Freeway Series Fans Catch It: Baseball Fever

‘We’ve been counting the days for the season to start.’ --Patti Casey

Talk about diehards.

Debbie Casey, a 31-year-old keyboard operator who missed only six ball games last year, was just back from a Dodger-sponsored cruise to the Caribbean and a trip to the Angels spring training camp in Palm Springs.

But in case anyone might mistake where her baseball loyalties lie, Casey--resembling a live souvenir stand in her Dodger jacket, visor and blue and white dress--wore the gold numbers 7 and 17 around her neck to salute her favorite former Dodgers, Steve Yeager and Rick Monday.

“I’ve been waiting ever so desperately for the season to begin,” said Casey, who sat between her sister, Patti, and cruisemate, Mahala Jory, deep in Anaheim Stadium’s left field Sunday to watch the Angels squash the Dodgers 10-8.

Casey and company were among 61,538 baseball fans who sat under threatening skies for the last game of the Freeway Series, a three-game, pre-season ritual and final dress rehearsal before the curtain rises on Opening Day in stadiums across America.

Not surprisingly, the talk in the stands turned to this year’s pennant races. But there was also time to savor the crack of the bat, the hot dogs

and the joy of being back among the boys of summer.

“We’ve been counting the days for the season to start,” added Patti Casey, 24, her eyes twinkling as she recounted how Yankee pitcher Dave Righetti sent her a thank-you note after he got the blanket she made him one Christmas.

Sunday’s crowd was schizophrenic to say the least. Fans cheered when the Dodgers’ first batter, Mariano Duncan, struck out swinging, but then rose to their feet when the Dodger third baseman Bill Madlock singled.

There were other signs that the game was more for fun than for blood. The crowd politely waited for Rick Weisman to finish singing the last note of the National Anthem before breaking into wild applause--an unusual, if not downright rare occurrence during the regular season. “I’m an avid Angel fan,” said season ticket holder Kelly Adams, who spent a good part of the first two innings getting food for her family. As she smoothed out green relish on a hot dog, the 22-year-old Orange County resident added: “But I like to see the two teams play and not have to root. The pressure is off.”

Rooting for Both Teams

In a field box behind home plate, Scott Martinez, 18, said the Freeway Series “gives me a chance to root for both teams. When you come to watch a team like the Cleveland Indians,” he explained, “you don’t know anyone to root for.”

Some fans came to get a head start on their autograph collections.

“Mr. Pettis! Mr. Pettis!” shouted 10-year-old Danica McShane, who like an anxious schoolgirl waiting to get called on, waved a paper and pen without success at Angel outfielder Gary Pettis. Joyce Miller was luckier. When Reggie Jackson emerged from the Angels’ dugout and looked up at the striking brunette, she called out, “Could I get you to sign my baby’s hat?” Jackson was all smiles. “You could get me to do almost anything,” he said to the young mother from Upland.

Miller shrugged good-naturedly. “What do you expect from a single man?” she said.

Others fans, like 14-year-old Pat Hannon, on vacation from Buffalo, were thrilled to be at a baseball park on the eve of yet another baseball season.

“It’s awesome,” said Hannon, whose young face quickly saddened when he was asked how he spent the snowy off-season in Buffalo. “I lived,” he said softly. “And I played a little hockey.”

While the fans poured in for the 1:05 p.m. game, the teams took batting practice. Players, reporters and other hangers-on schmoozed, talking about condo sales, this year’s prospects and Dodger outfielder Pedro Guerrero’s stunning knee injury in last week’s game against the Atlanta Braves.

“I’m pretty sad about Guerrero,” said Josh Mooney, 11, from Mission Viejo, who along with two friends was bent over the waist-high fence in left field, hoping to catch a stray foul ball or player.

“But when (Franklin) Stubbs came in and hit two homers (in Friday’s game), I kinda felt better about losing Pedro.” High up in Nosebleed Heaven, the highest rows of the stadium, Detlev Mitchell sat among the 45 friends with whom he rented a bus for Sunday’s game.

“It’s almost opening day,” he muttered dreamily, nursing a beer. “Less than 24 hours away.”