If you fold it, they will come

That's the aspect of minor league ball that can make it a tough sell. Even when the franchise isn't getting ready to blow town, the players are. Sports fans long for the elusive magic that descends on a team when it jells into a championship contender. But minor league teams exist mainly to be cannibalized by their major league affiliates, and players who do win pennants are usually praying their reward will be a ticket out. Kind of spoils the mood.

Still, minor league baseball has plenty of compensatory advantages. Small parks, reasonable ticket prices, no prima donnas -- pro sports as it ought to be, on a human scale. Even the Nat Bailey scoreboard is manually operated. In section 3, a kid attending his first ballgame peppers his uncle with questions. "Why isn't that one good?" he demands as a ball sails out of sight toward the parking lot.

"Because it was a foul ball," Uncle explains. "See, it was outside of the white line. Those ones don't count." Two innings later, the kid is a veritable umpire. "That's a foul ball!" he shouts. "Three balls and two strikes on the scoreboard!"

Behavioral scientists believe children's brains are hard-wired to pick up language skills. Watch a kid at his first game and you quickly develop the impression there's also some baseball circuitry in there. (Back in the stands, another tyke sees a vendor walk past and yells, "Gimme a beer!" They've probably got circuitry for that, too.)

"Hey, this has been a slow game," says one spectator. "Well," his friend replies, "they're beating the crap out of us. It takes a while."

It's true. In this meaningless season-ender, the Memphis Redbirds are checking Canadian fans into the Heartbreak Hotel with an old-fashioned whuppin'. Never mind -- the playoffs lie ahead and in the meantime there are other spectacles to enjoy.

Between innings, another minor league staple: goofy competitions for the fans. In the ever-popular spin race, two kids, usually a boy and a girl, spin around until they're thoroughly dizzy, then run for the finish line. Tonight's boy contestant makes a crucial error -- his competitive instincts take over immediately, in the spinning phase. He spins with vigor and enthusiasm. His more prudent female rival spins much more modestly. The signal is given, she makes a beeline down the track, he lurches two drunken steps and careens into the turf.

Kids learn many important life lessons at the ballpark.

Hilditch has been around long enough to recall the glory days. "Back in the late '50s on opening day they had the outfield roped off and people were standing 20 deep. Plus there were bleachers along the baselines, and they were full too."

Tonight the glory days are back, if only to bid a final farewell. After the game the Canadians stage a truly corny spectacle -- in a "Field of Dreams" sendoff they construct a little cornfield behind second base, play a recording of James Earl Jones reciting hometown boy W.P. Kinsella's stirring words about the meaning of baseball, and have the team emerge from the corn in a fog of dry ice. "If you build it, they will come," whispers a voice on the PA. Close. Tonight, it's "If you fold it, they will come."

Nat Bailey will not stay dark this year. A Single-A franchise (stolen from another, even less fortunate Oregon ballpark) will play a shorter season, stocked with players whose shot at the bigs is that much longer.

Meanwhile, California's River City has a new team -- and not just any squad, but the Triple-A champions. Once again, as they have in the past, Sacramento fans will have the lovely, languid opportunity to while away hot summer evenings at the park. And the players will continue to keep one eye on the ball and the other on a brighter future, to be played out somewhere else.

• View blog reactions