A Box Seat in the Bush Leagues
A Box Seat in the Bush Leagues
By David Boehnlein
“I’m never going to a major league ball game again,” I growled as I threw down the newspaper in disgust. The year was 1994 and the players had just gone on strike in the middle of the season. Meanwhile, I needed another source of baseball. Fortunately, I happened to live in Kane County, Illinois, home of the Kane County Cougars – and they were not on strike. At the time, they were a single-A team for the Florida Marlins in the Midwest League, where they played teams like the Wisconsin Timber Rattlers and the Quad Cities River Bandits. Their home field, Elfstrom Stadium, was only 15 minutes from where I worked, so I bought a season ticket package and began a 15-year relationship with the bush leagues.
I liked the atmosphere at Elfstrom. The food was good, the games were affordable, and there was plenty of corny, low-budget entertainment between innings. The players were still developing their skills, but it was fun to watch them come together as a team and every one of them played hard. Everybody on the field seemed eager to show that he had what it takes to make it in the major leagues – or at least AA. That made for a lot of over-enthusiastic mistakes. More than once, a base runner passed his teammate on the bags and I don’t know how many times I saw an outfielder heave the ball at home plate when he should have been throwing to the cutoff man. But the only one who never seemed to improve was the mascot, Ozzie the Cougar. Poor old Ozzie races a little kid around the bases at every game and hasn’t won yet.
Summer games would draw biggest crowds, but it was the sparsely attended spring games that I remember most. Early spring in Illinois is not exactly balmy weather, but the ticket package always included some April games. If it hadn’t, there might not have been anybody in the stands except the players’ families. On Opening Day, I sometimes watched the boys of summer in a parka. One time the temperature was 29 degrees and the only friend I could get to go with me was a Green Bay Packers fan who took pride in braving the elements. He showed off by getting a cold beer while everybody else was clasping a cup of hot chocolate. At least the crazy Cheesehead kept his shirt on.
The season typically had a good half and a not-so-good half. This is because the best players on all the teams would be moved up at mid-season and replaced with new kids. Meanwhile, the less-experienced players would have improved by then. It’s sort of an equalizer in the Midwest League.
Every now and then, one of those kids from Kane County would make it to the majors. By 1997 there were quite a few of them in Marlins uniforms and, what’s more, the Marlins were playing the Cleveland Indians in World Series that year. Clearly, my vow to give up on the majors was too rash; I wanted to see those former Cougars play for the championship. But for the first six games, I was on a business trip in Europe, where nobody seemed to know or care that the World Series was in progress. The series was tied 3-3 when I left for home. I arrived jet-lagged and famished just as Game 7 was beginning. I collapsed on the couch, turned on the game, and my wife (a Cincinnati Reds fan from girlhood) humored me by playing the part of a vendor with food and beer.
On the screen, catcher Charles Johnson squatted behind the plate for the Marlins, while teammate Edgar Renteria stood near second base. Both had played in the very first Cougars game I saw (the Rockford Royals drubbed them 10-3) and I reflected that they had come a long way. I watched them battle through a close game and in the late innings, two relievers who had also made the journey from Kane County stepped into the game. Antonio Alfonseca took the mound in the 8th inning and Felix Heredia replaced him in the 9th, with the Marlins down 2-1. They tied it in the bottom of the 9th and the game went to extra innings. At this point, I had been up for well over 24 hours, but there was no turning off the game now. In the 11th inning, with the bases loaded, Edgar Renteria stepped up to the plate. He sent a line drive up the middle, a walk-off single to drive in the winning run, and left the field a world champion. When I finally turned in for the night, I was a major league fan again.
I left Illinois ten years ago and haven’t seen the Cougars since, but, my rash vow forgotten, I have been to a few major league ballparks. I’ve seen the Nationals in D. C. on the Fourth of July and munched garlic fries at a Giants game while waiting for the kiss-cam. But I never forget that every star player out there started out in someplace like Kane County.
David Boehnlein is a retired physicist or a struggling freelance writer, depending on his mood. His work has appeared in Astronomy magazine. A native Detroiter and lifelong baseball fan, he now lives in Hampton, Virginia, and thinks the Tigers should have won the World Series this year, no matter what year it is. His website is Science Scribe at davidboehnlein.com.