Legend of Susan grows in Arizona
And you know what? I really miss that part of it. And that's why I so admire and envy Susan Price.
Unless you go to Arizona Diamondbacks or Tucson Sidewinders or, especially, Scottsdale Scorpions AFL games, you probably don't know who Susan is. But if you've been to Chase Field or Tucson Electric or Scottsdale Stadium, there is no way you can miss her.
From the moment the game begins (and often well before that), she is at her usual perch in the front row behind the home dugout, exorting, cheering, clapping enthusiastically on every single swing, every single pitch.
She is always encouraging, always optimistic. She knows all of her players by name and nickname. She is always there (she's missed just one game in the last several years). She is always smiling, having a great time.
And she is loud. Really loud. She has an unmistakable voice, low and raspy, that would probably be easily distinguishable even in a sold-out 50,000-seat stadium. In the nearly empty AFL parks?
You can't miss Susan.
All the players in the league know who she is, and the guys on Scottsdale are happy to have her on "their team."
Scottsdale outfielder Jerry Owens of the Chicago White Sox is in his second season in the AFL, having played for Peoria in 2004.
"I think she's awesome. I love her. She puts a smile on my face, to see that she's really that happy to be here and it's sincere," Owens said of Price. "She's a true fan. We need more people like her."
I've been coming to the fall league for years myself now and I've always wanted to meet her, to find out more about her, to learn what makes her tick.
Last week I finally got the chance.
The passion for the game dates back to her own childhood days growing up in El Paso, Texas, the daughter of a career Air Force man who lived and died for his hometown Chicago White Sox.
"This was in the day and age when there was only one game on TV every week, you saw 'The Game of the Week' and that was it," she recalled. "Part of the charm of the game is that it makes me remember my dad."
Though not a career military woman herself, Susan moved around a lot, from Texas to Minnesota, where she raised her family, and finally on to Los Angeles.
After several years in the music business in L.A., where she worked as a manager for several up-and-coming "nu-metal" rock bands, she was ready for a change in her lifestyle, and the timing was right.
She took advantage of a window of opportunity as a few of her bands, among them System of a Down, were signed by major record labels within a short period of time. She was able to sell her company and "retire" at an age when most people can only dream of packing up and going somewhere to watch baseball full-time.
"I needed to get away from L.A.," she said.
A devoted family woman whose career before the music business had been working with her ex-husband helping to build up his career in the auto racing profession, Price moved to Phoenix while her kids were scattered across the country in Minnesota, Chicago and North Carolina.
She laughs when she tries to explain why she cheers with such passion, such abandon.
"The best way I can describe it is that the two things I did in my life, working with my husband and his racing and then in music, you're hands-on helping in every aspect of the job," she said. "And suddenly I'm here at the baseball game, and I want to help! That's my motivation. When I yell at the pitcher to get a strikeout, I'm hoping he gets fired up to strike someone out!" Under her baseball cap, her remarkably blue eyes sparkle.
"I understand it doesn't help really," she said. "But it might help a little bit. Sometimes."
Susan never asks for an autograph. She never goes to the Fanfests to "meet" the players. If she sees them in "real life," she does not approach them.
Maybe it comes from her experience with rock musicians, with whom the parallels with baseball players are so numerous, that keeps her very respectfully aware of not overstepping those "private life" boundaries.
Whatever the reason for her keeping her fanaticism limited, it is very much appreciated and respected by the players.
"They know two things: I won't bother them away from the field. I won't go to a restaurant hoping I'll see them there, and if I do see them out there I won't run up to them," she said.
"And the other thing is I never pick someone as my favorite. When I cheer for them, I don't cheer for one more than another."
The legend of Susan is passed on from the veterans to the newbies each spring, or each fall. She knows that. And though she has gotten the moniker "Superfan Susan" from others, she would never, ever use it about herself.
Because unlike many face-painted, sign-wielding, gyrating-in-the-stands fans who love the red light of the Jumbotron camera, it has never been "about Susan," but always about the game and the players.
"It should all be focused on them," she said. "I just want to hang out here and cheer and go home."
And no, home doesn't mean watching 10 more games on TiVo until the next day's game. Not with her family and friends to keep up with all over the country.
"I have so much other stuff that when it's not baseball I'm still busy," she said. "I think some people have this idea that when the game is over I go in a hole until the next game."
I asked her if she took the time, to mangle an old expression, to "stop and smell the infield grass."
"I do it every day," she said sincerely. "Every day I walk in here and say 'it doesn't get any better than this. It truly doesn't.'"
Lisa Winston is a reporter for MLB.com.