645
06-16-2005, 06:37 AM
He fouled a baseball into the air,
It fell to earth, I know not where,
For, so swiftly, it flew, the sight,
Could not follow in its flight.
With apologies to Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, a foul ball going into the seats these days at Appalachian Power Park is anything but poetry.
It's more like panic.
After three spectators have been hit in the face with lined or caroming foul balls in the first two months of the South Atlantic League season, West Virginia Power management, Charleston city fathers and architects apparently are going to discuss the potential addition of more netting to protect the crowd.
The Power has only two home dates in the next 19 days, so there's plenty of time to chew on a move that would be a mistake.
I agree that enough is enough, but more netting than the current backstop to protect fans isn't the answer. A ballpark isn't a batting cage. Nor is it your neighbor's backyard picnic -- although some spectators unwisely choose to play it that way.
That's an error that won't show up on the scoreboard.
If you're going to protect the public from itself at the ballpark, then the Power will also need to cut off all beer, hot dog, ice cream and Snickers sales.
Hey, they aren't exactly high on the quality food chain. Those bratwursts are great, but as squirting oil goes, they're right up there with a Coppertone bottle.
Watch out for those mini-bats Wheeler Bob peddles through the seats. You could put an eye out with one of those. You'll need to close off those big-money suites, too. Never know when someone will take a dive from the upper deck onto the first base concourse.
Neither is the answer to issue every spectator a catcher's mask. There is nothing wrong with the design of the park. In fact, the charm, uniqueness and newness of the new Power ballyard has created the problem.
Fans show up. They enjoy themselves. They forget that there are more dangerous projectiles than broken peanut shells.
They visit with fans in the next seat or row -- people who had quit coming (or never went) to Watt Powell Park long ago. The new park, with features new to Charleston baseball also brings new distractions.
I witnessed a prime example Monday as a spectator at the park. Headed from my seat across the third base concourse toward the concession stand, a young woman, I'd say, with back to the field, stood leaning on the railing behind the seats.
She was oblivious to the game going on behind her, talking on a cellphone. A foul pop, a 5-ounce asteroid, landed about 4 feet away. A kid grabbed the ball off the concrete on the bounce. The phone gabber never looked around. The field was still to her back.
Now, if the ball had conked her, whose fault would it have been? Or, how about the four gents, standing nearby, a couple with feet on picnic table benches, huddled in discussion with no eyes on the diamond?
The Power home attendance this season has eclipsed 122,000, or within a half-a-house at the stadium of the full final regular season at Watt Powell. The club is allowed to count tickets purchased and/or distributed in its attendance figures.
So, let's say the no-show rate is about 15 percent this season, which seems reasonable because people want to come to a new park. That means one in about 34,000 has gotten facial injuries from a foul ball.
The Power takes that seriously. The club management also takes the fan experience at the ballpark seriously, which is why it shouldn't put any more netting at Power Park.
More people at the ballpark mean more mishaps, whatever the kind. It also means more hot dogs sold, vehicles towed, toilets flushed, kids thrilled, and, yes, foul ball souvenirs. This is not a deal where there is safety in numbers.
A ball fouled into the seats even by a low Class A hitter is nothing like one that caroms off a metal bat by your son's Little League team. It's not the same game, not even close. Don't think that.
Still, there are some things the Power might be able to do to keep more people's heads in the game besides the pregame announcement and ticket disclaimer about possible flying objects.
Removing some (but not all) of the picnic tables from the concourses might be a good start, because most people eating there aren't watching baseball.
The park's wide walkways are one of its nice features, but too often, it doesn't matter. Fans are allowed to stand innings upon end behind the sections, impeding traffic, blocking walkways and obstructing angles of vision for those going to and from concessions and restrooms. The standees should be moved to their seats, unless they bought standing-room-only.
Perhaps the ushers, most of who are very courteous and gregarious but seem to congregate too often in the rows behind the backstop net, should be dispatched into every section of the park on occasion. Throughout the game, they could remind fans not of the potential danger, but to keep their eyes on the ball.
Rather than filling every half-inning break with some kind of contest or game, the club could use one or two of those for a public address announcement about paying attention to the game.
Maybe a player not in the lineup could do the honors for added impact. Or, maybe radio voice Andy "Bull" Barch could do it loudly, just like he screams about a pizza promotion. Maybe those aren't the best ideas, but they're better than more netting.
It fell to earth, I know not where,
For, so swiftly, it flew, the sight,
Could not follow in its flight.
With apologies to Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, a foul ball going into the seats these days at Appalachian Power Park is anything but poetry.
It's more like panic.
After three spectators have been hit in the face with lined or caroming foul balls in the first two months of the South Atlantic League season, West Virginia Power management, Charleston city fathers and architects apparently are going to discuss the potential addition of more netting to protect the crowd.
The Power has only two home dates in the next 19 days, so there's plenty of time to chew on a move that would be a mistake.
I agree that enough is enough, but more netting than the current backstop to protect fans isn't the answer. A ballpark isn't a batting cage. Nor is it your neighbor's backyard picnic -- although some spectators unwisely choose to play it that way.
That's an error that won't show up on the scoreboard.
If you're going to protect the public from itself at the ballpark, then the Power will also need to cut off all beer, hot dog, ice cream and Snickers sales.
Hey, they aren't exactly high on the quality food chain. Those bratwursts are great, but as squirting oil goes, they're right up there with a Coppertone bottle.
Watch out for those mini-bats Wheeler Bob peddles through the seats. You could put an eye out with one of those. You'll need to close off those big-money suites, too. Never know when someone will take a dive from the upper deck onto the first base concourse.
Neither is the answer to issue every spectator a catcher's mask. There is nothing wrong with the design of the park. In fact, the charm, uniqueness and newness of the new Power ballyard has created the problem.
Fans show up. They enjoy themselves. They forget that there are more dangerous projectiles than broken peanut shells.
They visit with fans in the next seat or row -- people who had quit coming (or never went) to Watt Powell Park long ago. The new park, with features new to Charleston baseball also brings new distractions.
I witnessed a prime example Monday as a spectator at the park. Headed from my seat across the third base concourse toward the concession stand, a young woman, I'd say, with back to the field, stood leaning on the railing behind the seats.
She was oblivious to the game going on behind her, talking on a cellphone. A foul pop, a 5-ounce asteroid, landed about 4 feet away. A kid grabbed the ball off the concrete on the bounce. The phone gabber never looked around. The field was still to her back.
Now, if the ball had conked her, whose fault would it have been? Or, how about the four gents, standing nearby, a couple with feet on picnic table benches, huddled in discussion with no eyes on the diamond?
The Power home attendance this season has eclipsed 122,000, or within a half-a-house at the stadium of the full final regular season at Watt Powell. The club is allowed to count tickets purchased and/or distributed in its attendance figures.
So, let's say the no-show rate is about 15 percent this season, which seems reasonable because people want to come to a new park. That means one in about 34,000 has gotten facial injuries from a foul ball.
The Power takes that seriously. The club management also takes the fan experience at the ballpark seriously, which is why it shouldn't put any more netting at Power Park.
More people at the ballpark mean more mishaps, whatever the kind. It also means more hot dogs sold, vehicles towed, toilets flushed, kids thrilled, and, yes, foul ball souvenirs. This is not a deal where there is safety in numbers.
A ball fouled into the seats even by a low Class A hitter is nothing like one that caroms off a metal bat by your son's Little League team. It's not the same game, not even close. Don't think that.
Still, there are some things the Power might be able to do to keep more people's heads in the game besides the pregame announcement and ticket disclaimer about possible flying objects.
Removing some (but not all) of the picnic tables from the concourses might be a good start, because most people eating there aren't watching baseball.
The park's wide walkways are one of its nice features, but too often, it doesn't matter. Fans are allowed to stand innings upon end behind the sections, impeding traffic, blocking walkways and obstructing angles of vision for those going to and from concessions and restrooms. The standees should be moved to their seats, unless they bought standing-room-only.
Perhaps the ushers, most of who are very courteous and gregarious but seem to congregate too often in the rows behind the backstop net, should be dispatched into every section of the park on occasion. Throughout the game, they could remind fans not of the potential danger, but to keep their eyes on the ball.
Rather than filling every half-inning break with some kind of contest or game, the club could use one or two of those for a public address announcement about paying attention to the game.
Maybe a player not in the lineup could do the honors for added impact. Or, maybe radio voice Andy "Bull" Barch could do it loudly, just like he screams about a pizza promotion. Maybe those aren't the best ideas, but they're better than more netting.