Fenced-Out Fans Might Lose Touch With Heroes

California Angels management recently decided to erect a six-foot-high chain-link fence to keep fans away from players who, after games, have to make their way from the stadium to the parking lot.

The new fence runs from the stadium near Gate 7 to another fenced-off area where players park their automobiles.

Until the barrier was built three weeks ago, Anaheim was one of the last stadiums in the major leagues where fans--if they wanted to wait outside after a game--could walk up to a player and ask for an autograph or just ask a question.

But, according to Angels officials, the unrestrained fans mobbed and stampeded team members. It got out of hand, and the players complained. Up went the fence.

One woman was so intent on getting Wally Joyner’s autograph that she rammed his automobile, said Kevin Uhlich, the Angels stadium operations director.

“It became too much of a problem. The players were being bombarded, crowded and stampeded by the fans,” Uhlich said. “Something had to be done.”

Fans called The Times to complain that it was just another move by management to keep them away from the players. An editor sent me to Anaheim Stadium last Sunday to see how the fence was working.

Watching youngsters hang on the barrier and call out to players dredged up some childhood memories of a baseball that sat on my dresser at home. On the horsehide was the signature of Yogi Berra, one of my childhood heroes. The baseball was not important; the signature was. Because of Yogi, I spent four summers crouched behind home plate ducking bats and balls.

That ball came into my life so long ago that the line between fact and fantasy might have become blurred. I think it was the 1949 World Series between the Brooklyn Dodgers and the New York Yankees at Ebbets Field. I vaguely remember hanging over the railing with my dad during pregame batting practice calling out Yogi’s name.

Finally, Yogi stopped what he was doing and came over to the railing. He took the pen and signed the ball. Or maybe, as my sister once suggested, dad bought the ball from a stadium vendor with Yogi’s signature already on it.

The Yogi baseball shared the sacred altar atop my dresser with mementos from some of my all-time favorite players--Harold (Pee Wee) Reese, John (The Big Cat) Mize, Stan Musial and Joe DiMaggio.

I can remember listening to baseball games on the radio in my bedroom and studying the mementos on top of the dresser. They were an important part of my life then.

It would be a shame if the new fence in any way impedes a youngster from getting the autograph of his or her baseball hero.

“Mr. Winfield, Mr. Winfield,” the youngsters called through the fence as the superstar walked by on the other side of the fence. “Please sign this. Please.”

Luis Polonia stopped by the fence. A crowd gathered. He signed autograph after autograph as the gloves, baseball cards and programs were passed over the fence.

I can’t remember when I last saw my Yogi baseball, but I fear it has been lost forever during one of the many moves. But its memories are still there.