Firebirds fly; Phoenix changes guard

Baseball writers like to wax poetic about the way the game and its thoughtful pace connect us to a bucolic past. That past supposedly plays music soothing to breasts savaged by the hell-bent pace of modern living. Yet, it seems the writers are out of step. Major League Baseball, attempting to market its way back into favor after the strike of '94 when the lords of the realm nearly bumbled away the national pastime, says that today's fans want major realignment and a faster-paced game. They want more teams involved in the playoffs. (Nobody seems quite sure whether fans want the designated hitter, though.) Firebirds out, Diamondbacks in It's a sign of the times and of growth that Phoenix is losing its Triple A baseball club, the Firebirds, for the Arizona Diamondbacks, an expansion National League team. (The Firebirds will play their final home game at Phoenix Municipal Stadium on Thursday, August 28.) It's doubtful that going to Bank One Ballpark, or BOB as some wags immediately dubbed it, in downtown Phoenix will be anywhere near as relaxing (bucolic?) as going to take in a Firebirds game at Scottsdale Stadium or Phoenix Municipal Stadium. The 40,000-plus seating at BOB is considered relatively intimate in the majors. Still, a capacity game is going to seat twice as many people as can cram Desert Sky Pavilion and more than four times as many people than can fit into Scottsdale Stadium, where the Firebirds have been playing their last few seasons. The end of intimacy The intimacy of a minor-league game is never in question. Even the worst seats are pretty close to the action. That intimacy helps create the relaxing pace that baseball writers glorify. If it's a hassle to get in and out of the park and if crowds swamp the concession stands and the bathrooms, I think the pace of the game changes from "relaxing" to "slow." The fact is, though, that the Diamondbacks have already done more business than the Firebirds could ever hope to do here. Even though Triple A ball is just a phone call away from the majors, baseball fans are sending the message that big-league ball -- with its salary disputes, pampered players and mostly clueless owners -- is the only ball worth buying, and they'll pay for it through the nose. Don't get me wrong. I'm looking forward to big-league competition right here in town, but it's too bad we always have to subsitute big-ticket items for the little things that make life bearable. Big-ticket items always take more maintenance, and I wonder whether we're getting good value for the dollar. Copyright © 1997, Salvatore Caputo