who asked the question) had internet-capable cell phones, and it took no time at all to find out.  Turns out the answer is that Henry Chadwick, who more or less invented box scoring, thought that some letters had more force in some words than others, and so he chose those more forceful words.  He used K because the term in the late 19th century for a strikeout was "struck."  He also used L for foul and D for "out on bound" (in the 19th century, you were out if a fielder caught the ball on one bounce).  Only the K survived into the 20th century.  More on Henry Chadwick and box scoring here and here and here.

The game itself was largely unmemorable, but it was a pleasant way to while away an evening, and the Sky Sox closer was some kid who looked about 18 who threw only one pitch slower than 94 mph, and that one was an 88 mph changeup which made the batter, expecting another 96 mph fastball, look totally foolish swinging way out in front of it and chopping it weakly to the third baseman.

Nice park.  I recommend it.