Tag Archives: baseball

Sacramento may need lessons on cheering

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A view of Power Balance Arena during the Portland Trail Blazers - Sacramento Kings game on April 15, 2012, in Sacramento, Calif.

A view of Power Balance Arena during the Portland Trail Blazers – Sacramento Kings game on April 15, 2012, in Sacramento, Calif.

These are exciting times for Sacramento, with the plans for a new Kings basketball arena moving forward and the attendance-record-shattering launch of a new minor league soccer team. After attending a Sacramento River Cats game over the weekend, I can see a huge area for improvement — Sacramento needs to learn how to cheer better.

I first spotted this shortcoming when I attended a Sacramento Kings game on April 15, 2012. There was pretty decent turnout for a game that didn’t matter too much (the Kings were well out of contention by that point).

However, the only cheer that had any traction was the ol’ “DE! FENSE! *clap, clap.*” The team and fans would crank up that cheer every time the Kings were on defense.

As I noted to a friend in attendance, the cheer got pretty old early in the third quarter. When you yell “defense” every time your team is on defense, you’re going to be shouting it for half the game — about 24 minutes of game time.

It was ridiculous and there seemed to be little enthusiasm for other cheers. By the end of the game, I tried shouting other cheers or jokingly use other words in the rhythm of the defense cheer.

A large crowd watches the Sacramento River Cats take on the Las Vegas 51s in minor league baseball on Saturday, Aug. 2, 2014, in West Sacramento, Calif.

A large crowd watches the Sacramento River Cats take on the Las Vegas 51s in a minor league baseball game on Saturday, Aug. 2, 2014, in West Sacramento, Calif.

There wasn’t a lot of spontaneity at last Saturday’s River Cats game against the Las Vegas 51s. There was another large crowd with a great family atmosphere at Raley Field in West Sacramento. Once again, there was an odd lack of cheering.

Yes, the crowd generally clapped along with the PA system prompts and celebrated the on-field performance. They even briefly broke into The Wave, although the stadium doesn’t have seating around the field.

However, there wasn’t a lot of clapping, chanting or cheering during at-bats. After watching Oakland A’s fans clapping for potential strikeouts earlier Saturday, I was struck by how quiet this Sacramento crowd was.

As I usually do, I shouted out my own positive encouragements during some at-bats (I was ecstatic at the coincidence that the River Cats batter usually put the ball in play after I started a cheer). The crowd seemed very laid back, although there was some amusement and laughter when one of my later cheers for “Sac-ra-men-to” degenerated into a Muppet-esque “Aaaaaaaaah!”

In a slightly ironic moment, I started the “Defense” cheer in the ninth inning when the River Cats were struggling. They needed two outs, but had given up three runs. Moments after I started the cheer, the 51s player batted into a double play and the game was over.

I don’t know who could do it, but someone should offer to help revitalize cheering and chanting during Sacramento games. The River Cats had a green crew that tried to lead some cheers as they collected trash, but they moved elsewhere in the stadium before building any momentum.

I would generally support anyone or anything that helps get the crowd into the game without resorting to insults or derogatory language. Supporters groups or pep bands can add a lot of energy to a crowd experience, but I’ve also seen situations where the band or group drowns everyone else out and makes it hard to get the fans engaged.

I’ll admit that my experience going to Sacramento sporting events is limited, but I certainly hope these two games are not typical of the game atmosphere. Sacramento has a great fan base — as shown by the recent fight to keep the Kings in the city. I hope there is an effort to make sure that enthusiasm consistently shows up at games.

The night I nearly tripped over Tony Gwynn

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A mourner looks up at the Tony Gwynn "Mr. Padre" statue outside Petco Park Monday, June 16, 2014, in San Diego. Gwynn, an eight time National League batting champion and a member of Baseball Hall of Fame, died Monday from cancer. (AP Photo/Lenny Ignelzi)

A mourner looks up at the Tony Gwynn “Mr. Padre” statue outside Petco Park on Monday, June 16, 2014, in San Diego. Gwynn, an eight-time National League batting champion and a member of Baseball Hall of Fame, died Monday from cancer. (AP Photo/Lenny Ignelzi)

I’m still in shock that Tony Gwynn has died. He was one of those icons you thought would live for decades, sort of like fellow slugger Ted Williams, but Gwynn left us at age 54 after battling salivary-gland cancer. Gwynn’s presence loomed large over baseball and San Diego, yet he seemed like one of the nicest, most relatable people around.

That was certainly true one day late in the 1997 season when I almost tripped over him.

It was the San Diego Padres’ last homestand of the season. I was working as co-news editor of the UCSD Guardian when we heard Chancellor Robert Dynes was going to throw out the first pitch that night (IIRC, it would’ve been the Wednesday, Sept. 17 game against the Colorado Rockies).

We thought it would make for a decent photo, but our photo editor had other assignments. We were on deadline, but I called for a press pass and headed for Qualcomm Stadium after grabbing a camera.

By the time I found parking (in the VIP area!) and got into the stadium, I was starting to run a bit late. After riding in a cramped and creaky old elevator to field level, I jogged down the tunnel toward the field where I was directed.

As I made my way through the cold, grey corridor, I started going a bit faster before I realized the tunnel had a slight downward slope.

I was going faster, faster and then I suddenly saw a player sitting on the floor, lacing up his shoes. If I didn’t do something, I would’ve crashed into him. I felt I couldn’t stop safely so I kind of skip-hopped to the right.

As I passed him, I heard a kind voice saying something like, “Woah, slow down there buddy” with a little chuckle.

It was Tony Gwynn.

I’m pretty sure it was him, although I passed by in a blur. I shouted out “Sorry, sir” and continued toward the field. I was able to get to the photographers’ area near the dugout with just a few moments to spare before Dynes threw out the first pitch (with three other people — it was Community Day or something).

The photo didn’t run — it was double-exposed somehow.

As I’ve retold the story over the years, I’m deeply thankful that I didn’t run into him. I would’ve been horrified if Gwynn was somehow injured because of my actions. Also, in hindsight, I appreciated his polite response, other people may have not reacted so well to such an interruption.

That was my only near-encounter with Gwynn. It would’ve been great to have known him better and to share some firsthand encounters like Keith Olbermann (video).

At the same time, nearly every San Diegan who was around during Gwynn’s 20-year career knew him in some fashion and his death leaves a hole in the city’s psyche. Even when the Padres were in the dumps (as they were in 1997), San Diegans could always look to Tony Gwynn — I had to check, but he won his final of eight National League batting titles in 1997.

After Gwynn retired, he remained a fixture of the San Diego community, coaching the San Diego State University baseball team. He was also a subtle, yet well-regarded presence in the north San Diego County city of Poway where he lived (one of my sisters has stories of trick-or-treating at his house).

To be sure, Gwynn was a great baseball player and one of the greatest hitters of all time. When I look back, I’ll recall those performances and remember his dedication, persistence and enthusiasm at both sport and life.

R.I.P., Tony.