Nothing I say will save Salt Lake City’s mythical Derks Field — so call this a plaintive eulogy for the ballpark and this old kid’s remembrances of times past.
The big sign on the stadium at 1300 South State says Smith’s Ballpark but, to me, it will always be Derks Field.
The old stadium was replaced in 1994 and called Franklin Quest Field, then Spring Mobile Ballpark and finally Smith’s Ballpark. But I don’t care — the ghosts of the days of yore haven’t gone anywhere and it’s still Derks Field to them, as well as old goats like me.
Generations of old Utah kids have glorious memories from the storied place — excitement and magic that spawned big league dreams.
As a youngster, I ate, drank and breathed baseball. When I was 9 years old and the Salt Lake Bees were a farm club for a major league team, my dad took me to Derks Field on a rainy spring day and I saw Willie Mays hit a home run in an exhibition game. It just couldn’t get any better than that.
Get this: Hank Aaron and even Babe Ruth played on our diamond.
I was the kind of kid who wore a ball cap everywhere and took my Al Kaline autographed Wilson glove to Bees games in hopes of shagging a foul ball. Alas, it never happened. But that was OK, because the atmosphere was electric with the cracking of bats and the ump calling “Steeeeerrriiiiike.”
The organ played between innings, especially during the seventh-inning stretch when everyone sang “Take Me Out to the Ballgame.” It was all set off by those vendors hiking up and down the steps calling out, “Red Hots, get your Red Hots here.”
Our ballpark, which was known far and wide as the field with the best view — the Wasatch Mountains jumping up into the azure blue sky — opened in 1926. It didn’t become Derks Field until 1940, when it was named for John C. Derks, the sports editor of The Salt Lake Tribune.
Now we’re told that good old Derks Field is going the way of Dizzy Dean and Shoeless Joe Jackson to be replaced by who-knows-what. What a bummer. Derks Field is imbued with the kind of history that makes Salt Lake City a real place with real people. Would Boston tear down Fenway Park? Not on your life. That would spark another tea rebellion. But, around these parts, we’re not so fond of preserving historic sites — don’t get me started.
So why is Derks Field going away? Here’s an abbreviated version: The Bees are owned by the Larry H. Miller Company, the same outfit that owned the Utah Jazz for many years. Recently, the Miller Company sold the Jazz to Ryan Smith, who also is bringing a National Hockey League (NHL) franchise to Salt Lake City.
The Miller Company has its eye on getting a Major League Baseball (MLB) expansion franchise. But no MLB team can call home to a city with a minor league club. So they’re moving the Salt Lake Bees to Daybreak to become the South Jordan Bees.
That just doesn’t sound right.
The Miller Company has proposed a $3.5 billion ballpark and mixed use district near 1200 West North Temple.
Sound familiar? Salt Lake City recently green lighted Ryan Smith and his Smith Entertainment Group (SEG) for a similar $3 billion district — including $900 million from a proposed sales tax increase — on 100 acres downtown surrounding the Delta Center, where the Jazz and the new NHL franchise will play.
The project is expected to include a high-rise apartment building; hotel; and commercial, retail and office space, as well as the Salt Lake Convention Center and Abravanel Hall.
What Salt Lake City residents may not understand is such districts are the latest money-making paradigm for professional sports. Entities within them — restaurants, bars, shops and hotels — are owned in part by the franchise along with big investors. Cha-ching!
For example, the Atlanta Braves franchise is the majority owner of the mixed use development Battery Atlanta. It includes 350,000 square feet of retail and restaurant space, a nine-story office building, a 550-unit apartment complex and the 3,500-seat Coca-Cola Roxy Theater.
Big money talks and history walks — along with the quaintness of times past. Call it progress.
So long, Derks Field. We’ll see you in our fantasies along with Herman Franks and Duke Sims and Bees sluggers from yesteryear’s thrilling barn-burners that we can’t forget.
Steeeeerrriiiiike, you’re out.
(Christopher Smart) Christopher Smart is a freelance journalist.
Christopher Smart is a freelance journalist, one-time Salt Lake Tribune reporter and author of Smart Bomb, which appears in the electronic editions of City Weekly.
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