True-Blue Devotion : Santa Clarita Valley Has Descended on Dodger Stadium Every Spring : for a Decade With Marching Bands, Beauty Queens and Thousands of Fans

The trip to Dodger Stadium has become a spring ritual for residents of the Santa Clarita Valley.

Each May, they descend from the mountains in a procession of chartered buses, making the one-hour drive south on Interstate 5 into downtown Los Angeles. Five thousand of them come to watch a week-night baseball game. They sit together in the reserved seats, high above the first-base line.

Schools, churches and local chambers of commerce sell tickets for weeks beforehand. Marching bands from three high schools in the small, hilly region rehearse afternoons for a brief appearance on the field.

This year, Barbara Chamberlin of Valencia--because she sold 226 tickets by herself--was selected to throw out the first ball. She spent the night before practicing in the backyard, tossing baseballs at a cardboard box set on top of an ice chest.

“When I was 10, Duke Snider was my idol,” said Chamberlin, now a 36-year-old elementary school worker. “You could ask me any batting average in the National or American League and I knew it.”

And this year’s community pilgrimage marked the Santa Clarita Valley’s 10th anniversary at Chavez Ravine. Ceremonies were planned by the Dodger organization to commemorate what was being called: “A Decade of Community Spirit.”

“I remember when I lived in Hemet,” said Steve Everett, who works in the Dodgers’ ticket marketing and promotions department. “Anytime you had an activity where you had to drive more than an hour away, it was a big deal.”

Dodger manager Tommy Lasorda was enlisted to take part in the pregame festivities, as were two persons dressed as Bugs Bunny and Ranger Raccoon.

It promised to be a special night.

The first buses pulled up to Dodger Stadium hours before game time. Red- and blue- and green-clad teen-agers spilled out onto the parking lot. The marching bands had arrived.

Inside the stadium, in a hallway behind the Dodgers’ dugout, some of the Santa Clarita Valley’s more prominent citizens gathered. There were high school principals, honorary mayors and beauty queens, all waiting to step onto the field for the pregame ceremony.

“I usually go to chamber of commerce mixers and grand openings,” said Tiffany Hogan, 17 years old and the reigning Miss Santa Clarita Valley. She came dressed in an evening gown and sash. “This Saturday I’ll be a judge at an elementary school carnival.”

Marinda Baley nodded in agreement. As the Canyon Country Frontier Belle, she had drawn similar civic duties. Now she eyed the baseball field with a certain trepidation.

“I’m afraid my heels are going to get stuck in the dirt,” said Baley, 21. “When I was a kid I used to play baseball. I got hit in the mouth with the ball.”

Watching over all this, from the empty stands behind home plate, was Sheila Sales. The tall, handsome 42-year-old blonde had been there for much of the day, preparing the evening’s itinerary. Sales was the one who came up with the idea for “Santa Clarita Valley Dodger Night.”

For many years, the Dodgers have offered discounts for group sales. Ordinarily, a church will buy 100 seats or Xerox will come with a thousand employees. Some communities may bring a couple thousand people. Sales thought, why not bring a whole valley? The PTA mother from Newhall figured it would be a good way to promote what she likes to call “community unity.”

Since 1978, Sales has devoted six months of each year to organizing the trip. She works for free. The chambers of commerce for Santa Clarita Valley and Canyon Country help with advertising. Everyone else pitches in selling tickets.

The Dodgers insist that the Santa Clarita Valley’s yearly group is the largest community outing in major league baseball.

“It’s an easy product to sell,” said an obviously biased Sales. “I’m selling a Cadillac.”

You see, if Sales seems committed to her community, she is twice as fanatical about the Dodgers. This is a woman who refers to announcer Vin Scully as “Vinnie.” The license plates on her blue Buick Regal read “LA BLUE.” The final four digits of her home phone number spell out B-L-U-E.

“You’ve got to believe,” she said, “I bleed blue.”

For this anniversary night, Sales had put together a show of shows. It would be her last hurrah. She was retiring to go professional, having been hired to organize similar events for Junior Achievement of Southern California.

And as the bands from Hart, Saugus and Canyon high schools practiced in the parking lot, Sales nervously lit another cigarette.

“This is the first time the three high school bands have played together. Now you know why I’ve been a nervous wreck,” Sales said. “But that’s what the concept of Dodger night is all about, to unite the community.”

Meanwhile, at a gate behind center field, almost a hundred valley residents began lining up to march onto the field. These were the ticket sellers who would take a pregame bow.

Eric Anderson, a 10-year-old from Canyon Country, brought his Dodgers cap and a mitt. His mother, Rona, stood beside the slight, quiet boy.

“He loves baseball,” she said. “That’s his whole life.”

Liz Reed peered anxiously toward the Dodger dugout. The 54-year-old Castaic bank worker was looking for someone.

“I’d like to meet Tommy Lasorda,” the gray-haired woman said. “I like him.”

Nearby, Pat Moynihan shifted from foot to foot and smiled uneasily. She was waiting to sing the national anthem. The professional jazz singer said she had practiced all week in the shower and was “so-so.”

“I’ve seen other people do it,” Moynihan said. “Why can’t I?”

And the color guard--four high school ROTC students in military uniforms--pulled their flags from long, thin cardboard boxes.

“We’ve done high school football games before, so we know which way to go,” said Commander Karen Hesseltine, the group’s 15-year-old leader. “But if we drop the flag, we’re dead.”

The ceremony went off without a hitch. The ticket sellers took their bows as the Dodger scoreboard lit in words of homage to the Santa Clarita Valley. Sales kissed Lasorda and gave him a commemorative plaque. He gave her an autographed baseball and bat. Dodger coach and former star Bill Russell thanked Sales for her “10 years of true blue devotion.”

Neither beauty queen sunk heels-first into the infield dirt. Chamberlin threw a perfect strike. Moynihan nailed the anthem. The flag remained aloft.

Afterward, everyone retired to the stands for beers, hot dogs and the ballgame. Local officials were beaming.

“It’s the idea that we’re coming here and it’s our night,” said Ruth Clark, the honorary mayor of Canyon Country. “You get down there on the field and look up into the stands to see if there’s anyone you know. I saw some celebrities. Then I realized, “I’m a celebrity because I’m down here on the field.’ ”

Later in the evening, few of the 5,000 fans sitting in sections 32 through 60 paid attention to the game. At the hot dog stands and even in the restrooms there were handshakes and friendly nods of recognition. People jammed the aisles talking to neighbors, or friends they hadn’t seen since last year’s game.

“We don’t ever watch the baseball game,” said Carrie Centonze, 17, of Canyon Country. “We walk around and talk to people.”

Said Glenn Galusha, of Newhall: “It’s a social occasion.”

Not everyone was happy to be a part of this baseball reunion. Somehow, two gentlemen vacationing from Detroit had been seated in the middle of it all.

“This is terrible,” said one of the men.

The other shook his head angrily.

“How can we see the game with all these people walking around in front of us? What’s wrong with them?”