Second-hand joy in Fort Wayne:

The sneer is gone from Casey's lip, his teeth are clenched in hate;
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate.
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.

Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville—mighty Casey has struck out.

None of the Wizards playing in their home castle were able to pull a Harry Potter performance out of their hat and turn defeat into victory Sunday afternoon. In fact, these young magicians seemed to be under a spell cast by their opponents, the Dayton Dragons.

It may sound a bit like a medieval pairing of mythical creatures and characters, but this battle between wizards and dragons took place “between the lines:” on a baseball field in Fort Wayne Indiana.

The Class A MidWest league spans six states and includes teams named Lugnuts, Whitecaps, Kernals and Snappers. They hail from rustbelt cities like Lansing, Michigan and farm towns in Iowa and Wisconsin.

Maybe my presence in the ballpark was bad luck for the local nine. I saw the bases loaded twice by walks and hit batters before any player actually hit the ball. Most of the runs were forced to the plate as pitchers failed to throw strikes.

By the second time the bases were loaded, I realized that there was something going on other than two teams doing their best to win a game. It was obvious to me that this pitcher was being left in the game for some reason or reasons that had nothing to do with a strategy to win one game in Fort Wayne.


Today, I had a chance to meet with Mike Nutter, the young general manager of the Wizards and he confirmed my suspicions during a very instructive 45-minute-long interview in his office.

The Wizards are a “low-A” farm team for the San Diego Padres. As such, they have a pretty specific role vis-à-vis their players. They operate at level just one notch above the “rookie leagues,” which is the testing ground for new players.

In the Padre hierarchy, the Eugene (Oregon) Emeralds occupy the rookie spot. The Emeralds play only half as many games as teams in the levels above and, basically, if a player can’t make it there, he won’t get a chance to make it anywhere – it’s “Oregon or Bust” for baseball hopefuls in the Padre organization.

Players who outgrow the “sophomore” league usually move from Fort Wayne to Lake Elsinore (California) where they join a “high-A” league. And, for the few lucky and talented men who actually do make it to the “bigs,” it’s on to double-A in San Antonio and then back to Oregon and the Padres’ triple-a farm team: the Portland Beavers.

The odds are against the rookies ever occupying that space between the lines in a major league game – about 10 to one, according to Nutter.

The young pitcher who walked so many Sunday night was being given a chance to show how he could handle stress and failure. What appeared on its face to have been an awful performance may have impressed the coaches.

In this league, winning isn’t everything – far from it.

Fans who understand what’s going on realize that there is a two-step process in play. First, they can celebrate their home team’s successes and enjoy watching future-greats play right here in River City; and second, they must bite the bullet when favorites are “sent up” to the next level and the team is weakened by that loss. Fort Wayne fans – like those of every minor-league team -- must take comfort from realizing that without the tempering process provided at the lower levels, baseball could never be the “Show” it is in the majors.

Few of the Padre fans out in San Diego realize the contributions made by hundreds of players like Sunday’s pitcher and dozens of workers like Mike Nutter.

Hooray for minor league baseball.

Let me Root! Root! Root! For the home team.
If they don’t win it’s a shame.
And it’s One! Two! Three strikes, you’re out,
at the old ball game.