Sunset in Sarasota

One of the several enticements to my moving to Florida two-and-a-half years ago -- besides Kristin, the weather, beaches, golf courses and fresh seafood -- was the fact that my destination was just 11 miles from Sarasota's Ed Smith Stadium, the winter home of the Cincinnati Reds. I've since enjoyed three springs of watching the Reds work out and play exhibition games both in Sarasota and our adopted hometown of Bradenton.
Well that's over now, the Reds having pulled up stakes for Goodyear, Ariz., where they'll share a new facility next spring with the Cleveland Indians.
But thanks to a scheduling quirk at work -- made necessary by an 11th-hour stay of execution ably chronicled in earlier posts on this page -- I got to say goodbye to the boys at the team's final spring training game against the Pittsburgh Pirates on April 2. And thanks to a friend whose wife works at the team hotel, I sat in the first row behind the plate!
I got there early in hopes of snagging a T-shirt commemorating the final season in Sarasota, but the nice lady at the merchandise stand said the Reds don't sell such a thing and directed me to a sports bar in town. Eh. Maybe another time.
Before the game began, two things struck me. One was that the stadium was mostly empty. Only 2,935 people showed up, the fewest of the spring. Our newspaper speculated the low turnout was a result of snowbirds' condo leases running out on March 31. But the Reds don't really draw that well in Sarasota, except when the Yankees or Red Sox come to town. The other striking event came in a pregame ceremony featuring a clueless mayor and Reds owner Bob Castellini. Sarasota's mayor, Lou Ann Palmer, introduced a county commissioner and city commissioner for a farewell presentation and was absolutely stunned that Reds fans booed them lustily even though the team had done everything it could, save stay in a dilapidated stadium, to remain in town. Then she introduced herself. Even louder boos. Then she introduced a moment of silence for baseball in Sarasota. It was not silent. Eventually, she gave Castellini a key to the city, which he dropped, then dabbed the tears from her eyes as he spoke. Hilarious.
The game itself was rather uneventful, the kind of long, ugly exhibition you get at spring training. The Pirates won, 6-5, and I happened to get a shot of the final pitch at Sarasota, a called third strike on the Reds' Drew Anderson thrown by Pittsburgh's Lincoln Holdzkom.
It didn't really hit me that it was all over until I walked around the stadium and the workout complex taking pictures and remembering the good times, like seeing -- and hearing -- Josh Hamilton taking the first swings of his comeback attempt from drug oblivion in 2007; talking to Chad Moeller about his late grandfather, whom I knew from Ohio; watching players like Joey Votto, Jay Bruce, Johnny Cueto, Paul Janish and Ryan Hanigan move from the back fields to the major league lineup; witnessing my first favorite player, Joe Morgan, tutor my current favorite player, Brandon Phillips, on how to turn a double play at second base; and choking the day I almost spoke to Hall of Fame announcer Marty Brennaman when he turned and looked at me but I couldn't get a word out.
During my photo journey, I walked over to the parking lot where Reds players and personnel were leaving the facility. As Brennaman was driving away, somebody yelled, "We'll miss you, Marty." He replied, "We'll sure all miss you, too."

The last pitch.

Locking up.

The exit.

The familiar sign.