The Pacifics Create A League of their Own for Marin

Many moons ago, my husband and I started our business in Philadelphia, where we were both born and raised. We landed a large department store account, John Wanamaker, which meant producing a great deal of TV commercials with all sorts of vendors from top designers like Bill Blass and Oscar de la Renta, to china by Royal Doulton and Mikasa. We had a 13-floor department store to use as our locations, as long as we filmed at night when the store was closed.

I was in perpetual heaven with all the fashion and fabulous merchandise to play with. Other than not sleeping much, it was a pretty incredible gig, and my husband agreed. Except when it competed with a professional sport campaign.

I was to produce TV ads introducing a new sports commentator for the NBC affiliate, named Howard Eskin as I recall, (though we moved here shortly thereafter and I am not sure where he ended up) with an in-house director, while my husband soldiered on directing a spring fashion slate.

In the course of one week I was at every sacred sport facility in Philly (and they are ALL sacred to Philly fans), interviewing legends in every sport; Larry Holmes, Herm Edwards, Bobby Orr, Billy Cunningham and others.

I’d come home with abundant tales to tell, while hubs was turning greener each day.

Shooting a sequence with the Phillies, one of the players shouted out to me from the dugout phone telling me there was a call on the line for me.  It was hubs.

“Who was that,” hubs asked wistfully? “Pete Rose, “ I responded. “Just do me one favor,” he said as nicely as he could with teeth so tightly clenched: “Have him autograph a ball for me.” Of course, and I was right off to Rose with this request.

Pete told me no, absolutely no (free) autographs.

I saw Pete recently- he was sitting at a table waiting for autograph seekers at a sports memorabilia store at The Forum Shops at Caesar’s in Vegas. Not a soul was in line.

And now, hubs is having his day on the diamond, at Albert Park, as we film TV commercials for the spirited San Rafael Pacifics, Marin’s first ever professional baseball team, as they prepare to launch their second season as the minor league team the entire county is pumped about.

And it’s no wonder why.

There’s something so right about a team that is bursting with passion. There’s something that screams “for the love of the game” amongst these young players and the rest of the staff. There’s something so nostalgic in the most positive sense, as we struggle to overcome our twenty-first century economic malaise and caustic political rhetoric, with a team that embodies the sentiment of the golden era of baseball.

The players are more than happy to get plenty dirty as hubs shoots footage reminiscent of every baseball movie every made.  

Marinite and longtime sports journalist Bruce Macgowan conjures up a stellar performance as a “back in the day,” play-by-play announcer that Grantland Rice would high five.

It’s all good here on this day and there’s much, much more to come as we spring forward.

If you treat yourself to an outing at Albert Park this season, you might not see the Panda, or the newly shorn Timmy or the rest of those great guys, but you will see the game of baseball up close and personal.

My thought is that none of these players will ever be schlepping autographs on
the Vegas Strip as long as there’s a field to play on. For these ballplayers, Marin IS their “field of dreams.”