1922 ALL--STAR GAME : Food for Thought at FanFest

First of all, let me tell you the most shocking thing I encountered at All-Star FanFest’s opening day Friday at the Convention Center.

I saw former major league baseball players sitting at tables and signing autographs for free.

I hope you were sitting down, maybe in one of those Comiskey Park box seats you bought for, what was it, $650 for a set of three. These players were signing gratis. No need to break your Minnesota Twin helmet bank or break out your checkbook.

No, Willie Mays wasn’t there, nor were Duke Snider or Mickey Mantle, but I did see a rather nice plate with the three of them on it. I can’t quote you the price because I was all sweaty and I was afraid to pick it up and look at the back. If you can’t afford to break it, you shouldn’t check the cost.

No, the greatest three center fielders ever to play in one neighborhood were not among those signing, but the schedule for between now and Tuesday includes the likes of Vida Blue, Orlando Cepeda, Bob Feller, Ferguson Jenkins, Bob Lemon, Juan Marichal, Brooks Robinson and Maury Wills.

You want a little San Diego flavor? How about Kurt Bevacqua, Nate Colbert, Rollie Fingers, Steve Garvey, Randy Jones and Graig Nettles. That’s in alphabetical order, Kurt, not in order of importance.

Just remember, they only sign flat surfaces. Don’t bother showing up with a ball or a bat or Morganna Roberts.

Of course, there is more to FanFest than free autographs, though that was a pretty stunning way to begin.

Indeed, this was as much a FanFeast as a FanFest.

And I’m not talking about the food . . . more on that later.

There is much to see and much to do, most of it relating to baseball.

I say “most of it” because there is a Collectors Showcase where memorabilia dealers, those commercialized heathens, offer anything they think will sell. That was where you could have gotten those Comiskey Park seats.

And that was also where you could have bought the highest-priced item I saw, a 1991 autographed Magic Johnson home jersey for a mere $4,495. It somehow did not seem appropriate that basketball should intrude upon this occasion, but then I realized Magic may be one of those rare athletes who can appear in a baseball All-Star game without ever playing in a regular-season game.

Should you care to venture to this exhibition hall to price baseball cards or jerseys or figurines that don’t look like the players they are supposed to be, you will be comforted to know an ATM is conveniently located outside the door. You’ll need it.

If SuperStar, SuperPriced swap meets are not your thing, go up the escalator to the fun and games (and free autographs).

You wanna see how you match up with Nolan Ryan?

Try the Bullpen, where your velocity and accuracy are measured as you throw pitches at a target. I was particularly impressed by a 2-foot, 6-inch towhead who rang up a strikeout with a 23-m.p.h. heater. And I was particularly bemused by a burly chap in a tank top who seemingly reached all the way to El Cajon to gather all he had and delivered a 47-m.p.h. scorcher. Very few pitches would have been stopped for speeding between Barstow and Las Vegas.

Another athletic opportunity presented itself at the Power Alley, where a life-sized image of Rollie Fingers wound up and delivered an assortment of pitches from seemingly nowhere. The idea was to put on a helmet, grab a bat and try to hit them. Rollie would have been distressed at the pummeling he was getting, but then the pitches were only coming in at 50-55 m.p.h.

You can also knock over milk bottles and pitch quarters for stuffed prizes at the FanFest Country Fair, but haven’t we all just gotten done being there and doing that at the Del Mar Fair?

Skip the fair and go straight to Cooperstown. Baseball’s Hall of Fame must have cleaned out a few exhibits to set this one up. It had everything but Sandy Koufax’s arm, Ty Cobb’s scowl, Babe Ruth’s paunch (it was there on film) and Gaylord Perry’s saliva.

By the way, you-know-who from Cincinnati, who does not send Valentines to Fay Vincent, was there in the Hall of Fame exhibit . . . at least his No. 14 jersey was.

There are so many displays and games (trivia is big) that you could watch a doubleheader in less time than it would take to do it all at the FanFest. You can even pose for a personalized baseball card. Free! And you can shunt the kids, if they are un-American delinquents, into an arcade room to keep them busy.

I walked past one wall and a hand came out with a baseball card. I took it and thanked the wall. It was a Ruben Sierra card. It reminded me that I would like a Reuben sandwich.

Yes, there was food. I went to the Jack Murphy Stadium booth out of a sense of loyalty to my hometown and cringed when I saw an item called “SAC Fly Sushi (with Tomahawk chop stix).” I was mortified that Mike Royko might hear about it and make fun of us again.

The FoodFest had representation from many of the major league (and former) parks, but most were as geographically skewed as the National League West. I finally picked up a Brewer tailgate bratwurst from the Ebbets Field booth. I could have gotten a Cincinnati red hot sausage at Ebbets . . . or a Philly cheesesteak from Crosley Field.

Incidentally, none of this stuff was free.

But a man cannot live on autographs alone.