A not-so typical week in Clearwater 

By Tony Zonca

Preparing for our mid-March Florida vacation, I mentioned to my Better Half that this would be my first trip to spring training as a typical fan -- if that is an apt description -- rather than a member of the fourth estate.

At home, in my living room, that sounded like a good thing. Then why did a sense of dread overcome me as we sat at our boarding gate in Philadelphia while I watched all those red-clad Phillies fans of all ages and sizes descend upon the site as though somebody was handing out Ryan Howard bobble-heads?

Suddenly, I felt oddly out of place, something like Will Ferrell being asked to do Shakespeare.

Though I purchased the tickets before Christmas, the BH and I were among the last to board the plane under Southwest’s ever-changing seating plan. We were fortunate to find two seats together – in the last row. Well, at least some plotting 4-year-old with an angelic grin and a devilish heart wouldn’t be kicking the back of my seat for 2 ½ hours while Mom pretended not to notice.

We landed without incident, our baggage greeted us, and the mid-size sedan I reserved was waiting for us, and soon I was making my way toward Clearwater and eight days of baseball, sunshine and lubricated joints. The biggest change I noticed in the nine years since I’d been away, while aging Jack Russell Stadium gave way to sparkling Bright House Field, was an improved highway system along bustling Route 19 – which meant it now takes a half-hour to travel 5 miles rather than the once 45 minutes.

We noticed some baseball activity that first afternoon at the Carpenter Complex, the minor league home of the Phillies. The first player I recognized that unusually warm and humid Sunday was veteran minor league pitcher Ryan Cameron (who would be released later in camp). We chatted a bit before I spotted Tom Filer, Reading’s third-year pitching coach, charting pitches behind the backstop on one of the five fields. We spent much of the time talking about high-school hoops, of all things. I waved a long-range hello to manager P.J. Forbes and said a quick one to minor league pitching coordinator Gorman Heimueller.

One thing I observed over my many years as a baseball writer was never to engage a coach or manager in pointless conversation at the ballpark while he was in his working clothes. Anything else would be totally unprofessional, and I was nothing if not professional – still am, in fact.

Since our attire was more suited for Reading than Clearwater, we sought the refuge of our air-conditioned car. Funny, isn’t it, that you can’t wait to escape the cold and damp of the Northeast for the soothing heat of Florida, and then you ride around with the A.C. going full blast the whole trip.

Since my last year on the Phillies beat was 1999, we drove around to reacquaint ourselves with the area. We were astonished to see the posh high-rise that had replaced the humble Aloha Motel that overlooked the Gulf of Mexico, just off Edgewater Drive, my home away from home all those memorable years. We also noticed much of the area around Jack Russell has undergone a much-needed facelift.

One of the first things we did was check to see if Yanny’s was still turning out the best French toast this side of Marseille, and if Capogna’s Dugout in beautiful downtown Clearwater was still dispensing heaping helpings of pasta. Actually, one of the highlights of spring training is finding quality eating places, and these are two of the best.

We checked into the LaQuinta Motel, a long fungo shot from Bright House Field. We were delighted with the accommodations. Hey, this trip may work out after all, I thought.

Our first meal? Where else? Sweet Tomatoes, an old favorite, and one of the more popular eateries in the area. It is simple, basic fare – featuring a gargantuan salad bar – with New England clam chowder that is heaven on a spoon. What are you waiting for Berks County? This place is a gold mine waiting to be located here.

Monday came, and it appeared the BH had inherited my all-winter cold. I spent the morning catching up with longtime Phillies PR guru Larry Shenk, who couldn’t have been more generous. I visited with former R-Phils Carlos Ruiz, Chris Coste and Ryan Howard, had lunch with veteran scribe Bill Conlin, and said my hellos to Jim Fregosi and Darren Daulton, whom I’m sure need no introduction.

It was St. Patrick’s Day, so the Phillies were wearing their traditional green uniforms. Bright House Field features a second deck – unusual for a minor league stadium – a wide concourse that encircles the yard, and two grassy seating areas beyond the fence in left- and right-center. Still, I miss Whale Beach behind first base at Jack Russell, where the writers gathered to catch a few rays (or was it to get a closer look at the Hooters ball-girls?)

Back then, I differed from the average fan in that spring-training games were mostly secondary in my approach to the job. Foremost was the daily player profile, the notes package, pondering trade possibilities, tracking injuries and speculating on the club’s final physical makeup. One spring I wrote three pieces a day. I was the busiest writer in the press box. In addition, you had to prepare your preseason package that ran the Sunday before Opening Day, which included player profiles, a lengthy feature piece and a another general piece on the team’s prospects for the season. It made for long, busy days – the sun and the suds were our rewards.

Yet it never failed to surprise me when I got back to the office and colleagues would ask gleefully, “How was your vacation?”

“Don’t let the tan fool you,” I would say, wondering if they EVER read the sports section.

The first game we attended, the Phillies collected 11 hits and toppled the visiting Indians 6-1 on a day that felt more like Florida in June than Florida in March.

That night I was reminded about the big deal the area makes about St. Patty’s Day, but a $5 cover at Bennigan’s? C’mon.

Tuesday was another glorious day in Paradise. I stood around the batting cage and listened to the foremost hitman, Charlie Manuel, instruct Paul Burrell, on his pitch-selection philosophy: “Get it early (out front); nothing good happens late,” Manuel barked, as Burrell ripped a cookie over the left-field fence.

(So far, so good for a seemingly more aggressive Burrell.)

I exchanged pleasantries with an old friend, bullpen coach Ramon Henderson, who makes his home in Berks County. Ramon has to be the most famous batting-practice pitcher in the world after serving them up to Bobby Abreu and Howard at the annual All-Star bash.

I visited with a few veteran beat writers. They are by nature a grumpy group, but even more so now as they face the indignities of a declining newspaper industry. Still another Philly suburban paper has thrown in the towel; it notified its man, the senior writer on the beat, that he no longer would travel with the team, and this likely would be his last year covering the team in Florida.

A lot of good, loyal and often brilliant journalists are either stepping away from the business, being slotted into mundane jobs, or offered buyouts as the industry continues to crash and burn as it succumbs to a relentless internet onslaught. The industry fights back by waving a white flag – earlier deadlines, and thus less meaningful news content; less news space, meaning still less news; less newsroom personnel, again, amounting to less news in your paper. And then, at least as I’ve always seen it, it gets into bed with the enemy when it forces its writers to double as internet bloggers. Newspapers are becoming less and less relevant, sad to say.

“Zonk, you got out at just the right time,” the writers tell me, one after another.

Behind six solid innings from Cole Hamels, the Phillies got past the Devil Rays 4-2.

After inhaling two of Yanny’s outrageously delicious helpings of French toast, we picked up tickets for Sunday’s game at nearby Dunedin, home of the Blue Jays. Back at the complex, I catch up with three of my favorite people in the game – pitching coaches Carlos Arroyo and Rod Nichols, and Phillies minor league field coordinator Bill Dancy, whom I have known since his shortstop days.

This is where this piece takes a gloomy turn. First, I managed to lose my wallet, which is never good, especially when it contained my only valid photo identification, which comes in handy when it’s time to board the plane for home.

Second, the BH’s cold worsened. She became so ill she wasn’t able to make Thursday’s game. None of this was in the brochure.

After an all-night rain, the day came up gray and damp. But this is Florida; the sun prevailed, though the temperature was just 67 degrees at gametime.

Kyle Kendrick, the precocious right-hander who started 2007 in Reading, had been tagged for 13 runs over his previous 4.2 innings. This time he avoided the surging inclination to jump off the Sunshine Bridge by reeling off five scoreless innings against the Pirates.

The ballclub was also encouraged by a successful minor league outing from ailing closer Brad Lidge. Speaking of closers, I bumped into Ricky Bottalico outside the press box. He’ll be the TV color man for the new Lehigh Valley IronPigs.

Friday’s weather was the kind the local Chamber of Commerce orders up, the best weather day so far. We took in the games at the complex, where I visited with Heimueller and minor league director Steve Noworyta. Brett Myers was getting in his work, pitching for the Iron Pigs, which attracted more attention than the usual minor-league gathering. Then it was back to the room for a day of NCAA hoops, pizza and Robitussin.

Fear and uncertainty – I’m not talking about the Phillies rotation – is all you hear and read about concerning the economy. If consumers are worried, you would never know it as evidenced by the crowds at the games and in restaurants at night. The ballparks were mostly full, merchandise was falling off the shelves, and the parking lots at restaurants and clubs were overflowing. It seemed to be spring-training business as usual.

It was Saturday and it was raining. I was more steamed at my NCAA bracket, even though I was a sparkling 27-5 for the first round. But how do the Crayons – 13th-seeded Siena – win by 13? Color that one a shade unbearable. There’s no way Clemson should blow an 18-point lead to Villanova, the last team to make the field. And don’t even get me started about all those buzzer-beating overtime games. 

The sunshine Nazi spoke gruffly that day – “no sun for you; come back tomorrow!” We were pretty much in the soup all day, and the game with the Tigers was rained out in the top of the fourth.

We spent much of Easter Sunday at Knology Park in Dunedin. Our last full day in Paradise came up perfect – 77 and gorgeous, not a cloud in the sky. The ballpark is one of the older ones in the area and bereft of basic creature comforts. The BH was struggling with a worsening cold, which made her stay less enjoyable than it might have been. But she’s a trooper; she posted up almost every day.

Reading shortstop Jason Donald slammed a pair of three-run bombs – what a thrill for a young guy wearing a big-league uniform for the first time – as the Phillies ripped the Jays 15-7.

Armed with my passport (which our son over-nighted), the trip home went without incident. When we checked our phone messages at home, we learned a thoughtful, gracious man from Tampa, who had been at the complex to watch the Yankees minor leaguers play the Phillies, had found my wallet and was preparing to send it out to me.

All things considered, our stay went rather well. It certainly brought back a lot of fond memories. So what was I worried about?

See you at the yard. I’ll be the guy holding onto his wallet up in the box.

This story was posted on April 11, 2008