The line into Tropicana Field extends down the walkway for the Rays' 5 a.m. game, surprising team officials who expected 500 fans at most.
ST. PETERSBURG - It was a miscalculation by the Devil Rays. A preposterously wonderful miscalculation.
Somewhere past midnight, but a long while before dawn, the Rays discovered a quality long assumed missing. They discovered a passion for their team.
Who would have thought to look here or to look now? In the early morning hours with the team on the other side of the world?
Heaven knows, the Rays have conditioned themselves to expect the minimum when it comes to fan support. This is a strategy that, generally speaking, rarely leaves them surprised.
So it was with modest expectations that they opened a single door to Tropicana Field at 4:30 a.m. Wednesday to invite fans in for a light breakfast and a TV broadcast of the Rays-Yankees game from Tokyo.
What would you have guessed? A gathering of 100 hearty souls? A crowd on the cozy side of 200? The Rays anticipated 300 but, even so, were prepared to handle the unlikely appearance of 500.
It wasn't even close. By the time team officials finished counting, nearly 2,000 people had shown up to pay $10 for a donut, a game ticket and a seat in front of a TV not so different from the sets they have at home.
"If you're talking proportionate to the crowds at games," Tony Delgado of Tampa said, "I would have expected about six people."
By 3:30 a.m., there were dozens of fans in line. By 4:30, the line stretched deep into the parking lot. By 5:15, with the game already on the air, Rays employees were scrambling to get everyone in the building.
They tried to hook up the public address system outside but couldn't get it to work. So a Rays employee drove his car up to the crowd, opened the windows and doors and cranked up the radio so those still outside could hear the play-by-play.
The Rays were woefully unprepared, and it was a delight to see. Not that you wanted to hear a fan grumbling about the T-shirts running out, or a guy whining about his empty coffee cup. It was the shock of being overwhelmed by fans in a market that has treated the team with such indifference.
"For me, the best part was standing in line," said Ed Barry of Gulfport, who came with his wife Joan. "I liked meeting the different people, standing around and talking about things. It was fun to see it like this."
This is what the Rays have rarely experienced. A buzz in the air, as more people than they can handle try to squeeze through their doors.
This is what fans have needed to appreciate. The utter madness and hassles that are associated with a bona fide major-league team. In a market that has little history of its own, this was a moment to savor.
What was it that brought people there? Maybe it was the anticipation of a season for a team clearly on the upswing. Maybe it was the novelty of gathering before sunrise. Maybe it was the offer of a future game ticket, a shirt and other prizes to be raffled. Maybe it was all those things and more.
Whatever the cause, the crowd was diverse. Children who would leave in the fifth inning to get to school. Business types stopping off before work. Retirees who didn't have tee times until after 8 a.m.
"I didn't want to get out of bed, but he was in there at 3:30 saying, "Mom, please get up. Let's go,"' said St. Petersburg's Dee Dee Shickel, who came with her 12-year-old son Zachary. "This turned out to be worth it."
For Rays employees, there were moments of exhilaration. And moments of fear. Sometimes, it was hard to tell which was which.
It was quickly clear that rations were not going to hold out. The concessionaire at Tropicana Field was making enough pastries to feed 500. Maybe a couple hundred more if he skimped on the sugar.
As the fans continued to pour in, Rays vice president Wayne Hodes handed his credit card to an employee. Minutes later, there were 60 dozen donuts being delivered.
The plan was to keep everyone in the Brew Pub just inside the rotunda. Some tables in Centerfield Street could be used for overflow.
"We had talked about a Plan B, so we were ready to open the Batter's Eye (restaurant) when it started getting crowded," Hodes said. "When that filled up, we had to come up with a Plan C."
That involved opening the leftfield bleachers and turning on the RaysVision scoreboard screen. This meant the two security guards on duty were now stretched across several stadium levels and were outnumbered 1,000 to 1.
Still, it worked. The morning's first ovation was reserved for Jose Tavarez, the team's guest relations expert, who announced the first-place Rays were about to take the field. Fans would cheer when Carl Crawford slid home with the first run and groan when Hideki Matsui hit a long homer to right.
So there were not enough donuts to go around. And the line did not move quickly enough. So the team played poorly and was routed by the Yankees.
This was not about results. This was a day for memories.
The Rays gave their fans a morning unlike any other.
And the fans gave the Rays a glimpse of possibilities.
