The Futility Infielder

The Futility Infielder's All-Star Weekend, Day 3: Workout Day and the Home Run Derby

Even with two unforgettable days of All-Star festivities already under my belt, a few chapters of my Milwaukee experience remained to be written. For one thing, I'd never participated in a proper tailgate party. My hosts aimed to correct that oversight prior to Monday's activites.

Undeterred by sweltering 95° heat, our group loaded up a truck with a full-sized grill, a cooler full of beverages, a plastic container of parboiled bratwurst, an appropriate array of condiments (including a jar of sauerkraut and a bottle of Secret Stadium Sauce, a ketchup/BBQ sauce-like wonder), candy, and enough chips to feed a small army. After finding our way to Miller Park, we staked out a spot in the upper parking lot, across the freeway from the ballpark. Not exactly a rose garden, but perfectly acceptable for tailgating purposes.

After setting up some folding chairs and the neccessary accoutrements, grillmaster Matt diligently slaved over the hot coals while Andra, Adam and I broke out mitts and tossed the ball around the lot (with not a scratch or dent to the surrounding cars, I'm happy to report). Eventually, the heat overcame us and we settled down for a round of sodas and waited for our brats. Several other groups of people in the lot were doing exactly the same thing. Matt and Adam explained to me that the need to accommodate tailgaters was the reason Miller Park wasn't built downtown, where real estate for parking would have been much more scarce. After scarfing down a couple of brats, now I understand this typically Wisconsinite sense of priorities. Never let it be said that they don't have an appetite for fun around here.

We headed over to the ballpark at 4:30, just as the National League All-Stars were beginning batting practice. Though we'd hoped to wander down close to the field behind home plate, security personnel diligently turned away all but those whose tickets allowed them down to field level. So we wandered around to the outfield bleachers, where throngs of fans armed with mitts hoped to catch balls launched off the bats of Sammy Sosa, Barry Bonds, Vladimir Guerrero and the like. Being of short stature and dripping with sweat, Andra and I soon gave up our vain attempts to retrieve a ball and headed for the air-conditioned souvenir shops to fulfill our gift lists.

We finally found our way to our upper deck seats and joined Andra's brother Aaron as the last group of American League stars, including Derek Jeter, Alfonso Soriano, Jason Giambi, and Manny Ramirez were batting while other stars milled around the outfield, lackadaisically shagging fly balls alongside their small children. Giambi seemed to be the only one of the group consistently reaching the seats; as I passed this observation along I was told that we'd missed quite a show from the NL sluggers. Oh well. Adam and Matt, who had seats in the deck below us, came up bearing slips of paper for a drawing. With eight of us in our group (spread all over the park), each would draw the name of a slugger and kick in $5 for a pool to be split, $30 for the winner and $10 for the runner-up. As I'd already expressed a prediction that Giambi would fare well in the contest, I winced as I unfolded my slip to find Lance Berkman's name.

At 7 PM, it was finally time for the Home Run Derby, and the crowd cheered wildly as an overhead shot of Miller Park, with a star mowed into the outfield grass, was shown on the Jumbotron. A buzz filled the air as eight sluggers, four from each league, were introduced: Paul Konerko, Richie Sexson (representing the hometown Brewers), Torii Hunter, Sosa, Giambi, Berkman, Alex Rodriguez, and Bonds.

The rules of the Home Run Derby are simple: batters can take pitches, but any swing that doesn't result in a home run is an out. Once a batter records 10 outs, his turn is done. The top four of the first round would advance to the semifinals, where they would pair off into two head-to-head matches which would determine the finalists. Ties in the first round would be broken by the number of regular-season homers each player had hit; any ties beyond that would be broken by a swing-off, with each batter's turn lasting until he made an out.

Konerko opened the Derby and set the pace with 6 homers, mostly to leftfield, before recording his 10 outs. Sexson was next, as the crowd cheered their representative vigorously. The lanky 6-foot-7 slugger struggled to find his swing, making outs on his first four attempts. He looked all but finished when his count stood at 2 homers against 8 outs. But Richie rose to the occasion and began launching some bombs, eventually tying Konerko with 6 and besting him in the long distance category with a 480-foot shot.

The next batter, Minnesota's Torii Hunter, started off hot, with homers in two of his first three swings. But he soon began spraying ground balls and line drives, eating up precious outs. By the end of his turn, he'd scored only 3 dingers, the longest being a 420-foot shot to centerfield.

Next came Sosa, and the crowd erupted as his name was called. Though his cap was turned backwards, Junior Griffey-style, Sosa gave a look that said he was all business as he stepped into the batter's box. He took several pitches before launching his first shot, then the oohing and aahing began in earnest. Nothing much, just your run-of-the-mill 480-foot blast. Sosa rattled one that pinballed around the scoreboard scaffolding for a few seconds before finally returning to earth, and hit the roof with another. But he popped up several in a row, and reached a point where he had only 5 homers to 8 outs.

Then Sosa began one of the most amazing hitting displays I've ever seen. Six straight swings produced epic home runs which rattled off of the Miller Park furniture, two off of Bernie Brewer's yellow slide in high leftfield (where mascots from all around the league--the Phillie Phanatic, the Oriole Bird, Youppi, and the Miller Park Sausage Racers, among others--slid down Bernie's slide after each homer). From our perch in upper right, we had a magnificent view of each blast's arc. The shortest of the six shots was 496 feet, the rest over 500, the longest a Derby record 524 feet. The crowd gasped each time Sosa launched another moon shot and cheered wildly when the distance was announced. By the time he'd used up his final two outs, he had 12 homers and 40-some-thousand jaws hanging open.

Giambi, who set a first-round record with 14 homers last year, followed Sosa to considerably less fanfare. But the Yankee first baseman quickly got in a groove, lashing several screamers to right-centerfield, nearly hitting one of the $1 million Hit It Here signs sponsored by MasterCard. He ended his turn with a more than respectable 11 dingers.

My money man Berkman, who leads the majors with 29 homers, was up next. But he wasn't up to the competition. Unlike the big boys, who bypassed several hittable pitches in search of ones they could launch, Berkman began swinging impatiently at nearly everything offered, and he laced a handful of sharp grounders instead. He ended the round managing 1 measly homer, and I shredded my betting slip like a racetrack loser, cursing my luck. Rodriguez came up next and the crowd readied itself for a homer-happy display. But A-Rod never got in the swing of things and ended his round with only 2 homers, though one of them was a 492-foot monster.

Barry Bonds followed, needing 6 homers to reach the finals, as he held the tiebreaker. But Bonds had apparently realized that the hometown favorite, Sexson, was the man on the bubble. After launching a couple of gasp-inducing shots, he began spraying grounders and liners without waiting for the perfect pitch, visibly taking a dive so the Milwaukee faithful would have another chance to cheer their man. Though some of the crowd had to be disappointed that one of the game's most potent hitters was opting out, it was a classy move by Bonds to yield the spotlight.

Thus the semifinal pitted Konerko against Giambi and Sexson against Sosa. As Konerko's turn began, the retractable Miller Park roof started to close in anticipation of thundershowers (and yes, it leaked in several spots, all of them apparently over the playing field. Damn it, Bud, get a bucket!). Konerko swatted 6 homers in his round, giving Giambi something to work for. It was all the G-man could do to match his opponent; he stood at 4 homers and 8 outs before dinking one down the rightfield line (which at 345 feet is a considerably longer distance than Yankee Stadium's short 314-foot RF line). He ended up tying Konerko at 6, necessitating a swing-off. Konerko's first swing landed short of the wall, while Giambi sent one into upper right, again near the $1 million dollar sign, to win the round.

To swells of cheers, Sexson stepped back in. He got off to a slow start, making six straight outs before managing his first homer. Again, his count stood at 2 and 8, when he made a last stand, finishing the round with 4 homers.

Though he added a bit of suspense by fouling a couple early pitches off, Sosa made short work of the hometown hero. He even hit one literally out of the park, as the ball travelled through the open left-center roof panel and into the parking lot, where a young fan holding a sign that said "hit It Here, Sammy!" retrieved the ball in the rain. With 7 outs (doesn't that sound weird?), Sosa blasted a shot that everybody in the park knew was gone. Without even following the ball's trajectory, Sosa flicked the bat with a dramatic flair, the winner of the round.

So the final came down to the ebullient Cubs crusher Sosa against the affable Bronx bomber Giambi. The Yankee went first and hit several into right-center, the longest of which went 492 feet. Again, he teased the $1 million sign as the crowd moaned with mock disappointment. Sosa stepped in, looking ready to take the match. But he fouled a couple of pitches off early and began swinging without his trademark patience, making six outs before recording his first homer. The air seemingly let out of his swing, that was the only one he recorded, making Giambi the Home Run Derby champion. Still, it was tough to be disappointed in Sosa after the unforgettable display he'd provided in the first two rounds.

With the allegations floating around about ballplayers' steroid usage, some of the luster may have dimmed from baseball's equivalent to the Slam Dunk Contest. But juice or no, these sluggers made for an awe-inspring night at the ballpark. I challenge anybody to sit through one of these Derbies, even in the sweltering heat, as they watch the graceful parabolas emerging off those thundrous bats, and not grin from ear to ear. It's a spectacle, not a game, but it sure is spectacular.