Shipping Up To Pawtucket

Sometimes, the fantasy baseball gods smile on you.

Oh, not on me. They haven't smiled on the Darling Asteroids all season.

I feel like a confused boyfriend: Me and the fantasy gods are apparently in a fight, and I have no idea what I did wrong.

But they've certainly taken a shining to my roommate Kyle.

First his best pitcher, Cliff Lee, gets traded from Seattle to the front-running, offensively-gifted Rangers, ensuring him more run support and many more wins.

And now Dustin Pedroia, his starting second baseman who's currently on the DL, is having a few rehab starts in Pawtucket, RI...just a hop and a skip from us.

What better chance to go and see baseball's fourth best second baseman in action?

Hoping to witness some whacky minor league hijinks a la Bull Durham or Major League 3: Back to the Minors, we piled into a car and were off.

About an hour later we arrived in a suburban Rhode Island town, greeted by a wooden sign reading, "Welcome to historic Pawtucket."

Kyle's bearded face twisted with puzzlement.

"Why is Pawtucket so historic?" he asked.

You know why.

We parked and strolled towards McCoy Stadium as the PawSox prepared to do battle with the Buffalo Bison, the New York Mets Triple-A affiliate.

As per contractual agreement, we weren't within 50 feet of the stadium before hearing the Dropkick Murphys' signature song.

Will Smith did it with "Miami."

Jay-Z did it with "Empire State of Mind."

And now the Murphys have written Boston's default "get-pumped sports anthem," ensuring they live on forever in local lore and are invited to play state fairs for years to come.

Well played, Dropkicks.

We sat in the upper deck along the third base line, the perfect spot to view everyone's favorite diminutive defenseman in action.

Unfortunately, Little Boy Pete was listed as the DH, robbing us of a chance to see his trademark grit and determination in the field.

He doesn't stop grounders with his glove. He stops them with his heart.

Regardless, a mostly sellout crowd was ready for some baseball.

But excitement quickly turned to sadness as Pedroia bounced into an inning-ending double play in the first, weakly smacking a pitch that Brandon Phillips would have scorched off the IHOP sign in right for a double.

Still, minor league baseball remains a great, cheap alternative to the big leagues where you can see stars of tomorrow as well as a few familiar faces.

Former Cubs pitcher Rich Hill was on the bump for the PawSox, and former catcher Michael Barrett pulled backstop duty for the Bison.

And the once great Carlos Delgado, he of the 473 career homeruns, hit cleanup for Pawtucket.

Sadly, he watched two fastballs go by before flailing at an 0-2 slider. It was a grim reminder that when star athletes fall, they fall hard.

Seeing the formerly feared Delgado in the minors just didn't feel right. I kept thinking:

"Does he really think he can still hang in the majors? Or is he holding on for a few more paychecks?"

Either way, the decision to walk away from the game is his and his alone, regardless of how far he falls and how painful it is to watch.

Go polish your Silver Slugger awards, Carlos. Everything will be OK.

Meanwhile, our Napoleonic warrior flies out meekly to right on a pitch that Ian Kinsler would have absolutely roped up the middle for a single.

The game was tied 1-1 in the 5th until Gil Velazquez, a career minor leaguer who definitely did not win the 2007 AL Rookie of the Year award, hit a two-run bomb into the PawSox bullpen to put them ahead 3-1.

Finally things are looking up for 'ole Gil.

The crowd was loving it, especially one little boy seated behind us.

Experiencing the age-old bond of fathers taking their sons to ballgames, Junior was asking the most adorable questions.

"Daddy, who's that man?"

"Daddy, did we win yet?"

"Daddy, how come Pedroia won the 2008 MVP when Justin Morneau had six more homeruns and 46 more RBIs in a lineup that wasn't nearly as good as the Red Sox?"

Kids say the darndest things.

Meanwhile, Captain Shortstack flies out to left, daintily lofting a pitch that Chase Utley would have totally deposited into the right field bleachers.

For those who have not yet realized, Dustin Pedroia is tiny. His 5-ft-9 listing is generous to say the least.

It's a shame he doesn't play shortstop. The jokes would write themselves.

The fans continued to root, root, root for the home team and were rewarded with a 3-1 victory.

We throw on Guided By Voices' "Alien Lanes" and sit in mostly silence on the ride home. As we motor away from McCoy Stadium, frontman Robert Pollard serenades us:

"You can't lie to yourself/That it's the chance of a lifetime."

And that's the best thing about minor league baseball. It's about watching guys who are so close to their dreams, they can feel it.

It's an intersection of careers...up-and-coming prospects sharing lockers with grizzled vets, all hoping for the same phone call.

I imagine Dustin Pedroia in the PawSox clubhouse, smiling to himself, knowing he's shipping up to Boston in a few days.

The youngsters gather around as he regales them with tales of being in the show, where you hit white balls for batting practice and never handle your own luggage.

A faint smirk disappears from Carlos Delgado's face. He knows his best days are behind him.

But hope springs eternal for the likes of Josh Reddick and Lars Anderson, who know their best days are still ahead.

The minors are about learning. They're about listening. They're about taking your hacks and waiting your turn.

As we go up, we go down.