SIDE SALAD - Everything crunchy is good.

SPRING TRAINING TOUR 2004:
END OF THE INNOCENCE

It is with a heavy heart that, on the first legitimate day of the Tampa Bay Devil Rays' regular season, I report on the last Spring Training game of the year.

It's with a heavier heart that I report it had to be a New York Yankees game. Therefore, I felt the need to relieve The Rev. Joe Kendall of his reporting duties. He's gone beyond the call of duty and done an heroic job reporting as Side Salad's exclusive man about the batting cage, but no one should feel the need to keep going back to the House that Hillsborough County Built.

That's not to say I didn't have a great time. A friend offered me tickets and I jumped at the chance Sunday to see the Jeter, Rodriguez, Torre & Co. take a poke at the Future Yankee Stars. (Otherwise known as Future Trade Bait).

So I took my mom - who had never been to a Spring Training game. This despite the fact that she is a rabid Devil Rays fan (Yes, she's the one).

I forbid her to get into a fistfight with Yankees fans, but I did allow her to wear her DRays cap in. After all, you've gotta rebel just a little.

It didn't help, though, that this was the first thing we saw:



That's right, No. 17, former Rays catcher John Flaherty hobknobbing with pitcher Mike Mussina. Mom didn't notice him, but I did. I conveniently forgot to point him out, lest the ushers have to peel her off the guy before the first pitch was thrown.

As spring/minor league ballparks go, there really isn't another in Florida that matches Legends Field for sheer landscaping beauty. It's not the most intimate setting - there's only so much you can warm up to concrete and Yankees blue - but they've done a nice job of grooming the grounds to a finely manicured T.



One thing no one else has: a champions garden with the retired numbers of their most famous players. Babe Ruth. Lou Gehrig. Mickey Mantle. Joe DiMaggio. You do the math.



On the southeast edge of the garden a two-person band was playing songs for people arriving at the park. When we passed, they were playing, "I'm A Believer."

I'd be a believer, too, if my team had a $200 million payroll.



You never forget the first athlete who dies on you. For older generations, it was Gehrig. For others, it was Clemente. My son? Earnhardt. Mine was Thurmon Munson. I can still remember opening the newspaper and reading about his airplane crash. I wasn't even a Yankees fan, but I loved Munson and I thought he was indestructable.



Judging by the pallor and the occasional lobster-red sunburns, I'd guess these ladies were from LonGuyland.



Yeah, yeah, yeah. This is like the frat boy who's constantly dropping trou at keg parties. Zip it up and move on.



This is Carol. She was a sweet ticket taker. And she's dressed in traditional New York HAZMAT green.



Shits, hats, bats, balls, beads, bears. The souvenir stand had it all.



Now I see how they'll afford his new contract.



The subtle message here: Drink slowly, but choke your arteries with fake cheese all you like.



I'd like to buy a $4 Bambino Burger, but I just bought a $25 ARod shirt. Too bad, so sad.



Ah, yes. My mother's DRays hat. (For the record, I've been forbidden from showing her in photos on the blog.) My favorite part of the day came when I returned from a visit to the concession stand, only to have her tell me that the Yankee fan behind her muttered, "I think it's in bad taste to wear another team's colors to the ballpark."

That certainly would explain why 20,000 Yankees fans show up at Tropicana Field multiple times each season in pinstripes. If anyone knows about bad taste, it's a Yankees fan.

For the record, I think it was in poor taste for this guy to not take off his hat during the National Anthem. Or the dozen or so other people in the photo who couldn't have been bothered.



You've got to love a grounds crew that multitasks. Not only did this group rake the field between innings while dancing to the YMCA, they used the infield hose to recreate the firefighting scene in "Backdraft" in honor of the NYFD.



Hey, kids, let's play Find The Richest Ballplayer!



That's right, Alex Rodriguez. Did you find him?



The collective thought bubble here: "Better win the series... better win the series... better win the series...''



It's a good thing these guys don't get along. Otherwise, they might have to throw warmup with each other, and that would just be ugly.



It's good to see Donnie "Baseball" Mattingly signing autographs for fans before the game.



Hello, and welcome to Fantasy Stretching Coach Camp, where you get to push the limits of your favorite players' hammies and quads. Here we see Karl Robinskie of Poughkeepsie, N.Y. doing his best to limber up superstar outfielder Bernie Williams.



The souvenir tribes are divided of late between the insurgent ARod faction and...


...the militant Jeter freedom fighters.



A dozen schoolgirls watching Jeter and ARod throw warmup? You can almost hear the giggling if you put your ear to the monitor.



The boys? They were trying to be cool about it all.



It's a good thing these guys don't get along. Otherwise, they might have to stand next to each other during the National Anthem, and that would just be ugly.



First baseman Jason Giambi, looking rather svelte compared to last season's bulk. (Insert your own snide steroid joke here.)



Hideki Matsui, Bernie Williams and Gary Sheffield. Has there ever been a more talented outfield?

It's a good thing the Yankees had a full house so they could pay the bills. Oh, wait. Nevermind.

Here's today's lineup:







A side note: I love Joe Torre. If there's a more decent manager in baseball, I haven't found him.

Your attention please: Now batting:



Batting first: Derek Jeter.



Batting second: Bernie Williams.



Batting third: Alex Rodriguez.

It truly boggles the mind.