The Declaration of Independent Baseball
"We hold these truths to be self-evident: that
all ballplayers (except our favorites) are created equal, that they are endowed
by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights and Lefts, that among these
are the Fastball, the Slider, and the ability to get safely from first to third
on hits to the gap."
It's
a springtime Saturday afternoon, tryouts for the Vallejo Admirals and San Rafael Pacifics of the
North America Baseball League (NABL). The
cyclone fence surrounding Wilson Park in Vallejo features faded advertising
panels from local insurance companies, the Elks Club, Knights of Columbus, the
Vallejo Police Officers Association. The outfield grass is thick and uneven but
a "sprucing up" is in the cards, promises Pacifics co-owner and NABL organizer
Mike Shapiro.
Either way,
it's Showtime. Twenty-to-thirty men of all shapes, colors and sizes – mostly
big – are here to compete for jobs that will pay a maximum of $1200 a month,
the privilege of dressing in locker rooms that look suspiciously like public
restrooms, and living accomodations with other people's families for the
duration of the summer. There were earlier tryouts in Fairfield, another is
scheduled later in April in San Rafael. But for most of these guys whose parents,
girlfriends, siblings and even their own kids watch anxiously from the
bleachers, this is their shot at entering professional baseball through one of the
widest yet most obscure portals of all – independent baseball.
What other kind of baseball is there?
Think of the first time you played – on a field, a playground, a street,
anywhere an imaginary diamond could be superimposed. All you needed was a ball,
a stick to hit with, something wadded up to serve as bases, a piece of
cardboard for home plate. All baseball not affiliated with Major League
Baseball is independent. Little League. Pony League. American Legion. High
school. College. T-ball is "Indy ball."
This game starts
without an umpire (umps make a $100 a game at this level, maybe this one's delayed
at another job). And though players supposedly have been working out on their
own, some clearly haven’t. The Admirals’ starting pitcher sports a noticeable
gut and begins pouring sweat early in the first inning. But his compact motion
produces serviceable fastballs, and curves that break sharply off the plate. In
the bottom of the inning, the Pacifics' pitcher reaches 90 mph on the radar
gun. This feels as authentic as any level of baseball. A good curve is still a good
curve, after all. A 90 mph fastball is still 90 mph. A line shot bending over the
bag, the third baseman scrambling to his feet and gunning a throw that saws the
diamond in half to beat the runner by a step is a work of improbable magic in
any league.
It's pro baseball,
you just don't know these guys' names – though they hope you will some day. Jordan Bally, Coley Crank, Leroy Dunn, Tim
Espinoza for the Admirals … Zack Pace, Will Wright, Nick Kuroczko, Steven
Detwiler for the Pacifics. One known
commodity is 33-year-old Maikel Jova, the Pacifics' rightfielder, who twice
escaped from Cuba on a raft (the first time he was captured and sent back) to
play American baseball. He finally landed in the Dominican Republic, then
climbed through the Toronto organization to AAA in 2006. Though hitting in the
.290s, he was cut and has played "Indy ball" for seven seasons. Last
year Maikel won the NABL MVP award and led the Pacifics to a championship.
Another is Tyler
Pearson, a 6'3' 205 pound right handed pitcher in his second season with the
Pacifics. He throws two effective innings, then sits down to talk baseball. His
dream? "I wanna get signed," he says. "I’ve been really working
at it – working out, running a lot, throwing bullpen. I went to a tryout for
the Diamondbacks last month. I was throwing 92 but I’m twenty-seven [years
old]," he says wistfully. "They're looking for younger guys, I know
that."
Tyler was
drafted by the Royals his junior year but decided to stay in college. When he
didn’t pitch as well his senior year, he wasn't drafted. He's now a six-year veteran of the Indy league
circuit, putting in time with the Amarillo Dillas, Chico Outlaws, Yuma
Scorpions, Rockford Riverhawks, Fort Worth Cats, Sioux City Explorers and last
year the Pacifics. "I get paid to play a game," he says. "There
nothin greater than that."
Tyler works out during the
offseason in Ukiah with his dad, who taught him the game. During the season he
plans to live with a host family in San Rafael rather than commute. "Like
I say, my dream is to get signed," the big right hander confides. "It can happen. The Chico Outlaws
produced Daniel Nava, he’s with the Red Sox playing outfield with Jacoby
Elsberg and those guys. I played with
him …"
Driving home I wonder what other
sport inspires dreams of reaching the pinnacle at 28, 30, 34-years-old? Not the
NFL, where most players are done by 28. But in baseball everything seems possible.
Think of the film "The Rookie" ... the improbable ascension of Ryan
Vogelsong, the "sudden" emergence of Andres Torres. Baseball is the great
democratizer, where a man with a glove and a pair of cleats can aspire to immortality.
Forget that “independent” in this case means "unattached" to the escalator
to the Big Leagues, and eating PBJ's before games instead of steak. You're on
your own. You’re a pro. You’re getting paid to play baseball and nothing's going
to stop you – except yourself. That's
what Indy ball is about.
