Epilogue to"On A Silver Diamond: The Story of Rochester Community Baseball from 1956-1996"The end of baseball at Silver Stadium was a bittersweet occasion. It was ironic that the closing of the ballpark finally made Rochester fans realize its value, its attraction and its place in history. The Red Wings’ departure from Silver is a natural end to an era in Rochester baseball, but not simply because the franchise would play in a new home. Although the title to Silver had been transferred to Monroe County the previous year, the move into Frontier Field symbolically marked the end of what had been a hard-won and admirable independence on the part of Rochester Community Baseball Inc. The trend in the sport centered on more elaborate facilities, with amenities for the fans that were also cash generators for team owners. In 1995, acting baseball commissioner Bud Selig had suggested, with all due seriousness, that American cities needed to build more and better stadiums for baseball to survive. Bigger and better ballparks, with luxury boxes and sweetheart leases, arm-twisted out of cities by franchises worth millions of dollars. In contrast to most of its minor- and major-league brethren, Rochester Community Baseball had, since 1957, stood on its own. For many years it was the minors’ premier franchise; first as a successful example of community ownership, then as a shining illustration of a minor-league team that could financially thrive, not just survive. Finally, it became one of the few organizations in all of baseball that could (and would) own and operate its own stadium. The Red Wings presence in Rochester cost the city and county nothing — actually it worked just the opposite, due to taxes RCB paid on its 500 Norton Street property. In the end it was not the stadium per se that was the problem. It was not really that it was too old, or inadequate, or was a bad place to watch a game. But Silver Stadium had become a financial drain on the franchise. Taxes and repairs sapped the treasury, limiting the money that could be spent on marketing the team, or keeping the stadium the sparkling facility that once was the finest in the minor leagues. By the 1980s, the stadium had become outdated, not on its own accord, but in comparison to the new wave of stadium design. Some of the old-time charm and nostalgia had been removed from Silver before it was known that old-time charm and nostalgia would be the next wave of ballpark ambience. Hand-operated scoreboards and asymmetrical outfield dimensions were part of the rage. But at Silver, the manual board was long-gone — replaced by an electrical one that was ordinary and uninspiring. And the expansive left field real estate that, by contrast, created the legendary “short porch” in right, had over time been literally and visually shortened, with the wall finally crowned by an ugly, but financially-necessary triple deck of advertising signs. Attempts to modernize Silver were simply not enough — most of the money had to go into unseen repairs needed to keep the structure standing. The timing was just not right toward the end of Silver Stadium’s lifetime. For all of the debate that has taken place as to the wisdom of some of RCB’s decisions, one thing is equivocally clear: whatever was done, either by the team, or by certain individuals, was done with the good of the franchise in mind. There were no fortunes to be made here, no excessive profits as in the majors. The 1986 renovation only bought time; perhaps the community and its leaders at that time, after witnessing so many miracles and comebacks by the franchise and its loyal fans, thought that RCB could work its magic one more time. But this time, there was no other way. Rochester, Monroe County and RCB were playing under rules in which they had little input in formulating. For the team to survive, it had to play in a publicly-funded facility. And this was not a case of a revenue-stuffed team putting the screws to a municipality. In 1990, Neil J. Sullivan, a college professor of public administration, wrote a book titled The Minors. His underlying theme is that “the minor leagues are minor because the major leagues have wanted them so. The majors have continually made decisions about personnel policies, franchise relocation, expansion, and broadcasting that were indifferent or damaging to the minors. The survival of minor league baseball is a testament to the spirit of the players and the loyalty of their fans.” Rochester Community Baseball was a victim of this greed and indifference; first in the form of decreased aid, and finally an oppressive mandate on stadium facilities that made Silver obsolete just a few years after it had been refurbished. The fact that RCB and Silver Stadium managed to survived as long as they did is a testament to what Morrie Silver organized in 1956, and Frank Horton and George Sisler Jr. helped him build in those early years. But the move from Silver Stadium was inevitable. And in the final decision to leave Silver and give up ownership of its own facility, RCB took an admirable step. Its leadership signed a lease that its own league commissioner decried, so much did the team agree to help shoulder the financial risk with Monroe County. The loss of the Red Wings would not have been a death blow to this community. For all of the positives that Frontier Field offers — at the foremost, the continued existence of Rochester baseball — it comes with some costs. Some of it is literal: the tacked-on stadium surcharge that has helped raise ticket prices and the possibility that, at some point, tax monies may be needed to keep the facility operating. The move marks an end of innocence. Whether they like it or not, RCB, the city and county, and Red Wings’ fans have been dragged into the corporate business culture of sports in the 1990s. True, Frontier Field has things that could never be realized at Silver: luxury suites, seats with cup holders and closed-circuit television in concession areas. But likewise did Silver Stadium have features that can never come to pass at Frontier: big-name veterans, such as Hall of Famer George Sisler Sr., coming to play in the minors after big-league careers are finished; major-league teams coming to town for exhibitions on open dates in their schedule; roaring bonfires in the left field bullpens on a cool spring night. For every person that attends his or her first baseball game, the grass of the field will never again seem so vivid. That moment can never be relived. And for many Rochester fans for years to come, that long-remembered instant will have taken place at 500 Norton St. Silver Stadium may be physically gone, but in our minds, it will always serve as a memorial to much different times, much different players, and in many ways, a much different sport. Silver Stadium served its team and community well. Hopefully Frontier
Field will do the same. And may the leaders of Rochester Community Baseball
Inc. continue to successfully balance the needs of the franchise with
those of the community in which it plays. |