Peggy Dover

I admit that my main motivation for driving south that Thursday evening was to witness a Prune Packer mascot in action.

Lane agreed to meet me at Harry & David Field for game three between the Healdsburg (California) Prune Packers and the Medford Rogues. For the uninitiated, these are collegiate baseball teams in the Pacific Empire League.

Lane had his own thoughts on the subject. “Maybe the mascot is a large prune — one that rolls on the ground after a run, sort of like the Oregon Duck’s pushups.”

I reminded him that it’s a packer of prunes and not a prune itself. All I could imagine was an average Joe in a flannel shirt and cap with purple-stained hands and teeth, and maybe a Sunsweet packing box around his neck. I looked forward to finding out and maybe watching a little baseball on the side.

Summer just isn’t summer without a couple of Rogues baseball games. It’s just the ticket for daydreaming about all the chores you should be doing. It was a lovely, breezy afternoon at the south end of Medford, and the perfect reentry into the land of the living after a sickbed sentence. The Prune Packers have a great season going and had been giving it to our Rogues during their three-night visit. This would be the Rogues’ final opportunity to send the Packers packing.

Priorities are the name of the game when taking one’s place among the stands. We immediately got in the food line for hot dogs, only pausing long enough to pay attention to the National Anthem. Hot dogs are a rare and guilty pleasure of mine going way back. I drown them in mustard with a garnish of relish for a dash of sweet. It had been a while, so I was visualizing a grand-sized Polish dog. One of those ample boat-loads of whatever tasty bits they’re made of large enough to last a couple of innings if they were quick about it. These were good, Nathan’s hot dogs, but I resisted ordering three. Popcorn waited in the wings.

Let’s just say that the first four innings were fairly uneventful. That’s when I wanted to yell, “Speed it up a little!” I was beginning to eye the gate. But I know that baseball is also prized for fostering a wind-down — for forcing us to soak in the good life for an evening of spacing out and small talk, to look on as the kids become an increasingly sticky mess and adults slop beer all over their shorts. But I know the tempo can change quickly.

The Rogue bats began connecting and it turned into a thrilling game. I couldn’t understand why there was such a mass exodus from the bleachers just as excitement was building. I was a little disappointed in the lack of crowd participation — as in offering the ump a fresh pair of glasses. But Rogue Nation is a well-behaved bunch, though I heard that our mascot, Rowdy, who looks a little like a pirate in a baseball uniform with a tooth missing, had been thrown out of the game early for kicking dust on the ump. I never saw the rascal.

I never saw the prune packing mascot, either, and I was plum disappointed. Lane suggested that maybe it doesn’t attend away games during prune season. When I found a picture of it online, I was stunned to see that Packer Pete could have been an early 1900s ancestor of Rowdy, with a baseball for a head and handlebar mustache. A little research revealed that the Prune Packers boast quite an illustrious history. Their team dates back to 1921 when indeed prune packing was a major industry, taking the fruit from Windsor and surrounding areas to ship all over the world. I don’t know if they beat out the Santa Cruz Banana Slugs for mascot renown, but they’re definitely in the running.

Bully to the Medford Rogues for being only one of two teams to take a game away from the Packers this season, winning 10-9.

And remember, Packer Pete says, “Prunes-R-Cool!” I will refrain from embellishing on his profundity.