MIAMI - Here we are, on a day off before the third game of the World Series, and the old ballfield stands quiet. Which, come to think of it, makes it a lot like the previous 2,185 days at Pro Player Stadium.
Yup, it's that time again. The World Series has returned and, God bless 'em, South Florida's baseball fans are giddy. They have their mitts, their caps and, hopefully, directions to the stadium. After all, it has been a while.
On Oct. 26, 1997, the Marlins beat the Indians in Game 7 of the World Series in front of 67,204 at Pro Player Stadium. Apparently, 62,314 of those fans have been waiting until today before returning.
"Sure, there's been a little bandwagon-jumping. But I think that's only normal," Marlins third baseman Mike Lowell said. "If we don't fill it up for the World Series, you can probably put a grenade under Pro Player Stadium."
So this is your Fall Classic.
The one without the Cubs and without the Red Sox. Without the ivy and without the Green Monster. Without the curses of goats or Bambinos.
Instead, what we have is the team a town forgot, playing in a stadium baseball deplores, and starring in the World Series nobody wanted to see.
On the other hand, it is warmer here.
Try as they might, the fans of South Florida will not be able to replicate the passions of Chicago and Boston. Their devotion is too shallow, their hearts are too fickle. They are, you might say, a stadium of Forrest Gumps. No matter how little they try, history always seems to find them.
The Marlins have been around 11 seasons and have two World Series to show for it. That's one more than the Red Sox in the past 25 years. That's two more than the Cubs in the past 50 years.
Yet fans of those teams never stop believing. They show up season after season with the hope that, this time, it's going to be different.
Florida has never grasped that fanatical style of faithfulness. It barely understood in good times and never bothered trying in bad times. In 1997, the year of the World Series, the Marlins drew almost 30,000 a game. By last season, they were hardly topping 10,000.
Expectations became so low, the team once ran out of hot dogs on opening day because officials were shocked at the number of people who showed up.
Former owner John Henry, who now owns the Red Sox, once gathered all the fans remaining in the stadium during a rain-soaked doubleheader and put them in the first few rows. And still had plenty of good seats to spare.
After a long rain delay against Pittsburgh a few years back, the game resumed with about 600 people in the stands.
"We actually heard the radio guys doing their broadcast while we were hitting," Lowell said. "It felt like A ball, where you have to hope the radio guy shuts up in between pitches so he doesn't distract you."
(Public service disclaimer: Yes, yes, the Devil Rays also are a horrible draw. But at least the Marlins have given their fans two pennants and two ownership changes. We can only dream of such gaiety.)
Admittedly, Florida fans are not entirely at fault. Unlike the Red Sox or Cubs, they have little history to draw from. And much of it is unpleasant.
Shortly after the '97 Series, then-owner Wayne Huizenga shipped out most of his stars in a payroll-slashing plan. The fallout led to a downward spiral of support that did not subside until this summer.
"They had some tough experiences here after the last time they got to the World Series. I think a lot of them lost interest in the way things were handled," Marlins manager Jack McKeon said. "Basically, now, they're seeing an exciting club. They're jumping back on the bandwagon. They're good fans, but like everybody else in the country, they want to see a winner."
What has gone unspoken by Marlins brass is the parallels between 1997 and 2003. New owner Jeffrey Loria, like Huizenga, is counting on a new baseball-only stadium to be built. And Loria, again like Huizenga, will be facing difficult payroll decisions the day after the Series ends.
Florida has 15 arbitration-eligible players and 10 free agents. There is no way the Marlins can keep those players without a significant increase in their $53-million payroll. Loria has declined to comment about the future of the payroll or the roster, which cannot be construed as a good sign.
Instead, the Marlins will focus on today.
On a team that has achieved beyond all expectations. On a fan base that is expected to produce three consecutive sellouts of 67,000 or more.
Maybe there is magic still to be found. The young Marlins, with Josh Beckett on the mound, could give the Yankees a scare. The returning fans, with excitement in the air, could give the Series a boost.
Or, maybe, we're doomed to finish the postseason wondering what October could have been.
