By Matt Hicks

The 2009 Hooks season ended about two months ago, and here at the Whataburger Field offices, plans are well under way for 2010.

Fall also offers time for reflection, so, being in a reflective mood, I thought I’d share some of my thoughts and memories about the places we play – the ballparks.

The spark for my reflection ignited during our next-to-last road trip this season, when the Hooks played in Little Rock and Springfield in late August. 

On the last day of our three-game series against the Travelers, Arkansas broadcaster Phil Elson invited me to lunch and, knowing of my affinity for old ballparks and all things historic, a tour of old Ray Winder Field, home to professional baseball in Little Rock from 1932 through 2006.

The weather was beautiful at midday on this Friday – sunny, temperature in the 80s, not overly humid by Central Arkansas standards.  Phil pulled into the parking lot by the main gates at ol’ Ray Winder, and despite the fact the ballpark has remained dormant since its final game in September of 2006, the lot was nearly full of cars.  Utilized, apparently, by folks at the nearby Little Rock Zoo and/or some of the many buildings that sprawl from the University of Arkansas Medical Sciences Medical Center or the Arkansas State Hospital. 

It’s a busy place, save for Ray Winder Field.

Phil and I entered through the sliding gate not far from what used to be the Travs’ clubhouse and walked up one of the ramps on the park’s first-base side and into the seating bowl, if you can call it that, because Ray Winder has more straight lines and angles than curves.

If you had never been there before, at that moment, you would have had trouble realizing that baseball used to be played there.  The outline of what was once the playing field and diamond could only faintly be seen in spots, covered by dense grass and close to three years of nature’s unfettered growth, swallowing up the park with no signs of remorse.

And that growth was not confined to the former playing surface.  Weeds, some as tall as trees, pierced through the concrete foundation and sprouted in the former box seat sections.  Phil snapped a couple of photos of me standing next to these intruders with his cell phone camera.

We spent a few minutes in the box seat areas and never entertained the thought of walking onto the field – no telling what danger lurked in the hairy surface below.

We ventured up a series of steps to the catwalk (an aside here – there was evidence of cats, or perhaps some other four-legged creatures, living up in the walk) to make our way to the press box, an open-air structure suspended just under the roof of the grandstand above home plate.

To get to the press box, we walked on what was essentially a wooden bridge while “ducking,” at various points, under steel support beams.  On my first visit to Ray Winder in 1995, while carrying radio broadcast gear, I forgot to duck at one point, and my forehead found out just how unforgiving and painful a steel beam can be.  Didn’t make that mistake again over 12 years, and I didn’t forget to duck on this visit, either.

Given the footprint evidence in the thick dust, Phil and I carefully and slowly opened the wooden door to the press box, lest some rabies-laden creature come bounding out to defend his or her adopted home.  Outside of a few bees, Phil and I were safe.

We stayed there for a while, reminiscing about the many hours we had each spent in that press box.  For me, memories from my El Paso days, like watching Alex Cabrera slug home runs in four consecutive at-bats over two nights; Steve Randolph throwing the only no-hitter in the 31-year history of the Diablos; the mercury hitting 126 in the press box at the outset of play on a 112-degree August evening when we clinched a second-half title in 2000 despite losing to the Travs.

More recently, memories of my first two years with the Hooks included peering down into the visitors’ dugout on the third-base side to see newcomer Walter Young leaning back in a metal folding chair wearing a jersey and his Under Armour shorts, only to find out later that he couldn’t play in his first game with the Hooks since none of the extra pants we had on the trip would fit him.  Or the night when the lights went out in and around the ballpark, interrupting play for about 40 minutes in a thrilling game that the Hooks rallied to win.

The memories of Ray Winder Field are much more profound for Phil, who spent six seasons in that wooden box with cracked tile flooring, steel cross beams and outdoor carpet atop the ledges.  He spotted an attractive woman in the seats below through his binoculars from that box and she later became his wife.  That’s a great story in itself.

And outside of his marriage to Julie and the birth of their daughter this season, one of Phil’s greatest memories is of that final game at Ray Winder and the exuberant overflow crowd that was filled with emotion.  He even wrote a tribute to the ballpark that he read over the public address system from that press box during the last pre-game ceremony.

Sharing the memories with Phil was great, but there was sadness as well with the obvious decay surrounding us.  Is this the fate of Ray Winder, to be consumed by the ravages of time?

You’d think the powers-that-be in Little Rock would do something to preserve this slice of Arkansas history – in a city filled with history.  Central High School and Museum, the Clinton Presidential Center and Library, the Old State House. 

But the fate of Ray Winder remains up in the air.  The adjacent zoo may use the area for expansion, or the nearby Medical Center may absorb it for parking or another purpose.  In the meantime it just sits – unused and dilapidated and a growing eyesore.

It doesn’t have to be that way.

Ray Winder is certainly not unique in its current state of demise.  The Coliseum here in Corpus Christi comes to mind.  But at the other end of the what-to-do-with-an-old-ballpark spectrum is the Durham Athletic Park in Durham, North Carolina.

The venue made famous by the 1988 movie Bull Durham was home to the Durham Bulls from 1926 through 1994.  A project in the neighborhood of $5 million began back in July of 2008 and in August of this year the renovated DAP had a grand opening under the auspices of Minor League Baseball. 

The organization operates the DAP and uses it as a training center for business and facility operations.  In fact, MiLB just hosted its inaugural Sports Turf Managers Clinic at the DAP in late October.  The renovated ballpark will also host North Carolina Central University baseball games and other Durham city events.

Now I realize that Durham Athletic Park is different.  The film featuring Kevin Costner and Susan Sarandon vaulted it to icon status and made it the most recognizable minor league ballpark in history.  Minor League Baseball and civic-minded philanthropists can’t swoop in and save every park – I know that.  But it is a glowing example of what can be done to preserve a special piece of our game’s history.

And I use it here because of what we’re talking about – memories.  My first broadcast of a professional baseball game took place at the old Durham Athletic Park in April of 1989, the year after the release of Bull Durham.  Jerry Narron managed our club, the Frederick Keys, in his first season as a manager.  Grady Little managed the Bulls. 

And Durham’s starter that day, Dennis Burlingame, hurled a perfect game.  That’s right, a perfect game for my first game in pro ball.  What a way to start!

A few years later at the DAP, I had the opportunity to meet and interview Frank Howard, who at the time was a roving hitting instructor in the Braves’ organization.  Howard was the larger-than-life slugging star of the Washington Senators in the late ’60s when I was a lad of about 9 or 10 rooting hard for the perennial last-place team in the American League.  Meeting him was a real privilege. 

I could write a book just about the memories at Durham Athletic Park.  It is a special place.  Just like Ray Winder and many other parks throughout our game.

We can’t necessarily hold on to the concrete and steel that form the ballparks of the past.  But we can hold on to the memories.  Ray Winder Field was not a place – rather, it was a place in time.  For 75 years.

Whataburger Field is still in its infancy and creating memories every day.  Our generation and others to come will treasure their time here for many years.

Change, however, is inevitable.  When the Hooks open the 2010 season at Tulsa’s brand new facility, ONEOK Field, there will only be one Texas League ballpark in operation that was used back in 1995 when I joined the circuit – San Antonio’s Wolff Municipal Stadium.  Opened in 1994, the “Wolff” is now the league’s oldest park, entering its 17^th season in 2010.

Frank Sinatra recorded a song in 1973 titled There Used to Be a Ballpark.  Popularly thought to be about old Ebbets Field and the Brooklyn Dodgers, the song applies to any park that once was and is no longer.  It certainly seems appropriate for Ray Winder…

            “…And the sky has got so cloudy

            When it used to be so clear

            And the summer went so quickly this year

            Yes, there used to be a ballpark right here”

So here’s a salute to Ray Winder Field and Durham Athletic Park and all the old ballparks where our love of the game and many other things were born and blossomed.