I’ve been asked to lay down a little history on the most famous - nay, infamous - award on the Vancouver sporting horizon, and with Dante Love earning the big prize for 2007, what better time than now to commit the legend to print?

The origins of the BHPoY date back to 1994, when we first
‘made ourselves known’ to the players. Remember, April can be pretty
horrid in this town, so we spent a lot of Triple-A nights watching
games, along with about 300 paying fans. In other words, a "Brent
Imlach 3000", in terms of the recorded "paid" attendance that showed up
in the papers. We at first sat with the pitchers charting pitches, and
we’d shoot shit in-between innings, because we all had to be there. 

One night, it even led to a game of "Count the Fans", an April
tradition maintained until the end of Vancouver’s Triple-A run, most
famously played in 1996 by Will Pennyfeather and Darin Erstad, who
would shout running counts to a seated Ernie Dragan [seen below]. This may or may
not have been the same game where, in the 9th inning, Ernie, Dave and
I razzed Antonio Osuna so badly, in Spanish, he walked two straight
batters and gave the C’s a victory, simultaneously earning us
credibility with the pitchers.

Eventually, we were invited to sit down
in the bullpen area; since we were staff, no one seemed to mind, and
the players liked that we kept the looky-loos away using our friendly
demeanour. 

At first, it was Ernie, Jason and I. By 1994, Jason had been there
5 years, me four and Ernie three; we had enough stadium presence for
people not to object to our behaviour. We’d wait to see if we had to
work, and then head down about the 3rd or 4th inning. Eventually, we
started showing up on non-scheduled days and spending the whole game
down there. Again, no one seemed to mind, and it kept the team from
having to employ a paid security guard.

 

In 1995, it was the second year of the Angels. The only pitcher of
note from that team and that bullpen was Billy Simas, who was able to
throw together a few good years in the show, after he was traded to the
White Sox. The most approachable guy was Julian Heredia, probably
because he didn’t know anybody, and he saw us hanging around so much.
But the treat was a guy named Ken Edenfield. The Joey Newby of his day,
he hated Brent Imlach and how cheap the organization was. On any chance
of a play in the corner, he was the first guy to throw his chair, not
to avoid controversy but to purposely break it, because he wanted the
team to buy the ‘pen new equipment. It got so he had to be warned
against do that. On a lighter side, on autograph day, Ernie got him to
sign one of the broken chair legs. That gave us our "in". 

From then on we were regulars in the bullpen area. If we weren’t
working, we were hanging out. We even road tripped to Tacoma or
Portland to watch the boys; they appreciated the effort, even inviting
us out drinking in Tacoma a couple of times to start the season. [This
is where the Alehouse from the road trip with Matt fits in.] 

Between
1995-98, the glory years for the hawkers in Triple-A, we got to hang
with guys like Dennis Springer, Fausto Tejero, George Fabregas, Bengi
Molina, David Holdridge and Mark Holzemer. Plus, during warm ups, guys
like Orlando Palmeiro, Jim Edmonds and Darin Erstad would come over and
say hi. We got to know the boys quite well; at one point, Bengi was
going to stay with Ernie’s brother, but the day he was to move was the
day he got called up.

My favourite story is from 1995. Back when I taught structured
summer school, I used to finish about 1:00. Being single, I would just go
straight to the park, and proceed to spend the 5 hours before game time
doing my marking and prepping lessons. I’d just sit in the BBQ area and
just work. If the game started, and I wasn’t working, I’d move a table
into the bullpen and keep working.

One sunny evening in July, around a
second inning, then-C’s pitching coach Gary Ruby came strolling down to
the bullpen. He wanted to know "what the hell" his players were doing
reading in the bullpen. Ken Edenfield [seen left] shot back that "we’re helping Rob
mark tests!"

And, indeed, they were; I’d let the boys check out my
work, and since it was a test comparing US versus Canadian government,
they felt it educational to check it out. Coach Ruby just looked, shook
his head, and went back to the dugout.

When it came to creating a Beer Hawker Player of the Year, big
Dave Rowan was the first one to mention that. It was some random
comment one day, after Orlando Palmeiro spent a whole game trying to
hit us from left field, when he would tell whoever he was catching with
to move on his last throw. He would do stuff like that to make sure we
were paying attention; we think it was also a sign he liked us, because
it became like a game between us, something he’d do all the time. [They
were just casual lobs, not bullets intended to kill.].

At that point,
Dave anointed him Beer Hawker Player of the Game. A few more weeks of
watching and appointing the ceremonial moniker led to Player of the
Year, and the presentation of an end-of-year three trays of beer to the
clubhouse.

It grew from there, and survived the transition from Triple-A to
Single-A, despite the fact that we don’t get to hang in the bullpen
anymore. The brevity of the Single-A season prevents our getting to
know the guys all that well; there aren’t any April nights to hang out
with them in a near-empty stadium. However, I think now it means more
to the players, because many of them do not make it to the Big Dance; it
becomes another solid memory from their time as a pro athlete.

I know
from watching the reaction of the players to Dante Love winning on
Wednesday that it has come across as an award given to the guy the
actual awards skip over. It’s like recognition someone actually did see
them play. In other words, Dan Hamblin might have gotten a lot of
press, but the fans and employees also validated the efforts of
part-timer D-Love. Even as someone pointed out that most of the
Single-A players who won got released, I was able to point out that all
but one at least got promoted and given more chances.

That brought out
the D-Love smile, and further reinforced his victory.

To Dante Love: Beer Hawker Player of the Year. See you in Kane, you magnificent bastard! (Apologies to General G. Patton)

 

And that’s the origin of the legend.