Beyond the fieldright wall

Some of the most ardent fans of the Giants and the A’s cluster where they can best practice their trademark antics

BY SHAYNA RUBIN

Only a short drive across the Bay Bridge separates the Giants and the A’s, but their ballparks couldn’t be more different.

The Giants’ waterfront home turns 23 this spring and still is one of MLB’s jewels, while the A’s prepare for their 55th season in a crumbling stadium they have been trying to replace — and more recently completely abandon — for more than two decades.

Yet the Bay Area’s teams share a common bond: a world beyond their right field fences that makes the ballpark experience unique.

A core group of hardy San Francisco fans brave the waves and frigid fog to bob in the Bay for “splash hits.” And every game at the Coliseum includes a soundtrack and spectacle provided

Los Gatos’ Dave Edlund wasn’t the first to kayak McCovey Cove, hoping to catch home run balls — or rescue “splash hits” — in the Bay, but he’s the best. Edlund is closing in on 50 home run retrievals since grabbing his first — off the bat of Randy Winn — in 2005.

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by a fan base whose fierce loyalty makes up for its lack of numbers.

In both cases, there is nothing else like it in baseball.

Eye Of The Storm

A kayaker’s rule of thumb is to never paddle in a thunderstorm. But on this rare stormy San Francisco night, the McCovey Cove Dave bylaws advised otherwise.

It was September 11, 2017. The Los Angeles Dodgers were starting right-handed pitcher Kenta Maeda, which meant the Giants lineup was ripe with left-handed hitters: Joe Panik, Brandon Crawford, Jarrett Parker and, most importantly for Dave Edlund, AKA McCovey Cove Dave, was Denard Span.

Because left-handed hitters are more likely to pull home runs over the right field bricks, a lefty-heavy lineup meant the Cove would be jam-packed with boaters hunting splash hit baseballs. But a night with Span in the lineup was the jackpot for splash hit gurus like Edlund. He had good numbers against Maeda and four splash hit home runs nearly two seasons into his Giants tenure.

So when the 7 p.m. game was officially delayed until 10:30 p.m. as lightning strikes lit up the clouds above what was then AT&T Park, Edlund didn’t pack up his kayak and bolt like the rest of his competitors. He took a nap in his car and was out on the water once play resumed, joined only by Jon Miller and Dave Fleming crooning over his transistor radio headphones. It paid off: At 11 p.m., Span hit one into the water. In 20 seconds, Edlund had it.

“We all feel like we’re part of the game,” Edlund said. “It’s a sport of chasing memorabilia baseballs. And only a few people got that gene when they were born.”

For Edlund, ball-hawking in McCovey Cove is a sport, his fellow kayakers are his competition, and he’s played more games than Barry Bonds — he’s made it out on the Bay for most home games, since he quit his Silicon Valley job in 2005.

And while Edlund is the face of the McCovey Cove denizens, a vibrant aquatic fan culture has formed out on the water next to him.

Some of McCovey Dave’s competitors and fellow fans include “The Shark,” “Splash Hit Steve” and Mark Busch — who doesn’t want a nickname. They keep a tally of who has caught more splash hits — Edlund by a good number. They share secrets of the trade, and they’ve experienced their favorite team’s highs and lows together from beyond the ballpark walls.

Bleacher Creatures

Bryan Johansen is part of the “Last Dive Bar” group, one of a dozen bleacher creature crews that populate the mostly empty Coliseum seats. On broadcasts, you can see some of the banners he makes for A’s players: “Laser Ramón” for Ramón Laureano, “Kempin’ Ain’t Easy” for Tony Kemp.

During the pandemic season in 2020, Johansen used his seat for a cardboard cutout of the Houston Astros mascot Orbit sitting in a trash can — a poke at the A’s division rival for a cheating scandal in which Astros players pounded on trash cans from the dugout to relay signals to batters.

Johansen was told that the Astros saw the cutout during batting practice, complained to MLB and had it removed.

“They had him in jail, but I did get it back,” he said.

Johansen grew up an A’s fan, not just idolizing the players, but the bleacher crews he saw around the park. He idolized the “The Hendu Land Group” for Dave Henderson, of course, and the “Fly Boys” — two ball hawks named Mike Kelly and Jay Didier who would fly down the Coliseum railings in pursuit of home run balls.

Through the years, he’s seen other super fan crews pass through, including “The Green Man,” “Coco Fingers” and the “Melvin Misfits,” who have all lost faith and disappeared.

“Melvin Misfits got kids and left around the (Josh) Donaldson fire sale,” Johansen said. “Green Man left with the Marcus Semien departure, that was the final straw.”

A’s players may come and go, but some of the most loyal fans in baseball occupy the bleachers above the right field wall, where flags wave and drums beat. Some have even found their soulmates in those cheap green seats.

At least four couples from the current right field crew have said “I do” after romances kindled over countless A’s games and chants of “Let’s go, Oakland!”

“I think common interest was definitely the biggest thing for most of us, and that we were out there so frequently,” said Dublin native Rebekah Schlimmer, who met her husband, Daniel, in the bleachers. The pair were married in 2019. “We had already kinda built the friendship at that point. There were a few people that definitely saw (a relationship) coming.”

Some of the current group first

Top: Oakland Athletics fans Ben Sachez, of Oakland, and Nina Thorsen, of Alameda, play the drums during the A’s game against the Los Angeles Angels at the Oakland Coliseum on Tuesday, July 20, 2021.

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Bottom left: The core group of A’s fans in the right-field bleachers have attended games since the mid-2000s, forging strong friendships – and a few romances. Rebekah and Daniel Schlimmer met in the stands rooting for the A’s and much of their bleacher crew was in attendance when they were married in 2019.

COURTESY OF REBEKAH AND DANIEL SCHLIMMER started populating the right field bleachers in the early 2000s. While some faces have come and gone, A’s fans know all about that this core has remained largely intact. During the A’s offseason, they stay connected with bowling outings and pizza nights or by attending other sporting events together. And of course, attending each other’s weddings, including the union of James and Amanda Sanos, who traded vows on the Coliseum diamond in the summer of 2019.

Bottom right: Devon Errington, left, shows off a home run ball she recovered to Dave Edlund, right, as they kayak in McCovey Cove during a San Francisco Giants game on Sunday, May 9, 2021, in San Francisco.

“You find a way to get in,” Schlimmer said, “and then you’re in.”

Johansen does his part with the cutouts and banners he hangs over the railings. The players know about their banners and often ask for them as gifts. Threetime Athletic Jed Lowrie asked Johansen for his banner that said “Return of the Return of the Return of the Jed.”

Then there’s the drum beat, a rhythm created by the Oakland 68s from their spot in right field. They come from a long line of Coliseum drummers that began with Krazy George and continued with a group of mostly Skyline High School students in the early 2000s.

The drums are often accompanied by chants, too. In 2011, their “bacon” chants got former Royals outfielder Jeff Francoeur to throw a $100 bill up to the seats with directions: Beer and bacon on him.

Those same chants have gone wrong, too. Jose Guillèn, Álex Ríos and Magglio Ordóñez have directed angry words at the right field taunters.

“The best of all would have to be Josè Bautista,” said season ticket holder Will MacNeil, otherwise known as Right Field Will. “We had not even said anything to him yet, and he came out screaming and yelling at us, so that provided extra motivation and fire for us to just let him have it all game, all series and for years to come.”

Whether it’s racing for home run balls through water or railing, befriending your team’s guys or getting under opposing players’ skin, Bay Area fans take this stuff seriously.

“In my life, there’s my wife, there’s my son, and then there’s baseball,” Johansen said. “I lose any of those three things, my life significantly changes.”