Fun at Boshamer, Not to Mention a Baseball Game

By Chris Fromme

Expensive tickets, nine figure player salaries and constant threats of a strike disturb Major League baseball fans. However, a purer brand of the game exists at the college level. College players may not have the talent of the pros, but fans enjoy college ball for what it is - fun.

It's easy to imagine three friends meeting on a spring day on Ridge Road on the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill campus, ready to leave their worries outside of Boshamer Stadium. In the heart of the campus, fans enter the "Bosh" through a tall, blue, metal swinging door. Some 50 feet in the air above the portal from the outside world, dingy gold letters placed on the bricks read, "CARY C. BOSHAMER STADIUM."

Boshamer funded the stadium that opened for the 1972 season. The man who graduated from the UNC-CH in 1917 witnessed blissful Chapel Hill afternoons in his time. His gift provides a place for friends to relax together under the sun, not just a good baseball facility for the Tar Heel nine. His field of dreams was completed one year before his death.

Moving around the swept but dirty concourse, most fans don't notice the simple but beautiful architecture at the entrance. Below the gold letters is a cement outgrowth from the bricks. The divide is chipped and blackened from 30 years of the elements.

Below that, bricks continue. Four yellowish cement baseballs rest symmetrically on the stones above three tall, ovular gates. The gates are open on game day, hiding the well-crafted white letters, spelling UNC, atop the three blue iron doors.

Humorously scarring the grand entrance is a small white sign between the left and middle gate. The first bullet on the stadium policy guide is misprinted, reading "No Ouside Food and Beverages."

Happy patrons do not fret over the unprofessional misprint. They come to Boshamer to enjoy each other's company and get away from classes that punish such typos.

After scanning for friends, visitors bounce down the wide steps that are the wrong size, just in between strides. Groups of students disperse throughout the blue bleachers, which range between both dugouts. The shade of blue is a bit too dark to be considered appropriate for Chapel Hill, but the Tar Heel faithful pretend not to notice that either.

A viewer from above would see kids in shorts and sandals sprawling on the bleachers. However, that viewer wouldn't know that even on a warm, happy day the metal feels like a frosty mug placed on one's skin.

During lulls in the conversation, students notice the ping of metal bats, pop of snapping leather and incomprehensible chatter coming from the field. The sounds of baseball comfort fans.

Students do not have a monopoly on Boshamer's fruit. Small children scamper across the first row, putting their little fingers through holes in the black netting that protects spectators sitting between the dugouts. The taught screen runs all the way up to the press box. However, after watching the game for a few minutes, fans become immune to the obstruction.

In the last few rows, all the way around to the right side, Tar Heel parents congregate just in front of the concession stand. While waiting in line for peanuts, hot dogs and sodas, one can decipher political conversations about "my child's lack of playing time."

Also, other regulars attend. Male and female, black haired and white haired - Boshamer is their link. Maybe they love baseball. Maybe they love the $4 seats, or $2 for senior citizens. Maybe they love watching young folks have fun together.

About 1000 people usually show up and fill half the bleachers. When those viewers roar, all chatting ceases as fans try to catch sight of a soaring home run. After a Tar Heel long ball, old jerseys come flying out of the press box; only the truly lucky fan catches one. No one seems to care that the prizes are three sizes too big.

If a home run is launched over the blue padded wall towards left-center field it looks as if it can make it to Ehringhaus Residence Hall. The six-storied brick edifice is perched on a hill, and students can watch the game from their balconies.

From the stands at Boshamer, one can't quite make out who is watching from "E-House." But, if the sun is in just the right spot, the anonymous fans' beer cans shimmer. No alcohol is allowed in the Tar Heels' baseball home, according to the white sign out front. So, it's comforting to see the rebels in Ehringhaus - beer and baseball make a good pair.

Many students, especially freshmen, at the game make the short trek through the wooded path from South Campus. Others have come farther, and seeing Ehringhaus reminds many of them of their days as first-year students.

At a recent game versus Wake Forest, junior Karl Straub reminisced, "I loved Fridays as a freshman. We'd be done with class and walk over from Hinton James to the game. It was simple. It was fun."

Karl still comes to some games and enjoys them. But, his friends now live all over town, and they have busier schedules than as innocent freshmen.

PING! The sound of a well-hit ball always draws the attention of the fans. However, if the ball is hit towards centerfield it will rarely be a home run. A huge blue screen that is five sections tall and four wide protects pitchers from any embarrassment on balls hit straightaway.

Above the blue shade, fans looking out from Boshamer see two wrinkled wood light posts, healthy green trees and a crane. The metal monster looms above it all. In the coming years, many more students will get the South Campus experience.

When friends stop chatting to focus on the game, they see a contrast between perfection and flaw. The dirt is soft and tan and raked smooth. The grass is manicured and gives like a mattress.

But, when eyes wander beyond the outfielders, they notice a chink in the blue padded armor that marks the end of the field. Some of the hard cushions that make up the outfield wall do not fit together perfectly, so one can see a sliver of the outside world through the gaps.

Just above that wall, but below Ehringhaus in left-center field, stands the old scoreboard. It looks like a big piece of blue and white cardboard, but it has to be more than that since it illuminates. However, a couple of bulbs have gone dead, so ones and sevens look the same in the batting average column.

Some groups of friends opt to sit along the grass embankment along the right field line. The six levels are each marked by a worn, wooden beam. Five picnic tables rest on the second level, and students eat food at those tables that definitely is not on the concession stand menu. So much for the authority of the careless white sign.

Some fans, especially the tykes who put their hands on the screen in the first row, walk to the fence at the bottom of the grass. The barrier, which is in front of the Tar Heel bullpen, is too tall for them. They peek through it at the larger than life relief pitchers who make the ball sizzle and the mitt explode as they prepare to enter the game.

Big kids, the students, who are less intent on the game also come to this grassy knoll. When warm enough, many spread out a towel and bake in the sun. Their blissful relaxation is occasionally interrupted by a foul ball; the helpless scampering that ensues causes laughter from the bleachers, as long as no one gets hurt.

It's rare that anyone gets hurt at Boshamer. The stadium is too peaceful for anything much worse than sunburn.

When the game ends, the teams shake hands. Fans do not see such a noble gesture at the professional ranks. Also, when friends leave a UNC baseball game they see a gorgeous site unlike in the Major Leagues.

When looking up, on the way out of a Major League game, fans see luxury boxes - a reflection of all that is wrong in the game. On the way out of Boshamer, fans see pure white columns behind the last row of bleachers.

Once friends have parted ways, the stadium sleeps. The black tarp hides the infield, the scoreboard goes blank and one hears no more sounds of baseball.

But, Boshamer Stadium will awaken. In 2001, the Tar Heels have 33 home games. That is 33 chances for friends to unite in a simple, happy way.

contact me at cfromme@email.unc.edu