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Naimoli does it all on Opening DayBy THOMAS C. TOBIN © St. Petersburg Times, published April 1, 1998 Vince Naimoli seemed to do it unflappably, and in the same charcoal suit he wore on the day the franchise was awarded in 1995. An engineer by trade who made his millions as a corporate turnaround artist, Naimoli plucked a dime from his pocket Tuesday morning and used it as a makeshift screwdriver when a construction supervisor was trying to pry off a wall panel. Thirty minutes later he was telling a national radio talk show audience how he scrambled to scare up a quick $10-million when one team investor dropped out in 1995. At 3 p.m. in front of the stadium's rotunda, Naimoli was applauded by thousands of early-arriving fans as he stood on a red carpet, said a few words and drank a ceremonial glass of orange juice. But who in the crowd knew that he had lumbered to that ceremony picking up scraps of wood and wires, peeling masking tape from the concourse floor, pushing trash bins into place, hoisting a dusty pallet into a storage room and shoving a 20-foot metal pipe out of the way with his black, wing-tip shoes? Shortly before the first pitch, Naimoli cut a giant ribbon and delivered another speech in front of 45,000 fans and a large television audience. But he seemed more concerned throughout the day that the stadium's new brew pub would open on time (it did), that burned out light bulbs were replaced, that dumpsters were removed from the parking lot, that trash was cleared from the entrances, that carpets were clean and that the 290 concession stands (or "points of purchase," as he calls them) were ready for the Opening Day throng. When new palm trees arrived to adorn The Beach area of the stadium overlooking leftfield, Naimoli ran his fingers over the leaves. "These are real palm trees, right?" Yes, said the installer. "But are they happy palm trees?" Yes, again. Naimoli had reason to be concerned "Our fans are our customers," Naimoli told the rotunda crowd. "Without our customers, we don't have a business. I can assure you, we want to love you as much as you want to love us." The breadth of Naimoli's interests were evident too in the variety of information he marshalled as the day wore on. On the brightness of the stadium: "We've exceeded the standard for footcandles on the field anywhere from 50 to 100 percent." On one of his star outfielders: "Quinton McCracken played 132 games for the Rockies last year." On the availability of sod for landscaping outside Tropicana Field: "Because of El Nino, we're restricted on how much we can get. We're on allocation." On the strength of the Devil Rays' division, the American League East: "We play in a very tough division and that's something we'll have to face up to." On how a baseball would carry in the untested ballpark: Naimoli said a physicist had determined that it all depends on how many fans are in the stands. The more there are, the more heat there is, which deadens the ball's flight. Naimoli said each fan puts out about the same heat as a 100-watt light bulb. His day began at 2:30 a.m. when he awoke briefly before going back to sleep and rising for good at 5 a.m. He arrived at Tropicana Field at 6:30 a.m., and conducted five radio interviews and one live television interview before 8 a.m. After that, he moved easily from his public duties as the Devil Rays' most recognizable public figure to the more private job of team critic. In between, dozens of fans and stadium workers thanked Naimoli and asked for his autograph and called him "sir" and "Mr. Vince." When reporters asked him the same question (How do you feel?) over and over, he responded each time with some variation of: "I'll breathe a sigh of relief when our pitcher's pitched the ball and our catcher catches it." The managing general partner, having participated in the pre-game ceremonies, had to scramble up two flights of stairs to make it to his box in time for the first pitch. The crowd stood and roared. The pitch came across the plate. The umpire called, "Ball!" And for the first time, Opening Day 1998 at Tropicana Field had grown beyond Naimoli's ability to manage. He did not, however, remain silent. "It looked like a strike to me," he joked.
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he most versatile person in the Devil Rays organization could well be the managing general partner, who dipped and darted Tuesday between the unglamorous bowels of Tropicana Field and the grandiose world of media appearances and Opening Day ceremonies.
