A few years ago, my wife and I were exploring potential retirement locations. Admittedly, River Falls had the upper hand in this competition, because our grandchildren were here. Another factor that eventually tipped our decision toward River Falls, though, was the presence of a wonderful little baseball field in Hoffman Park. Officially called First National Bank of River Falls Field, the park has a small, but major-league quality, covered grandstand behind home-plate holding 305 seats, with room for many more down the foul lines. Admission and parking were free, food was reasonably priced, and the beers from the “Leinie Lodge” were only three bucks. We love baseball, and this park seemed like Nirvana to us.
The ballpark is in a beautiful setting, surrounded by the sort of rolling green hills and ridges that mark this part of the state, but the story about how it came to be is even better. A local teacher, Josh Eidem, and some friends who played on the local amateur team, the Fighting Fish, decided that the team needed a home park they could call their own. They went to the city council and made a remarkable proposal: if the city would provide the land, they would raise the money and build the ballpark. It was all more complicated than this, but the city made some land in Hoffman Park available, and Eidem and his friends raised the money. They broke ground in 2013, on an unseasonably cold day. As Eidem tells it, there was no dirt flying that day; “it was so cold and snowy that we didn’t even stick a shovel in the ground. We just took a picture and got back in the cars.” The point of all this is that it was a community effort from the start. They solicited donations and sponsorships, held fund raisers at local businesses, and did most of the labor themselves, with the help of numerous willing townspeople. The outfield fence was covered with advertising signs for local businesses that had helped finance the endeavor. Everything was conducted on a voluntary basis. They erected the light stanchions earlier than scheduled, because that enabled them to work well into the night. The stadium seats came from Camden Yards ballpark in Baltimore, but there is more leg room than you’ll find in any MLB ballpark. Last year, courtesy of a grant from Major League Baseball, a state-of-the-art, artificial-turf field was installed, making this a first-class stadium all around. In addition to the Fighting Fish, the River Falls HS team, the American Legion team, and an over-35 amateur team, the Groupers, also call FNBRF Field home.
The Fighting Fish themselves came into existence in a similar, ad hoc manner. In 2007, some players from River Falls banded together and formed a team. They discussed several potential team names before outfielder Clint Kempt shrugged and suggested they go with the “Fighting Fish,” because, “We probably won’t come up with anything better.” They slowly built their following with such promotions as hamster races, “Ugly Pants” golf tournaments, and monthly meat raffles at Johnnie’s Bar, before erecting their current home stadium in 2014. Aspiring players can sign up on the team website (Fishbaseball.org), and, should there be enough demand, tryouts will be held. Requirements are essentially that you must have graduated from high school and love to play baseball. The residency rule is surprisingly specific: you must live within thirty miles of home plate. Most players hail from River Falls or nearby towns in Wisconsin and Minnesota, and many have college experience playing at the Division II or III levels. This is true amateur baseball, as none of the players receive remuneration for their efforts; there are no formal practices, and most of the team members have full-time jobs. Some remarkable talent is occasionally discovered among the Fish, however. Arizona once sent scouts to look at a player named Marty Herum. He went 4 for 5 with two triples that day and was immediately signed by the Diamondbacks. More impressively, current Milwaukee Brewer’s star set-up man, J.P. Feyereisen, played with the Fish for parts of three summers before being signed by Cleveland. The Fish compete in the St. Croix Valley Baseball League as part of the Wisconsin Baseball Association, consisting of about sixty similar teams from around the state. Last year, River Falls carried home the championship trophy for the second time in their brief existence. General Manager Grant Miller hoped to keep the championship team together, so he pulled out the checkbook and re-signed each player for the highest possible salary. (In this, an amateur league, the highest possible was zero)
Last year, Covid fears prevented us from attending games, so, last Saturday, we were finally able to see the Fighting Fish in action against the Bay City Bombers. Kathleen and I do not yet own any Fighting Fish gear, but we felt right at home wearing the Orange and Blue of our beloved Florida Gators. That was because the colors and the “F” logo of the Fish are remarkably similar to those of the Gators. In addition to the usual volunteer staff in the Leinie Lodge (Leinenkugel is a local beer brewed in Chippewa Falls), the Kilkarney Hills Golf Club sent Chef Jen to sell gourmet sandwiches from a tent. While I sat directly behind home plate before the game, eating an amazing Italian prime rib sandwich and sipping a $3 Leinie’s beer, I scanned the thirty or so local businesses and sponsors represented on the outfield fence, counting twelve that I had personally patronized. Thus, every game continues to be a community effort. The fact that this is a shoestring operation was driven home when they passed the hat to pay the umpires and cover other expenses. Also, every time a ball left the playing field, the public address announcer would gently remind the spectators to return the ball so that the game could continue. By my estimate, there were four-to-five hundred people in attendance, all in a festive mood and enjoying the game.
The game itself demonstrated a surprising level of skill. Starting Fish pitcher, Matt Doornink, bears a striking resemblance to Babe Ruth in the twilight of his career, but he can still bring it. Doornink tossed five shutout innings and struck out six. Third-baseman Andy Metcalf is the only team member currently attending the University of Wisconsin at River Falls, because that school ended its baseball program in 2002. More’s the pity, because the kid can rake. For the second consecutive game, Metcalf hit a homer and drove in four runs. The highlight for me, an aging baseball wannabe, came when leftfielder Josh Eidem drove in a run. Yes, that’s the same Josh Eidem who has played every season with the Fish and contributed so much to the construction of the ballpark. It was inspiring to watch a forty-year-old who can still catch up to a rising fastball.
The entire evening left me with a warm feeling toward the small town that I have adopted as my home. At a time when the state, the nation, and the world are torn by differences and division, I now have a place to go where everyone smiles, cheers, and pulls in the same direction. Also, when spoiled Major Leaguers pull down $20 million and more each year, it’s comforting to watch these guys play baseball for the sheer love of the game. Even the “Fish Magazine,” available for free at every game, is a humorous, tongue-in-cheek parody of an MLB program. This team plays to win, but they don’t take themselves too seriously. Above all, having fun seems to be the main objective.
By the sixth inning, the Fighting Fish had a comfortable 5-0 lead, and it had become too cold for our ill-advised outfits, so my wife and I headed for home. During the winter, we can actually see the field from our condo, high on a ridge overlooking the park. That night, however, the spring leaves had begun to obscure our view. As I looked out of my open window, I could still make out the stadium lights through the trees, and I could hear the strains of “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” wafting into my home. I squinted through the foliage in an attempt to follow the action, and I swear I could see Shoeless Joe Jackson and Moonlight Graham working their way through some cornstalks in the outfield, hoping to join the game.