California League Earns Its A : Teams Flourishing in the Shadow of Dodgers and Angels

In a smoggy suburban maze 42 miles from Dodger Stadium, 5,000 fans pack a new $11-million ballpark to see a minor league baseball game.

The Rancho Cucamonga Quakes are in last place; their opponent, not much better.

The biggest name on the field is Scott Garrelts. Once a 14-game winner for the San Francisco Giants, Garrelts is attempting to rejuvenate a failing career. He has not pitched in the big leagues since 1991.

This is the marquee player.

The fans barely notice. The participants seem inconsequential.

A night at the “Epicenter” still is thoroughly entertaining and, at a price less than a movie ticket, delightfully affordable.

If there is a star to this show, it is Tremor, No. 4.8 in the program. He is the home club’s “Rallysaurous,” an endearing dinosaur who snuggles small children, chews on the appendages of adults and plays field hockey with opposing players.

The last time Kevin Briley checked, the Dodgers and Angels did not have a mascot like Tremor.

Nor did they boast a fireworks fountain in left field, contemporary music and promotions between innings, or Mr. and Miss Trash, a Ken and Barbie-like sanitation crew who keep the aisles clean.

Briley, a bank security guard who resides in Upland, used to attend games in Los Angeles and Anaheim three or four times a month. Then, in April, he came to watch a Quakes game “just to see what all the fuss was about.”

He has been to one Dodger game since, as the guest of a friend.

“Why would I want to drive farther and pay more for a seat that’s not nearly as good when we have more fun here?” Briley said from his seat behind the first base dugout.

In territory once thought to be the sole province of the Dodgers and Angels, growing legions of baseball fans are expressing similar sentiments.

Rancho Cucamonga, averaging more than 4,800 fans per game, already has established a California League season attendance record. Teams located in Adelanto (near Victorville), Bakersfield and Palm Springs also are among the Class-A league’s top draws.

These teams obviously do not rival big-league clubs such as the Dodgers and Angels in terms of popularity, but they have proven that minor and major league franchises can co-exist.

Eight years ago, Bakersfield was southernmost among the Cal League’s nine clubs. Now, more than half of the 10-team league operates between Bakersfield and Palm Springs, all within a three-hour drive of Los Angeles.

During the league’s southern migration, attendance has steadily increased. California League attendance was a record 1.17 million last season, an increase of 51.4% over 1988. This season, the league is on pace to surpass 1.2 million.

Between Palm Springs and Adelanto, home of the High Desert Mavericks, five teams are grouped within a 1-hour, 50-minute drive. In no other place in the nation do as many teams in the same league play in such proximity.

On several occasions this season, baseball fans--were they so inclined--could have watched a game in each of six ballparks on consecutive days.

The Times sent a reporter and a photographer to chronicle their experiences at each ballpark during one such stretch--from San Bernardino to Adelanto to Bakersfield to Rancho Cucamonga to Riverside to Palm Springs.

What they witnessed was baseball in a time warp, the romance of the game returned.

The elaborate and polished production at Rancho Cucamonga is the exception rather than the norm. A Quakes game is a glance at what a typical minor league game might look like in the next century.

At Bakersfield, conversely, the Class-A Dodgers play in a ballpark stuck in the 1940s. The roof of the grandstand at Sam Lynn Ballpark is an old hayloft, and many of the stadium’s facilities--including a broom closet-sized visitor’s clubhouse--are antiquated.

However, the park also provides a feel of history and tradition, minor-league style. Visitors walking through the main entrance are greeted by larger-than-life murals of former Dodger greats such as the late Don Drysdale.

Each of the franchises, teams and ballparks have unique qualities. They also share traits that offer clues as to why league attendance continues to rise.

Smaller minor league parks provide an intimacy lost in larger, steel and concrete multipurpose facilities that set fans back hundreds of feet from the action.

Rick Dempsey, manager of the Bakersfield Dodgers, is so close to the paying customers down the third base line that he engages fans in a running dialogue.

“You have more of a feel for the game,” said Sam Barton, a retired coach who is a regular at Bakersfield games. “You hear players say things and do things. The sounds of baseball. . . .”

Just then, Barton was interrupted by the crack of a single off a wood bat. “Like that,” he added. “At Dodger Stadium, you don’t hear that.”

There are, however, a few things you hear at major league parks that you do not experience at minor league fields: a player declining a child’s request for an autograph, for instance.

At High Desert’s modern 3,500-seat stadium among the sagebrush and Joshua trees of Adelanto, the Mavericks go out of their way to encourage young autograph seekers. Before games, the club sets up a booth on the field where fans mingle with the players.

And, on occasion, the players seek out the fans.

“We know what great support we have so whether it’s going out to a soccer game or a baseball game to sign autographs, we do what we can,” says Ken Kendrena, a High Desert relief pitcher and former Cal State Northridge standout. “To me, someone asking for my autograph is kind of an honor. What are they asking you to do? Just sign your name.”

Most Class-A players sign, and do it with a smile.

“The players at this level are still untainted,” said Sue Bond, San Bernardino’s business manager. “They’ll stand there as long as they can and sign autographs, and the kids can touch them and be right there.

“You can’t do that at Anaheim Stadium, and I think that’s why people enjoy coming out here.”

One June night at High Desert, 800 youngsters--some of them T-Ball players, others students who were recognized for perfect attendance--were individually introduced over the stadium’s public-address system before the game.

After the Mavericks took the field, the youngsters were invited to stand next to a player of their choice during the national anthem. The players were swarmed. The game started 10 minutes late while the kids were ushered back into the stands, but no one seemed to mind.

High Desert maintains a grassy knoll down the right-field line where kids can play during a game.

In Bakersfield, night games are routinely interrupted while the sun sets beyond the center-field fence. The club tried to provide a suitable hitting background by spending $60,000 to erect a 50-foot by 120-foot screen in left-center field.

Unfortunately, the club placed its “Sun Screen” a tad too far to the left, allowing the sun to peek around its right edge anyway. Welcome to the minor leagues.

At the Riverside Sports Center, the outfield grass resembles an ocean swell. The turf slopes from the outfield fence in, then bubbles up again where it meets the infield clay.

Before a game in Palm Springs, the desert heat is so stifling that players take batting practice in shorts.

Angels Stadium in Palm Springs has a sort of built-in cooling system. Water lines strung from the top of the park’s grandstand emit a fog-like mist that showers fans. The lines are operated manually, allowing some sections to stay dry while others are wet, according to the preference of the fans.

The Angels relocated from Rohnert Park, north of San Francisco, in 1986. Their survival in Palm Springs helped start the league’s southern migration.

The same year, an ownership group headed by Ken McMullen, a former Dodger and Angel third baseman, moved a franchise from Lodi to Ventura County.

The experiment in Ventura County was doomed to failure. The Gulls, a Toronto Blue Jays’ affiliate, were forced to play home games during the day because their facility at Ventura College did not have lights.

After one season, the club was sold and moved to San Bernardino, where it led the league in attendance for five consecutive seasons. That team, which has since been sold again, became Rancho Cucamonga.

The franchise that McMullen’s group reportedly paid $100,000 for in 1985 now could be worth more than $4 million, league experts estimate.

Joe Gagliardi, president of the California League, estimates each franchise is worth at least $1.4 million.

A typical Class-A player makes about $1,000 a month and gets a $12 per diem for road games. Maybe that’s why the players seem to hunger for the game.

“I prefer watching these guys,” said Lee Robb, an 85-year-old San Bernardino fan. “They hustle.”

* ON THE ROAD: Taking the highways to Class-A baseball. C8

* THEY HAVE SPIRIT: San Bernardino boasts an avid following. C9