Ode to doubleheaders

By Ron Kantowski

Wednesday, Aug. 5, 2009 | 2 a.m.

When I was a kid — i.e., when pitchers more often than not finished what they started — doubleheaders were a common occurrence. My father, who worked in a steel mill, believed that two baseball games for the price of one were better than one baseball game for the price of one. That is why my brother and I saw a lot of twin bills at Wrigley Field and an occasional double dip at old Comiskey Park.

I remember my old man drinking beer out of wax-lined brown paper cups. He’d put a cup of fresh beer inside the cup of the one he had just finished. And so forth. By the sixth inning of the second game he’d have a stack of six or seven empty beer cups. This paled in comparison to the guys sitting in the sun out in the bleachers, who’d have stacks of empty beer cups as tall as the John Hancock Center (Sears Tower, or whatever they’re calling it now, wasn’t yet built when my old man starting taking my brother and me to doubleheaders).

Dave LaRoche recalls circling the scheduled doubleheaders at Dodger Stadium when he was a youngster, too. Not so much to watch his old man stack beer cups, but because you never knew when you might get to see Koufax and Drysdale pitch on the same day.

“When I was a kid growing up in L.A. and the schedule came out, the first thing I would do is see when the Dodgers were playing the Giants, because those were the only games televised back in those days, and when the doubleheaders were scheduled, to see if I could talk my parents into going into one of those,” the affable Las Vegas 51s pitching coach said.

LaRoche would go on to pitch in the big leagues for 14 years. He would play in more than a few doubleheaders, before the owners and the players got greedy, virtually rendering them obsolete (at least when the weather is nice). How can you offer two games for the price of one when you have to pay A-Rod more than the entire Seattle Mariners roster?

In the 1960s there was a doubleheader on just about every other Sunday and on every holiday. Memorial Day, Fourth of July and Labor Day always meant two baseball games for the price of one.

“Let’s play two,” Ernie Banks would say whenever the sun was shining or the wind was blowing out toward the ivy-covered walls.

Doubleheaders were once so popular with fans that the Oakland A’s scheduled one on opening day 1971. But it wasn’t long before they went the way of complete games and high stirrups.

By the 1990s there were only two regularly scheduled doubleheaders in the National League. The Mariners haven’t scheduled one since 1981.

If Ernie Banks were playing today, he’d have to say, “Let’s play one. A-Rod needs the cash.”

Doubleheaders are more prevalent in the minor leagues, where travel costs are a concern and the season is shorter, resulting in fewer off days. Plus, it’s the minor leagues, where they don’t mind giving something back to the fan every once in a while.

The 51s hosted the Salt Lake Bees in a doubleheader Monday night at Cashman Field. That’s why Dave LaRoche and I were reminiscing about our fathers taking us to twin bills, be they “twi-night” or the regular kind.

It was the 51s’ first regularly scheduled doubleheader since Aug. 10, 2004. Again, travel was part of the equation. Had the 51s played a single game against the Bees on Tuesday they would have had to run through airports and leap over baggage to make it to Omaha, Neb., in time for Wednesday’s game. By playing two games Monday, they had a day and half to get there.

They’ll have plenty of time to do some sightseeing in Omaha — or at least catch a juicy top sirloin before batting practice.

Monday’s doubleheader happened to fall on Value Night at Cashman Field, where practically everything at the concession stands — with the exception of beer — costs just $1.

Eric Rubeck, a business agent for a Las Vegas plumbers and pipe fitters union, said the last doubleheader he recalled watching in person was the Orioles vs. the Angels at Anaheim Stadium in 1974. “When I was a kid,” said Rubeck, who added that he “absolutely” intended on staying for both games.

Bob Sweet and Phylis David were taking a wait-and-see approach. That’s a lot of baseball for one night, especially for a couple of seniors who couldn’t recall ever seeing a doubleheader in person. Plus, it could get messy — and not just for the pitching staffs. As Bob and I chatted, he was having trouble keeping his chocolate ice cream cone from dripping onto his shirt on a 100-degree evening.

“We just came to watch a game. We didn’t know it was a doubleheader,” Phylis said.

It was a little past 6 p.m. and the sky beyond the left-field fence had yet to turn various shades of purple and orange and pink, as it would around 8 p.m. or the bottom of the third, whichever came first.

But a couple of beefy guys sitting down the right-field line already were working on a nice mini-tower of empty beer cups.