In major-league baseball parks around the country, empty seats speak volumes. The Angry Baseball Fans, so we’re told, have abandoned the game the way it abandoned them last season.
Down on the farms, however, it’s clear that many still love the game, even if they’re not so enamored with the major-league variety.
Attendance at minor-league games, from Class-A to Triple-A, has remained seemingly unaffected by big-league woes. Locally, Class-A teams like the Kane County Cougars and Rockford Cubbies have seen record crowds this season.
Cougars attendance is up 38 percent from the same point as last season, while Cubbies crowds have grown by 50 percent. Not surprisingly, overall Midwest League attendance has risen substantially, despite 37 more rainouts this year than last in the season’s first two months.
“People are beginning to realize that this makes more sense to them in a lot of ways,” said Bill Larsen, Cougars general manager.
For value, convenience and atmosphere, many families are finding minor leagues suit them just fine.
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On a clear Tuesday night at Geneva’s Elfstrom Stadium, Jack Tumpane has located the perfect seat. On the wooden deck behind right field, Tumpane relaxes in a jacuzzi while his son, John, and his Little League teammates dry off.
The hot tub is usually reserved for private parties, as are the tents on a hill overlooking left field. On this night, however, nobody in the crowd of more than 7,500 has claimed the spa, so Tumpane puts his $5 tickets to the best use.
“You can’t do this at Wrigley Field,” says Tumpane, of Oak Lawn.
Tumpane, a White Sox weekend season-ticket holder, also did something else he couldn’t do at a major-league park when he walked in the gate.
“I gave them a 20 and they gave me 12 bucks back,” he said. “I’ll come back here before I go back “
Tumpane wouldn’t be the first convert. For years, the Powells of St. Charles held an annual family get-together at Wrigley Field for a Cubs game. But as ticket prices rose, the Powells–all 40 of them–started going to Cougars games instead a couple of years ago.
“It’s more conducive to a family atmosphere,” said Joyce Powell, who sat in the stands with her husband, two sons and their two friends. “I don’t have a problem bringing them here, but I would have a problem taking them to downtown Chicago.”
Then, there’s John Kudlach, also of St. Charles. His company has an employee pool for Cubs tickets, and anyone who registers is usually guaranteed up to six tickets. Kudlach, who used to see the Cubs a few times a year, hasn’t requested any tickets since labor disputes killed the 1994 major-league season.
“I’m kind of disgusted with it,” said Kudlach, who has brought his 8-year-old son, Alex, to see the Cougars.
In their fifth year, the Cougars are averaging more than 6,100 fans per game. On June 3, a season-high 10,067 filled the seats, bleachers and lawn areas for a game against Springfield. Nine days earlier, only 6,763 showed up to see the Pittsburgh Pirates play host to the Cougars’ parent team, the Florida Marlins.
How could a Class-A team outdraw a major-league game?
“There’s a lot more to do,” Kudlach says. “It’s a lot more entertaining.”
The Cougars find their niche by making the fans more interactive with the action. Before each game, players lob baseballs into the stands as children clamor frantically for a souvenir. At the end of the games, kids are allowed to run on the basepaths. And on Sundays, families are invited onto the field to take pictures with or garner autographs from Cougars players.
“They know when they see these players that they’re not making a lot of money and they’re playing for the love of the game,” Larsen said. “They’re more in line with the average Joe in the stands.”
Fans appreciated
It’s a crisp, humid Wednesday evening at Marinelli Field as the Rockford Cubbies get set to play the Wisconsin Timber Rattlers. Before the game begins, what seems to be about half of Rockford’s children gather along the left-field line for Little League Appreciation Night.
“The staple of the minor leagues has always been catering to the fans and giving them more bang for their buck,” said Mike Holmes, Cubbies general manager.
Like the Cougars, the Cubbies try to keep the game a fun, family atmosphere. A race-the-mascot contest and free pizza giveaway highlight the first two innings.
This is the seventh year of minor-league baseball in Rockford, but the first as a Cubs affiliate. Though the Cubbies don’t attract as many as the Cougars, they still average about 1,500 a game, and, with Ernie Banks in attendance, drew a record 4,602 on Opening Day. Nearly 3,000 have shown up on this night.
The Cubbies promote themselves with a jingle that proclaims “The road to Wrigley goes through here.” But a lot of Cubbies fans would rather not venture any farther down the road.
“I don’t like to drive in Chicago,” said Tommy Beitel of Byron, explaining why he chose the Cubbies over the Cubs.
The long drive downtown discourages many from being welcomed to the show.
“The reason I come here is that I can bring the kids,” says Cordel Musch of Rockford. “And when they’ve had enough, we can go home without having invested too much time and money.”
Like the Cougars, the Cubbies charge $6 for the best seats in the house, less for bleachers and general admission. And every seat in the house offers a good view.
“I think it’s a little better (than the majors),” said Joe Cacciatore of Rockford. “You’re a lot closer to the field.”
On the field, obviously, the level of play doesn’t always measure up to the majors. But, said Mike Gyorkos of Byron, “it’s still good entertainment.”
“And to these guys,” Gyorkos said, motioning toward his son and nephew, “it’s great stuff.”
Strike still hurts
The sting of the strike and the cancellation of the World Series still weighs heavily on many fans’ minds, enough to keep them away from big-league parks.
“If they can’t figure out how to divide up the dough, that’s too bad for them,” says George Powell.
“I’m hesitant to go back,” admits Cacciatore.
If the majors are to recapture these fans, they might be well-advised to do some minor searching.
“Maybe,” Larsen says, “we almost have to start over again at this level and say this is the way things should be.”
