Take Me Out to the Friendliest Ballpark

 

The Day the Microphone Went on the Fritz During the National Anthem

It calls itself “America’s Friendliest Ballpark” and you’d be hard pressed to find any stadium where the staff and concession workers are any friendlier, from the kid at the entrance holding a sign that says “May I Help You” to the popcorn vendor who insists on filling your tub with popcorn coming straight out of the popper. “Doesn’t get any fresher.”

I live half an hour away from Smokies Stadium, the minor league park that is home to the Chicago Cubs Double-A franchise. It supposedly sits in Kodak, Tennessee but since I’ve never seen Kodak proper, I just tell people it’s at the Gatlinburg exit off I-40. (Some folks prefer to call it the Dollywood exit and with the recent opening of the mega-gas station/convenience store out of Texas, it may soon be known as the Buc-ee’s exit.)

This past weekend the wife and I headed east to Kodak for an afternoon contest between the Tennessee Smokies and the blandly-named opponent the Mississippi Braves. (Other teams in the same league include such crazy-named franchises as the Rocket City Trash Pandas, the Biloxi Shuckers and the Montgomery Biscuits.)

It was a beautiful day, what Dizzy Dean used to call shirt-sleeve weather, 85 degrees with a comforting breeze.

After many years as an afterthought, minor league baseball has returned to its roots as a place to go for fun. Every Smokies game has a theme, from Star Wars Night to Bigfoot Chase Night to Pete the Cat Night featuring an appearance by a YouTube cat that I’ve never heard of.

It takes me back to my childhood when minor league games might feature a milking contest between opposing players or an appearance by the Clown Prince of Baseball Al Schachter and maybe, every few seasons, a wedding at home plate!

On August 23, 1947 Kingsport Cherokees second baseman Bill Polston married local girl Mary Nell Adkins at home plate in J. Fred Johnson Stadium. For the record Polston went 0 for 3 with an error that afternoon. The marriage produced four sons and lasted a lifetime.

The off the field events are now family friendly, games with kids competing between innings, bowling with pomegranates and cumquats to win jerseys and tickets.

The National Anthem at America’s Friendliest Ballpark is never a recording but always a local singer or group. This past Sunday it was a four-woman church choir. As the staff was setting up the microphone behind home plate, my wife expressed concern. They really need four mikes not one, she said The melody will be overwhelmed with just one mike.

That didn’t turn out to be the problem. The problem was the mike went on the fritz. So when the choir began singing, they were inaudible. Then the microphone would cut back in and blast “by the dawn’s early light” before cutting out again. The audio technicians in the booth were frantically turning knobs, trying to correct the problem but it only made it worse. “At the twilight’s last gleaming” screeched and then cut out.

And that’s when it began.

The crowd, some 4,639 strong, began singing, picking up the choir. No one had stood up to encourage the group sing; the public address announcer didn’t try to lead the chorus. It was entirely spontaneous, teenagers with their boyfriends, veterans in wheel chairs in the handicapped section, moms and dads, kids in Smokies tee shirts, all united.

People were looking around at each other. Is this really happening?

After “O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave!” the crowd erupted.

It was the best National Anthem ever.

 

 

Walk Up Songs

We didn’t have “Walk Up Songs” when I was playing baseball but they are ubiquitous now. There are even lists online for Best Little League Walk Up Songs! What’s a walk-up song? It’s a tune, usually a snippet of a popular song, that is played over the public address system as a player approaches the batter’s box. (Or as a relief pitcher comes on.) Today each player picks his or her own song, a tune that reflects their personality, or self-perceived personality. But in the beginning – back in the seventies – it was the organist for the Chicago White Sox, Nancy Faust, who decided to play a different “walk up song” for each Sox player. She would play the state song from each player’s home state. Eventually the practice caught on and by the nineties it was a full-blown tradition.

One of the first players to request a specific song, according to MLB.com, was the Phillies Lenny Dykstra who requested Tom Petty’s “Won’t Back Down.”

But the first player completely identified with a specific song was Cubs’ relief pitcher Mitch Williams who would race in from the bullpen as the organist played “Wild Thing.”

Now every player wants an identifying song.

I would, too.

As we were sitting in the ball park Sunday, watching batters approach the plate, I began pondering, What should my walk-up song be? My first thought was, I need to think about this. But a few seconds later, I an answer popped in my head.

I would walk up to the plate with the PA playing an old Chiffons’ song:

Do lang, do lang, do lang.

Do lang, do lang.

He’s so fine.

I wish he were mine.

That handsome boy over there.

The one with the wavy hair.

That’s when I decided the PA person should cut the song right before it got to “wavy hair.”

That’s not me.

What should your "walk up song" be?

 

 

The One, The Only: Kingsport!

 

There's Only One Kingsport

Fun Fest is winding up for this year. 

It is the time of year when Kingsport puffs out its chest and proclaims:

We're number one!

But you know what? We are number one.

Kingsport is unique, singular, one of a kind.

Just look us up on the Internet. Or in a gazetteer.

The most famous Bristol in America isn’t the one that straddles the Tennessee-Virginia border. It’s the one in Connecticut, home to ESPN.

Johnson City shares its renown with the Johnson City in Texas, immortalized by its native son, President Lyndon Johnson, who located his Texas White House there.

There are more famous Morristown’s than the one down the road - the one in New Jersey to start with.

But the most famous Kingsport in America? Take a bow. It’s us.

Maybe it’s because of Fun Fest or native son John Palmer or Pal’s.

But I think there’s probably an even simpler explanation.

We’re it.

There is no other Kingsport in the U.S. of A.

Nein, nada.

Which strikes me as one of the stranger oddities of the gazetteer. King is such a common name - the 30th most common name in America according to the U.S. Census Bureau with slightly more than a half million people claiming it as their surname. Since numerous towns derive their name from their shipping port origins, you would think there’d be a bounty of Kingsport’s across this land. But there’s not.

There is a Kingsport in Nova Scotia, Canada.

And there is a fictional Kingsport created by horror novelist H.P. Lovecraft and called by him the “City in the Mist.”

But in the real Great 48 no one else has our name.

How do I know? I didn’t until John Reed told me. It had never occurred to me that there wasn’t another Kingsport.

How did John know? “I was a lad and the Times-News published an article about how there's only one Kingsport.  As I recall, they verified that fact in those pre-Internet days by mailing a postcard from somewhere up north to Somebody, Street Address, Kingsport - no state, and of course no zip code in those days.  This was back when ‘the mail must go through’ was the Post Office motto, and somebody looked up ‘Kingsport’ and added Tennessee to the address.  Amazing, huh?”

You can confirm our unique status by going on the Internet and typing “Kingsport” into a search engine. Eventually you will get to Kingsport, Canada and Kingsport, City in the Mist, and even vintage Kingsport brand shirts. But you have to go deep into the search pages.  

Why folks named King are so un-nautical and didn’t found more ports is another question, one that I don’t have the answer to.

Bennett & Edwards ad from 1949

The Most Popular Town and City Names

 Bristol, Kentucky Doesn't Exist - Tell That to Al Roker

I was watching the “Today” show the other day when weatherman Al Roker reported a storm was barreling down the nation’s midsection, all the way from Chicago to – here he looked at his map and saw a city labeled Bristol – “all the way to Bristol, Kentucky.”

Huh? I lived in Kentucky for 25 years and I never heard of a Bristol, Kentucky, much less a Bristol, Kentucky big enough to get mentioned on national TV by none other than Al Roker.

On the map it was clear, to me at least, that it was Bristol, Tennessee.

Al may – or may not – know his weather but he clearly doesn’t know his geography. Oh well, as he noted on the show, he’s only been doing this job since 1996.

I was telling this story to my friend Dick and he said, “Maybe Al’s right. Maybe it is Bristol, Kentucky. Bristol is supposed to be the most common city name in the country.”

Then Dick launched into the story of the song “Bristol Stomp.” Supposedly when the Dovells recorded the song in 1961 they wanted to make it about a common city, a city name that was in every state. Sell more records that way. And that’s why they settled on Bristol.

Another friend who had tagged along said she had always heard that Greeneville was the most common name, that every state had a Greeneville/Greenville.

For my two cents I said that I thought Springfield was the most common city name, that’s why “The Simpsons” used the name.

It was off to the internet where I knew my only challenge would be figuring out the right combination of words to Google. My first try – “most common city name in u.s.” - turned out to work. It brought up a Wikipedia page titled “List of the most common U.S. place names.”

At the top of the list with 50 entries was…drum roll…Greenville.

Almost every state has a Greenville (two don’t because New York has three). Hawaii and Washington are the only two states without a Greenville.

I thought maybe Bristol would be second.

Franklin was second. A distant second with 30.

Clinton was third (29).

My Springfield was fourth (28).

Bristol didn’t make the list.

And there isn’t a Bristol, Kentucky either, Al.

 

Wikipedia also has a page named “List of places called Bristol.”

There are 29 places named Bristol in the U.S. but Bristol didn’t qualify for the “List of the most common U.S. place names” because five are “unincorporated communities,” eight are “towns,” three are “townships,” three are “populated places,” one is a “borough” and one, the Bristol in Nevada, is categorized as a “ghost town.”

Bristol, Tennessee and Bristol, Virginia are listed as separate entities.

 

I wrote that column ten years ago. In the intervening decade the moles at Wikipedia have been working to update and improve the list. (Nothing really changed except the criteria.)

So as of July 14, 2023, here are the most common place names:

Washington - 91

Franklin - 45

Clinton - 39

Arlington - 38

Centerville - 38

Lebanon - 35

Georgetown - 35

Springfield - 35

Chester - 32

Fairview - 32

Greenville - 31

Bristol - 29

Dayton - 28

Dover - 28