Ron Kantowski describes the frat-party frenzy that has turned thirsty Thursdays into a big hit at Cashman Field

By Ron Kantowski

Saturday, May 26, 2007 | 7:12 a.m.

There's a fine line between being a responsible drinker and crossing the line of acceptable behavior while consuming alcohol, and 51s President Don Logan is not naive enough to believe that it never gets crossed on Dollar Beer Night at Cashman Field.

But that will always be the goal.

To prevent fans from partaking in too much of a baseball tradition, Logan said Cashman Field beer vendors are trained to recognize when a fan has had too much to drink and are instructed not to serve those who do.

The 51s also will provide a ride home from the ballpark for fans who overindulge and encourage the use of designated drivers on Beer Night and every other night at Cashman Field.

To help lower the blood-alcohol content of fans who drink , beer sales are cut off after the seventh inning.

Logan said having a beer at the ballpark has been part of the baseball experience almost as long as peanuts and Cracker Jack and root, root, rooting for the home team have . He doesn't expect that will change.

"It's part of the culture," Logan said. "That's why it has to be up to each individual to be responsible for himself."

- By Ron Kantowski

1. Beer Night, SS

2. Cox Communications School Day, LF

3. Fireworks Night, CF

4. Bobblehead Night, 1B

5. Schedule Calendar or Poster Night, 3B

6. Bat Night or Ball Night, RF

7. Thunderstix Night, C

8. Chocolate Easter Egg Hunt in Left Field Day, 2B

9. Hat or T-shirt Night, P

There are people who work in the cramped cubicles that pass for offices at the Las Vegas minor league sports level who actually believe the local team's bottom line is tied to winning and losing.

And here you thought John Rocker was full of nonsense.

Maybe they will never say it in quite this way, because the surgeon general might get after them for admitting it. But Las Vegas 51s' management has discovered the quickest way to make the turnstiles sing on a nonfireworks spectacular night is putting a $1 price tag on a 12-ounce cup of Bud or Bud Light.

This is the second season the 51s have turned every Thursday night at Cashman Field into a fraternity party, minus the togas and the Kingsmen's greatest hit.

But you don't need to know the lyrics to "Louie, Louie" - who can understand them, anyway? - to comprehend what a rousing success Dollar Beer Night has become.

There are Thursdays at Cashman - particularly when the weather is hot and UNLV students feel the need to blow off steam after exams - when long lines of thirsty baseball fans start forming at the ticket office an hour before the first pitch.

"The walk-up (crowd) is so big that sometimes we can't get everybody in until the third inning," 51s spokesman Jim Gemma said.

When that happens, the team will extend the sale of cheap suds for an extra inning, so everybody has a chance to wet his whistle once or twice.

"Last year the two biggest ovations that Dan Bickmore, our public address announcer, got was when he announced that," Gemma said.

Sometimes, the party literally spills over to the parking lot. Or begins there. On a recent Thursday, the main lot flanking Las Vegas Boulevard looked like Lambeau Field on any given Sunday, with the exception that the beers far outnumbered the brats.

"I got all the Thursday games marked in my pager," said Pat Lazarus, a UNLV student from New Jersey as members of Sigma Alpha Mu and Alpha Delta Pi got together for another round of runs, hits and belches.

You could tell they were card-carrying college kids because they were drinking Natural Light, which is to the Anheuser - Busch lineup what a utility infielder is to Barry Bonds.

"Natty Light - $4.99 for 12," one of the frat guys crowed, apparently quite proud of the buzz for buck he was getting.

"Three ninety-nine if you bring your Smith's card," chimed one of the sorority girls.

They didn't bother bringing a cooler. They just ripped the top off a case of cans and poured a bag of ice over its aluminum contents.

In an adjacent row to Animal House, several female fans, a bit too old to be college students (but just a bit), twisted off the tops of what they said were their second beers.

I sort of believed them until I started walking away and one called out that she was thinking about streaking during the game.

Although she seemed to be a pretty knowledgeable baseball fan, I don't think she was referring to Joe DiMaggio hitting in 56 consecutive games.

"What inning?" I called back.

"The inning after they stop selling beer," she said.

Once the 51s and Tacoma Rainiers commenced missing the cutoff man and failing to advance the runner, there was a definite um, buzz, inside the stadium. This was especially true down the left- and right-field lines, where the cheap beer was flowing like a double-brewed mountain stream in God's country, or whatever they say on those commercials.

A couple of rows behind me in the fully carbonated stands, I noticed a mixed group who were sporting more tattoos and piercings than the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Like everybody else in the left-field lounge - er, bleachers - they were guzzling suds like the late Harry Caray.

One, with multicolored artwork running up each arm, 1973 Elvis muttonchops and a couple of Mr. Clean earrings dangling from his lobes, admitted that were it not for the cheap beer, you might have trouble taking him out to the ballgame.

That did not surprise me. What did is that he said he had just returned from San Diego , where he watched the Padres-Dodgers series.

As I returned to my seat, another member of this motley crew of fans, a tough-looking bald guy, noticed my press badge and told me to tell the players to start wearing their pants as they were intended, cuffed below the knee.

"I wanna see some stirrups," he growled.

Sometimes, you can't judge a baseball fan by his cover - or by the number of empty beer cups he uses to build a pyramid in the fifth inning.

Like many of the fans in the ballpark on this particular Thursday, I had planned on leaving after the seventh inning, when the beer vendors were lifted for pinch-hitters.

But then I remembered what the young woman in the parking lot had said so I waited until the eighth, just in case.