San Francisco: Through The Knothole

In the strictest sense of the term, my grandfather was a Trolley Dodger – a Brooklynite weaving through the maze of tracks and trains that criss-crossed the borough in its heyday. A Brooklyn resident for the first thirty-plus years of his life, he spent many a waking hour in the 1930’s & 40’s dodging and riding trolleys from his home in the Flatlands section to get anywhere, including Ebbets Field.

Spending an evening at the ballpark by picking up the Flatbush Avenue trolley at Avenue U and taking it toward Prospect Park and 55 Sullivan St., zip code 11225 was a common occurrence. It was pretty rough watching the ‘Daffiness Dodgers’ until Durocher became the manager in ’39. The first pennant came in ’41. 104 wins came in ’42. After the war, an angel came in ’47 in the form of a second baseman changing the landscape forever.

He told me just the other day that his favorite way to experience his favorite team was to queue up early for the 50-cent bleacher seats that went on sale on or about 5:30. Really? Night games in the 40’s? That’s what I thought. But he was there (in the good seats) for Johnny V. in ’38. He was bleached under the Brooklyn sun for the Gashouse Gang and Pepper Martin smoking a cigarette in the outfield during BP in ’34; and he was there for the Robins (as the Dodgers were also known) and a 40-year-old Dazzy Vance as a wide-eyed 11-year-old in ‘31.

I could not help but think about those stories while standing under the ‘Number 2 Archway’ for nine innings of Marlins @ Giants on 8 July ‘09. I thought I would find the 21st century version of ‘The Knothole Gang’ where hundreds of fans both young and old would try to catch a nine-inning glimpse of this year’s biggest surprise going for a series sweep. For the most part, that was not the case. It was, however, a decent view of the game and an even better view of this slice of Americana.

Credit must go to the San Francisco Giants for conceiving and executing the Portwalk, one of the most spectacular features of any of the new parks out there. Of its many features, the Portwalk borders the north side of McCovey Cove, holds a ferry terminal, and provides entry to four field-level, free standing room only arch-shaped gaps in the right field wall.

Of the roughly 200 people that cycled in and out of the area, less than 5% stayed for the entire game. 30% were children – most of whom were in large groups for picnics that allowed the chaperones a well-deserved respite from their duties. The remaining guests were either backpack-laiden tourists or Docker-clad businessmen sneaking away for a two-inning-long lunch.

An organized chaos has developed over the 10 years of the park. It seemed as if each of the archways was its own neighborhood (or borough for the New Yorkers), with a leader. The supervisor of Number 2 Archway was Will.

Will has been coming to Giants games since 1960; and while it would be flat wrong to say he has been priced out of the market entirely post-Candlestick, he cannot afford to go as many games as he would like to attend. Regardless, he has definitely found a home at the nearly 300 Giants games he has seen in 10 years staring at the backsides of the likes of Reggie Sanders, Jose Cruz, Jr., and Randy Winn.

A member of trade unions for most of his adult life, Will’s outlook is not too far from San Francisco’s off-center center. Like me, with more free time lately to watch baseball, he has views on what is happening in D.C. and Sacramento, but he does not let it dampen his enthusiasm for the game. It was my question to the Archway’s populace asking ‘Who’s playing hooky?’ that broke the ice and got us on a political tangent, but it was not long before we were talking about baseball’s rightful, but torn place in America’s tattered fabric.

He taught me the Archway’s code. Get there early for the Dodgers (sound familiar?) and for Lincecum. Dodgers game on a Friday night? Brace yourself. Giants’ staff will rotate fans every three innings for the super-premium games. Otherwise, rotating positions are self-policed; and if you are at the rail and you see a kid straining to see, you must cede the rail for him or her and step back.

Getting the rail for the bleachers in left –center was the reason why my grandfather got to Ebbets Field as early as he did. By some calculations, fifty cents in 1941 is worth over $7 today. That does not get you in the building in L.A. or S.F. off the standard ticket menu, but the lowest prices for the most remote regions of those ballparks are not that much higher.

Whether the price is $0 or $2,600, the true value still in the tickets still seems to come from the memories created. 34,157 paid for memories this day. That’s 82% of capacity for AT&T. Not bad considering 200 of us got in on the action gratis.

In other news – Chris Volstad created memories of his own by singling, scoring on a sac fly, and five-hitting the Giants in a masterful complete game shutout. The Marlins avoided a sweep and kept their hold on second place in the NL East, while the Giants’ rookie starter Ryan Sadowski, whose scoreless streak to start his career ended at 16 2/3 innings, took his first loss.