| I enjoyed FanFest. I didn't think I would, but I did.
For those of you who don't know, FanFest is an annual event, takes place every year somewhere close to whatever ballpark is hosting the All-Star Game. Like most things these days, it's essentially a marketing gimmick, with a bunch of companies trying to sell either things or themselves.
I had a choice between FanFest and Turner Field at 2 in the afternoon, which wasn't a tough choice at all.
Now, since it's called FanFest and I'm a fan, I didn't walk around as Columnist Rob, taking notes and asking penetrating questions and doing all the other things that real reporters do. Rather, I just walked around and did the same sorts of things, thought the same sorts of thing that you would think about, had you been there.
Well, not exactly the same sorts of things. I did spend an hour doing an MLB Radio segment with Tom Keegan of the New York Post, and Bob Nightengale and Paul White of Baseball Weekly. Sitting next to Nightengale was a particular thrill, because he covered the Royals from 1985 through '89, which means he was a regular presence in my life during that time. And from what I could tell in our hour together Tuesday afternoon, Bob's a pretty nice guy, which made meeting him all the more enjoyable.
At the far end of FanFest was the stuff I like. Well, mostly. The big card companies all had booths -- Topps and Upper Deck and Fleer. Pretty standard stuff, free samples distributed by young men in polo shirts. Oh, except for the Fleer booth, which was doing its best impression of a Hooters Express. Yes, the Fleer Girls exist.
Call me a reactionary prude if you like, but I don't think that big-breasted women in tight T-shirts and form-fitting pants have any business selling baseball cards to little boys. Or for that matter, to big boys like me. And reports are the Fleer Girls were even more (less?) scantily dressed the night before at the After Dark party at FanFest.
Everything else featured, I am happy to report, fairly tame, garden-variety collectibles (notwithstanding the likelihood of forged signatures): baseball cards, Starting Lineup figures, framed photos of Ted Williams, wooden footballs engraved with the team of your choice ... we've all been there.
And as I walked past the vendors' tables, I realized that I have, finally, outgrown the desire to collect things. No more cards, no more signed balls, no more plastic likenesses of professional athletes. Nothing except books (which are a business expense, of course). Yes (I'm thinking), after all these years I'm officially a grown-up.
And then I saw the Hoyt Wilhelm baseball card. It's a 1953 Topps, one of the few Wilhelm cards that I don't already own. And so after a moment of dickering, it was mine, for the reasonable sum of 25 U.S. dollars. OK, so maybe I'm not a grown-up after all ... but I'll need Wilhelm's '53 Topps when I get around to writing my book about the knuckleball, right? After all, where else could I learn that in 1952, the rookie Wilhelm's 71 mound appearances fell just three short of the all-time record?
Thus, having convinced myself that I was indeed all grown up, I continued my adult-like stroll ... and then I saw the baseball signed by a significant number of 1944 Washington Senators. The roster included four knuckleballers, and three of them -- Roger Wolff, Mickey Haefner and Johnny Niggeling -- signed this particular, circa 1944 Rawlings baseball (but missing fellow knuckleballer Dutch Leonard). The label said $375, and after a minimal amount of bargaining -- Me: "Any wiggle room on the price?" Him: "I can go to three hundred." Me: "Do you take credit cards?" -- I had tangible proof that I am not grown up at all. At least not when it comes to knuckleball pitchers.
Moving along, and hoping no potential mates ever find out how much money I just spent on a baseball signed by some really mediocre ballplayers, I found myself at the FanFest Cyber Ballpark. Now, I don't own any video games, for two reasons: One, I don't have anybody to play with; and two, I'd spend far too much time playing with them. But you see the commercials on TV, and you can't help but wonder about them. And in the Cyber Ballpark, I could see nearly all of them in living color. I didn't actually play any of them, as I lacked the requisite patience and 11-year-old sidekick, but based just on the graphics I do have a recommendation: Sega's "World Series Baseball 2K1." The detail is amazing, from the shadows of the players to the little spots of dirt kicked up when a ball bounces off the warning track. I've really gotta get me a little boy, just so I can have an excuse to manage the Royals on my TV.
Have you seen MLB Showdown 2000? A game simulation based on collectible cards, MLB Showdown is a product of Wizards of the Coast, the powerhouse that produces games like Magic and Pokèmon. It's a good game, though I'm a little biased because the guys who designed it are fans of my column. Anyway, the company was running a human version of the game at FanFest. Each player in the lineup was represented by a real kid in a box on the field, who simply waited until it was his or her turn to hit, then rolled a giant 20-sided die.
Good game. Lousy idea for a promotion. If you're 8 years old, where's the last place in the world you want to be? Right, stuck inside a two-feet-by-three-feet box for 15 minutes. I think those poor little tykes were more bored by MLB Showdown 2000 than I was by most of Home Run Derby. Oh well, next year FanFest will be in Seattle, just a few miles from the Wizards of the Coast headquarters, and I'll bet they come up with something better.
I tried to exit FanFest twice, but couldn't quite leave because I just knew there was cool stuff I hadn't seen yet.
My first trip back, I found out that a bunch of guys are putting together a comprehensive minor-league database, under the auspices of the Museum of Minor League Baseball, which will allow anyone to track the career and statistics of anybody who ever played professional baseball. Aside from making most of my most valuable old baseball guides moot, this will be a wonderful development, and I'll keep you posted on the progress.
My second trip back, I browsed through the Hall of Fame's display. Not much there, really, just a bunch of stuff they plucked from the cellar ... but still, I loved it. The glove Walter Johnson used in 1910, John McGraw's 1918 jersey, Babe Ruth's spikes ... and my favorite, Moe Berg's catcher's mask. I know they're just collections of electrons composed in interesting ways, but they do something for me.
As did FanFest. I never thought I'd say this, but I can't wait for next year's. And if I can find one, I'm taking a kid.
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