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May 23—A. Bartlett Giamatti died in 1989, just six months into his tenure as the commissioner of Major League Baseball.
Formerly a literature professor and president of Yale University, today he is best remembered for two things: His lifetime ban of Pete Rose (imposed just eight days before Giamatti's death), and a brief passage from his 1989 book, "Take Time for Paradise: Americans and Their Games."
About baseball, Giamatti wrote: "It breaks your heart. It is designed to break your heart. The game begins in the spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone."
Southeast Minnesota has welcomed spring in all its glory, and with it comes the promise of baseball. The Rochester Honkers open their season at Mayo Field on Wednesday, and the team that has won more Northwoods League titles (five) than any other franchise will take the field with all of the optimism and joy that is synonymous with Opening Day — but with a dark cloud looming on the horizon.
This might the the last home opener for the Honkers. When the final pitch is thrown this fall and the chill rains come, there's no guarantee that the following spring (or any other spring) will bring the renewed promise of Northwoods League baseball in Rochester.
The problem is Mayo Field.
Not the field itself. By all accounts, the dirt-and-grass playing surface is among the best in the Northwoods League. But the locker rooms (we can't call them clubhouses) are cramped and shabby, and so is the press box. The bleachers offer zero creature comforts, the concessions stand is minuscule, and the restrooms — well, don't get us started about the restrooms.
These issues aren't new. City leaders have been well aware of Mayo Field's warts for more than a decade but have taken no substantial action to fix the problems, while some other Northwoods League cities have invested millions in their publicly-owned stadiums.
This inaction has put the Honkers at a huge competitive disadvantage. The Northwoods League features college players who aren't paid, so the best recruiting tools are good housing, quality food, comfortable transportation, a modern clubhouse and a high-quality game-day experience in front of big crowds.
The Honkers can promise most of those things, but not a modern clubhouse or big crowds. The Honkers ranked 18th out of 24 teams in attendance last season, drawing an average of 851 fans per game. The Madison Mallards led the league with nearly 6,000 per game, and among the smaller-market teams that bested the Honkers' attendance were Willmar, St. Cloud, Mankato and Duluth.
College baseball players talk to each other, so they know which cities and teams offer the best overall experience. That might be why last year the Honkers finished tied for last place in the 24-team league, with a record-setting 54 losses. Rochester hasn't qualified for the postseason play since 2011.
The Honkers' ownership group finally has decided to play hardball with the city. In late April, team president and co-owner Chris Goodell stated that 2026 will be the team's last season at Mayo Field.
This isn't a threat. This isn't a leverage play. This is business, pure and simple. Goodell is part of a group — Bases Loaded Entertainment — that also owns Northwoods League franchises in La Crosse, Wisconsin, and Mankato, and next year will launch an expansion team in Dyersville, Iowa, at the well-known Field of Dreams.
These owners are all-in on baseball, and we can't blame them for growing weary of pouring resources into a team that is chronically hamstrung by an inferior facility. So, barring some sort of miracle, it appears that the Honkers will be on hiatus for the 2027 season, at the very least. Whether they return in 2028, or perhaps three or four years from now, will be up to Rochester.
Renovating Mayo Field seems to be off the table, The city has placed the site on its "disposition" list, which means Rochester wants to get it off its books. So, a new stadium at a new site is the only real solution, and there's zero chance that any Northwoods League team could fund such a project.
It's a big ask for Rochester, especially when plenty of local taxpayers are rightfully miffed about the sports complex that's being built on the southeast side — a complex that promises to benefit local hotels and restaurants but will likely do little for the average Rochester resident.
But Rochester needs a baseball stadium — and not just for the Honkers. Mayo Field has a rich history of hosting amateur, American Legion and high school baseball games. Built right, a new baseball stadium would likely see near-daily action from early April to mid-October. In the winter, we even dare to dream it could someday host "Hockey Day Minnesota."
Where could such a stadium be built? At what cost? With whose money?
Possible sites include the former Silver Lake Power Plant downtown, or the former Seneca site near the Olmsted County Fairgrounds. Both are intriguing possibilities with adequate acreage, but both also present a lot of complications. It's difficult to imagine a new stadium being ready for play at either site within three years, so undeveloped land on the city's outskirts might prove a better option. Or at least a faster one.
We won't hazard a guess regarding the price, but it's a safe bet that the longer Rochester waits, the more expensive a stadium will be.
It would be money well-spent. Forgive us for waxing nostalgic, but baseball is Americana. As the poet Walt Whitman once wrote, "It's our game — the American game." There's something magical about sitting in the bleachers on a warm summer evening. A hot dog and a cold beer. Kids begging for autographs and scrambling for foul balls. The smell of popcorn and pizza. The crack of the bat.
OK, we can't resist: If Rochester builds it, people will come. They will most definitely come.
Continue reading...
Formerly a literature professor and president of Yale University, today he is best remembered for two things: His lifetime ban of Pete Rose (imposed just eight days before Giamatti's death), and a brief passage from his 1989 book, "Take Time for Paradise: Americans and Their Games."
About baseball, Giamatti wrote: "It breaks your heart. It is designed to break your heart. The game begins in the spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone."
Southeast Minnesota has welcomed spring in all its glory, and with it comes the promise of baseball. The Rochester Honkers open their season at Mayo Field on Wednesday, and the team that has won more Northwoods League titles (five) than any other franchise will take the field with all of the optimism and joy that is synonymous with Opening Day — but with a dark cloud looming on the horizon.
This might the the last home opener for the Honkers. When the final pitch is thrown this fall and the chill rains come, there's no guarantee that the following spring (or any other spring) will bring the renewed promise of Northwoods League baseball in Rochester.
The problem is Mayo Field.
Not the field itself. By all accounts, the dirt-and-grass playing surface is among the best in the Northwoods League. But the locker rooms (we can't call them clubhouses) are cramped and shabby, and so is the press box. The bleachers offer zero creature comforts, the concessions stand is minuscule, and the restrooms — well, don't get us started about the restrooms.
These issues aren't new. City leaders have been well aware of Mayo Field's warts for more than a decade but have taken no substantial action to fix the problems, while some other Northwoods League cities have invested millions in their publicly-owned stadiums.
This inaction has put the Honkers at a huge competitive disadvantage. The Northwoods League features college players who aren't paid, so the best recruiting tools are good housing, quality food, comfortable transportation, a modern clubhouse and a high-quality game-day experience in front of big crowds.
The Honkers can promise most of those things, but not a modern clubhouse or big crowds. The Honkers ranked 18th out of 24 teams in attendance last season, drawing an average of 851 fans per game. The Madison Mallards led the league with nearly 6,000 per game, and among the smaller-market teams that bested the Honkers' attendance were Willmar, St. Cloud, Mankato and Duluth.
College baseball players talk to each other, so they know which cities and teams offer the best overall experience. That might be why last year the Honkers finished tied for last place in the 24-team league, with a record-setting 54 losses. Rochester hasn't qualified for the postseason play since 2011.
The Honkers' ownership group finally has decided to play hardball with the city. In late April, team president and co-owner Chris Goodell stated that 2026 will be the team's last season at Mayo Field.
This isn't a threat. This isn't a leverage play. This is business, pure and simple. Goodell is part of a group — Bases Loaded Entertainment — that also owns Northwoods League franchises in La Crosse, Wisconsin, and Mankato, and next year will launch an expansion team in Dyersville, Iowa, at the well-known Field of Dreams.
These owners are all-in on baseball, and we can't blame them for growing weary of pouring resources into a team that is chronically hamstrung by an inferior facility. So, barring some sort of miracle, it appears that the Honkers will be on hiatus for the 2027 season, at the very least. Whether they return in 2028, or perhaps three or four years from now, will be up to Rochester.
Renovating Mayo Field seems to be off the table, The city has placed the site on its "disposition" list, which means Rochester wants to get it off its books. So, a new stadium at a new site is the only real solution, and there's zero chance that any Northwoods League team could fund such a project.
It's a big ask for Rochester, especially when plenty of local taxpayers are rightfully miffed about the sports complex that's being built on the southeast side — a complex that promises to benefit local hotels and restaurants but will likely do little for the average Rochester resident.
But Rochester needs a baseball stadium — and not just for the Honkers. Mayo Field has a rich history of hosting amateur, American Legion and high school baseball games. Built right, a new baseball stadium would likely see near-daily action from early April to mid-October. In the winter, we even dare to dream it could someday host "Hockey Day Minnesota."
Where could such a stadium be built? At what cost? With whose money?
Possible sites include the former Silver Lake Power Plant downtown, or the former Seneca site near the Olmsted County Fairgrounds. Both are intriguing possibilities with adequate acreage, but both also present a lot of complications. It's difficult to imagine a new stadium being ready for play at either site within three years, so undeveloped land on the city's outskirts might prove a better option. Or at least a faster one.
We won't hazard a guess regarding the price, but it's a safe bet that the longer Rochester waits, the more expensive a stadium will be.
It would be money well-spent. Forgive us for waxing nostalgic, but baseball is Americana. As the poet Walt Whitman once wrote, "It's our game — the American game." There's something magical about sitting in the bleachers on a warm summer evening. A hot dog and a cold beer. Kids begging for autographs and scrambling for foul balls. The smell of popcorn and pizza. The crack of the bat.
OK, we can't resist: If Rochester builds it, people will come. They will most definitely come.
Continue reading...
