Savage Words: Dodging longballs in Aspen Park

In April of last year, Brandon voters elected to spend an earmarked $2.9 million on a second entrance into Aspen Park at Ironwood Street rather than spend that money on paving and building new parking lots inside Aspen.

I get that. 

The current one entrance into Aspen is a bit convoluted and the bottle neck is real, both entering and exiting, when games begin or conclude. 

Anyone who’s been to an event at Aspen Park when all nine diamonds are busy with baseballers and softballers understands the bottleneck.

I’ve been a part of them, too. I’ve heard horror stories about sitting in traffic when tornado sirens are blaring and the skies are dark and ominous. Thankfully, I’ve not been through that, but I can only imagine the anxiety that must bring.

Construction is about to get started on the new entrance at Ironwood. Again, that’s good. I have no doubt there are plans to pave the roads and parking lots inside Aspen in the future. People much smarter than me are likely currently digging through budgets to figure out that very thing.

And that has to happen, soon.

When Aspen Park is humming at full capacity, maneuvering the parking lots is a challenge, at best. It looks like the start of a Late Model Street Stock race at Huset’s when cars are nearly on top of each other and the parking decisions made by some visitors are questionable. 

But I can’t blame some of the creative parking decisions. There are no lines to help with the structure. It’s a free-for-all, and again, I get it.

Every time I go to Aspen Park to cover a baseball game at First National Bank Field, it’s always a battle in my head of convenience vs. protection.

Every time, I park behind centerfield, not too close to the centerfield fencing, but not so far away that I have to lug myself through the gravel parking lot to the field. My hope is that I park far enough away from the centerfield fencing that I don’t get a home run ball making an introduction to my windshield.

So far, so good.

It hasn’t happened yet, but there clearly has been a longball or two that’s cleared the fence as I watch from one of the baselines. 

But the other night, I knew it was close. I parked in sort of right-centerfield, two rows back. I stood on the third baseline as left-handed hitter Caleb Severin came to the plate.

Severin uncorked one in the fourth inning, and I had a lump in my throat as his homer drifted into the Brandon skyline. The shot cleared the wall by a mile in the vicinity of where I had parked, and I held my breath for a moment.

I didn’t hear any ‘ooo’s’ or ‘ah’s’ when the ball went out of sight. Well, I heard it from the fans in the stands as they cheered for the soon-to-be senior. What I was really waiting to hear was some reaction to my car getting hit.

I slowly walked towards the parking lot, hoping for the best, but preparing for the worst.

But I was fine, or at least my car was. Severin’s longball went forever, but it missed my car. 

I asked three dads in centerfield who were perched in the back of a pickup truck where Severin’s home run ball landed. 

“Right about there,” Todd Veld said, pointing about 20 feet away. “It bounced over the second row, but never hit a car.”

Veld was with Broc Halseth and Travis Lindekugel, and the three stared down batters with a direct line from centerfield for a potential home run ball.

They’ve been doing it for years, as have others. The parking outside centerfield is usually a collection of pickup trucks backed up to the fence. It offers a great view, and I’ll give them credit. Should a homer ever head their way, there’s nowhere to hide in their truck bed. 

Once the city does pave the parking lots inside Aspen, which again, I hope is sooner than later, here’s to hoping the stripes get painted right up to the centerfield fencing. I’d love to see those dudes catch a homer one day, barehanded in the back of their truck.

In the meantime, I’ll continue the battle in my head of finding a place to park, not too close, not too far away, with imaginary striped lines in my mind.