When it comes to a city divided in its baseball loyalties you would be hard-pressed to find a city more divided than Chicago. Sure, there are other cities where there are more than one baseball team. New York apparently has a pretty good cross-town rivalry, but nothing really compares the outright hatred you will find here between Cubs and White Sox fans. The 2006 season is in full-swing and the loyalties that were so united to cheer on the Chicago Bears late last year are now divided as the bats crack. I am pleased to say that the team I root for, the White Sox, is in first place.
Yes, I am a Sox fan, but what I truly love and I truly wait for anxiously is the start of minor league baseball play. Chicago has a number of them as well. There are independent leagues extending from Lake Michigan to Rockford Illinois. There are the Rockford Riverhawks, the Kane County Cougars, the Gary Southshore Railcats, The Schaumburg Flyers, the Joliet Jackhammers and the Windy City Thunderbolts. The only team that is affiliated are the Kane County Cougars and they are affiliated with the accursed Oakland As.
For my money nothing beats the Windy City Thunderbolts. Sure, I live maybe a stone’s throw (or a baseball) from the Schaumburg Flyers field, I would rather drive practically into Indiana and spend an evening watching the Thunderbolts. For true baseball fun there is nothing better than watching this team.
The ‘Bolts play in the independent Frontier League. Basically this means you have a bunch of kids playing who are just barely out of college and some rather interesting guys who are just trying hard to hold on to the dream of playing baseball for a living. The stadium is called Hawkinson-Ford Field and it is a marvel for a minor league team. The stadium is behind an apartment complex and wedged up against a high school. Very large high-tension power lines run over the top of the stadium and then along the right-field side. When it rains you can hear the water crackling against the wires and it makes you think about what all of that electro-magnetic energy might be doing to your brain. I have no idea if cancer clusters exist in suburban Crestwood, Illinois, but it might be looking into.
There is a second level to the stadium. Yes, an upper deck. No need to travel up umpteen ramps to get there. It looks as if someone started to build a baseball stadium and, half way through, they ran out of material. The upper level stops at the half way point mostly because of those high-tension wires. “Electrocution Night” was something even the Thunderbolt didn’t want to consider.
In the minor leagues you cannot beat the entertainment for the price. A general admission ticket will cost you around $7.00. The most expensive seats are still under $20. You can’t get into a movie for that price these days and the movies won’t have Boomer.
Ah yes, the mascot. Before the Thunderbolts became the Thunderbolts they were the Cook County Cheetahs. The Cheetah mascot was one of the scariest mascots I had ever seen. The Thunderbolts have a mascot that could best be described as a blue, um, thing.
Remember that cartoon when you were a kid with the giant blue aardvark that sounded like Jackie Mason (and may have been, for all I know, voiced by Jackie Mason) and was trying to capture one lousy wise-cracking ant? Imagine that aardvark with dark blue fur, a white pin-striped baseball jersey and a silver helmet with lightning bolts on the side and you get the idea. Kind of a pseudo-Viking furry ant-eater. How this relates to baseball, thunder or bolts of any kind I cannot imagine. Also, he is about seven feet tall.
As for the way the game is played, well, this is the minor leagues. At one game I once saw a very large first-baseman play. To say he was overweight was like calling Hurricane Katrina a spring rain. He was large. He could, however, hit the ball a very long way. During one play I saw this man hit a ball to the second baseman and watch as the ball bounced off of the second baseman and into the outfield. That second baseman had time to turn around, locate the ball, trot into the outfield to get the ball, turn again and fire the ball to first base to get the guy out.
Still, the real entertainment is what happens between innings. Between innings is when the games are played. Very young and exceptionally hot women come out from what must be secret panels beneath the field. Some guy with a goatee has a microphone and shouts words into them. They pull people from the audience and games are played. You have kids who run a race around the bases with Boomer. Boomer always falls when he reaches third. You have the kids who hold baseball bats to their foreheads and spin around and then try to run. You have kids who attempt to hit baseballs over a cardboard fence. You have adults who stand on top of dugouts and attempt drink milkshakes really quickly. What do they win? I have no idea, probably T-Shirts. T-Shirts are like cigarettes in prison at minor league games. Valuable beyond reason while you are inside but probably made out of substances that could kill you.
In the minor leagues there is a kind of circuit of performers. You have two guys who dress up like the Blues Brothers. You have the people who dress up in large, inflatable costumes meant to be animal caricatures of live athletes and baseball personalities (Harry Canary, for example). You have the guy with the dog. I don’t really remember what the dog does, but it’s a dog and you gotta love dogs. The kids love that dog.
That’s the thing about the minor league ball. It’s about families. There are kids everywhere. It’s cheap to get an entire family in there and you can let them run around and scream and it all seems OK. They can even punch Boomer and I bet he doesn’t mind. Dad gets to watch the hot young girls and mom can watch the studly young baseball players. You can still eat a hot dog and get a beer and you can get a cheap scorecard and teach your son how to keep one.
For my money, nothing beats the upper level. You get a nice view of the field, the high school and the electrical wires. It’s usually fairly empty and you can sit almost where you please. The players run around and when you watch the ‘Bolts they do a lot of running around chasing baseball rather than running around the baseballs to score. Some Chicago traditions manage to filter down to the minor leagues.
Still, even though the play may not be as good as you might get at Wrigley or U.S. Cellular and there might be a kid puking up hot dogs because of too much time in the inflatable jumpy thing off to your right, you get a few of those magical baseball moments that can only happen in the greatest game ever invented. I was there last 4th of July weekend, sitting in the upper deck watching the ‘Bolts lose horribly. Suddenly, far in the distance, over the right-field fence a fireworks display began. Then, from off to the left, another display began. The sound of the explosions managed to echo their way to the field maybe a full minute or two after the lights went off.
It was warm. There was baseball. I had a free giveaway hate colored like a John Deer tractor and there were fireworks in the distance. It was beautiful.
I hope the Sox win it all again this year. I look forward to spending more nights at U.S. Cellular cheering on Thome and Konerko and Crede. However, I am really looking forward to May 13.
The Thunderbolts play the Rockford Riverhawks that night. It’s the ‘Bolts’ home opener.
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