by Steve Leary
To understand the current craze
surrounding Beanie Babies, consider these events which occurred at the baseball All-Star
game in Denver on July 7.
Each person entering Coors Field received a free stuffed bear named Glory. A riot broke
out at one stadium gate. Police were called in to take over distribution. A volunteer was
caught stealing a box of bears. Soon, collectors were roaming the stadium, pressuring fans
to sell them their bear.
"The very next night, they were selling on the Home Shopping Network for
$598," said Phyllis Merhige, vice president of public relations for the American
League.
On average, 10,000 more tickets are sold on Beanie nights, which explains why they are
popular with team owners, if not regular baseball fans. This year, all but a handful of
major league teams will give away Beanies in an effort to lure new fans to the games. One
of those teams is the Tampa Bay Devil Rays, whose first Beanie night was July 26.
"The response has been so huge that we already scheduled another one," said
Jennifer Pajerski, the Devil Rays' manager of sponsorship coordination. "People have
been calling every day."
Bats, balls, gloves, and seat cushions have been given away as promotions, but nothing
inflates the attendance figures like Beanies.
The hordes of Beanie fans marching to ballparks have been showered with disapproval
from fans and the media. These Beanie-ophiles resemble nothing so much as Genghis Khan's
henchmen. Their sins include greed, theft, dishonesty, and worse, ignorance of baseball.
They are sullying the game, say baseball purists, who are not noted for tolerance of
sacrilege in the Church of Baseball. Attending a Beanie game, they say, is more dangerous
than buying a ticket on $1 beer night.
Baseball is a decidedly tough sell to these legume lovers. After securing ownership of
their stuffed treasure, many leave the ballpark immediately. They have a fascination, nay,
obsession with their picayune pets to the exclusion of all else. Like alcoholics thinking
about the next drink, they are only concerned about finding and owning their next Beanie.
But why are Beanie buffs deliberately being enticed to this particular house of worship?
Their youngsters are baseball's true targets. Baseball is desperate to woo new, younger
fans to the
ballparks. The demographics of baseball fandom are ominous. Anyone who has attended a
recent service at the Church of Baseball and looked around at his fellow parishioners has
seen the truth. The average fan is too old and too white. Baseball is engaged in a fevered
battle with other sports
for the attention of Generation X and their offspring.
In a Star Trek episode from the 1960s, furry little fuzzball creatures called Tribbles
ceaselessly multiplied so that they threatened to clog up the Enterprise. Beanies, you
might say, are Tribbles with a face. Supposedly worth their weight in dilithium crystals,
Beanies are everywhere.
McDonald's has sold 250 million Teenie Beanie Babies. Beanies are sold on cable TV
channels, in newspaper classified ads, on Internet web pages, and even in sports
collectible stores in shopping malls. Soon, every man, woman, and child in the entire
world will own one of the nouveau tribbles if current trends continue.
Before true baseball fans get any ideas about becoming collectors, consider a few words
of caution. Many experts on the collecting business are skeptical of the long-term value
of Beanies.
"I wouldn't recommend investing money in Beanie Babies," said Steve
Ellingboe, editor of Today's Collector magazine. "It's not developing the way a
normal collectible does."
"If something is marketed as a collectible," said Chris Jussel, host of PBS's
Antiques Roadshow, "you should run the other way."
Instead, Beanie buffs are running over each other. They scamper to the ballparks for a
cheap doll, hoping it will someday transform into a winning lottery ticket, and miss the
action from some of the greatest players in the history of the game.
Today's baseball players are in many ways better than ever before. Roger Maris' home
run record might not simply be broken; it might be shattered, thrust to the ground, and
stomped on, as three kings of swing have a legitimate shot at topping 61. Hack Wilson's
RBI record could fall. The New York Yankees might garner more wins than any team in
history.
Naysayers love to downplay today's achievements. It's the ball, the air, the bats,
expansion teams. It's anything but the players themselves. How long will the denial of the
truth last? Today, more than ever, the game can stand on its own merits.
But there are not enough true fans to fill the stadiums for all the games. Hence, the
Beanie invasion. The strike of 1994 is partly to blame for baseball's bear market over the
past few years, but time, as they say, heals all wounds.
"It seems like baseball is finally getting out from under that black cloud,"
said Vince Wladika, spokesman for Fox TV. "People are tuning in again because there
are so many exciting things going on."
Baseball is now regaining its health thanks to many factors. Interleague play last
season drew an average of 34,407 fans, up 20.2 percent over other games. Attendance this
year is up five percent over last year.
Fans know they're likely to see action at a ballgame these days. Pitching duels are out
of style. After a 1-0 game, you might hear a joke: "I went to a baseball game and a
soccer match broke out." In terms of offense, baseball is batting toward basketball,
not sliding toward soccer.
"If we keep moving in the right direction, by the turn of the century you will see
the greatest renaissance in baseball history," said Commissioner Bud Selig.
"People talk about the so-called
Golden Era of the 1940s and 1950s. Average attendance was 13,000 then; this year it'll be
over 29,000."
Most Beanie fans, we all know, will never again pass the threshold of a baseball
stadium turnstile. But a few will feel the magic, and sense something special. They will
be the newest converts
to the Church of Baseball.
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