BALLHAWKS : Batting Practice Really Catches On With Mariner Fans

The 49-year-old college professor ran hard to his right, then downward over three sets of bleacher seats before thrusting out his glove to catch the 400-foot batting practice home run. Ken Moore came sliding to a halt, turned and held up his glove in a triumphant gesture, cracking a big smile.

Just another day at the park for the “Hawk.” As in ballhawk.

Moore is one of about a dozen men who almost daily venture into the Kingdome for their rendition of the old “knot-hole gang” experience, when youngsters received game passes in exchange for the home runs and foul balls they ran down.

Moore spent many days outside San Diego’s Lane Field during the early 1950s, dodging cars traveling the old Pacific Coast Highway in pursuit of balls hit out of the park.

“It was dangerous, but I loved it,” he said. “We got a buck a ball, which got us into the game. This is different. Now we dodge the bleacher seats, but it’s still a kick.

“My first ball? Wow. It was my first game. I caught a foul ball Fred Hatfield (Detroit Tigers) hit off the great Satchell Paige (Browns) in 1952 in St. Louis.”

The new breed, most of them men in their 30s and 40s, spend $5.50 daily just for the pleasure of catching batting practice home runs behind the left and right field fences. The game also is included for the price of the ticket.

Moore, who figures he caught 120 batting practice balls (before 60 games) and another dozen home run balls last season, is considered by many (anywhere between 30 and 300 people show up) as the best of the ball shaggers.

“He is the best at getting a good jump the second the ball is hit and running it down. And he’s fearless out there,” said a newspaper employee who preferred anonymity.

“Probably my best catch was a Dave Kingman drive a few years ago that I had to go a long way for,” Moore said, talking like the college center fielder he was for Redlands (Calif.) University. “At the end of it I ran into the end of a row (of seats) and put a nasty gash in a knee. But I made the catch. I wear shin guards and knee pads now.”

“Yeah, he’s a real loonie,” said an admirer, Carl Harms. “My wife saw him do that one and she said, ‘You stay away from him, he’s crazy.”’

Some of the regulars even consider themselves better ball-catchers than many of the major leaguers being paid hefty salaries to run down balls.

“The players don’t catch balls hit as long (and hard) as the ones we catch,” said the newspaper employee, who at 49 figures he’s got 16 more years before he hangs up his glove. “Plus, we’ve got obstacles and other people to fight off.”

They’ve also got pride in their form of recreation.

“Regulars have ethics and don’t push each other around,” Moore said. “We’re friendly. Besides, no ball is worth that. But some of the guys who just show up once in a while try to push you around. Those guys you learn to avoid.”

Naturally, some of the shaggers are more serious than others. Take John Hamilton, a 43-year-old owner of an antique store who has kept all of the 392 balls he has retrieved during his eight years in the stands.

“I consider myself a ballplayer out there. I’m an active participant,” Hamilton said. “It’s tough because the ball comes off the bat spinning. It moves faster when a pro hits it. And they hurt when you catch them.”

The regulars also have their own secrets, such as: “Always try to be the front mitt” or, right field is best “because while more balls are hit to left, there are fewer people per ball in right.”

Most of the regulars give their batting practice catches to kids. Hamilton is an exception. He has had each ball autographed by a player and placed in a trophy case.

Moore doesn’t keep the batting practice balls, but he has all of his 22 home run catches, many of which have stories behind them.

“A home run hit last year by Phil Bradley (former Mariner) off Don Sutton (former Angel) had a fingernail cut across the threads,” Moore said. He got both Sutton and Bradley to sign the ball, though Sutton was unaware of the ball’s condition when he wrote his name.

“After he signed it,” Moore said, “I showed him the cut. He got a little mad and said, ‘I suppose you went to the newspapers about it.’ I said I didn’t think it would be news to anyone.”