A winning product, and not just on the field

The best way to measure success, perhaps, is with numbers. To throw them out cold and let them sit, unexplained, like chips on a poker table.

Try this one on for size: 1,000 wins, the milestone reached June 2 by the Fort Myers Miracle, the Minnesota Twins affiliate that has called Hammond Stadium home for the past 15 seasons.

But forget about all the victories. This is the rare ballgame in which losses carry equal value, because it takes each total to form the biggest digit of all.

Even bigger than 1,000.

The Miracle have played 1,963 games since relocating from Miami in 1992. That makes for a very ordinary winning percentage — .510 — but, considering all that has happened since their first opening day, even the worst losses have meaning.

They represent stability.

"When you stay in one place as long as we've been here," said Andrew Seymour, the Miracle's assistant general manager, "it shows that we're not a fly-by-night. People see it's a viable form of entertainment. They don't have to worry about getting hurt if they invest their time."

Make no mistake, the Miracle have produced plenty of fireworks on the field. They have won three division titles in the Florida State League and produced a who's who of big-league players. This year's team entered Saturday's game in Lakeland with a 34-27 record, tied with Dunedin atop the Western Division.

But even the Twins aren't concerned with the winning percentage. The objective of the Miracle, like any minor-league club, is to develop talent for the parent organization.

And draw fans.

"We have zero control over our players," said Sean Aronson, the Miracle's media relations director. "The only thing we can control is what goes on inside the gates."

Someone's got to control this madness, right? If there is anything the Miracle are known to have — even more than stability — it's the wherewithal to show folks a good time.

There is nothing ordinary about an ordinary night in Hammond Stadium. A trip to watch the Miracle is likely to include potato-sack races, arm-wrestling matches and everything in between. Then you have the wacky, Saturday Night Live-like promotions, many of them dreamed up by Seymour himself.

"The best promotions," Aronson said, "are done spontaneously."

Comic relief has been a staple in south Fort Myers, but the hardcore fans come for the talent.

Oh, the talent.

The Twins are not the New York Yankees or the Boston Red Sox, teams with enough money to pluck free agents at will. That has benefits for fans in Fort Myers. The philosophy of Minnesota, as with other medium-market franchises, is to bring talent up through the farm system, patiently nurturing the players as they grow into big-league prospects.

To consider the success of the Twins — they haven't endured a losing season since 2000, despite their modest payroll — it's apparent the franchise has drafted well, because otherwise the club would struggle.

The best prospects, however, do not stay in Single-A for long. Last year's Miracle, for instance, had 13 of their original 25 players called up to Double-A by season's end. Good news for the Twins, to be sure, because it meant their system was working. Yet the Miracle missed the playoffs, changing lineups like uniforms.

"That's the nature of the beast," Aronson said.

But the true fans appreciate the process. Watching the Miracle gives the community a chance to see tomorrow's stars before they become household names. Before they become untouchable.

That's why Kenny Whelan, a bass guitarist with long blond hair, sits in Section 114 a few feet from the Miracle dugout. It puts him within a handshake of the pro players, something no big- league park can replicate. He attends the occasional Devil Rays game in St. Petersburg, but that's usually if the Twins are in town.

Lyn Izzo is pulled to the park by a stronger power. She has been a Twins fan since she was a kid in Minnesota listening to games on the radio. She met her husband at spring training in 1993. If the Miracle were affiliated with any other franchise, Izzo might still be in Section 103 every night. But it wouldn't mean as much.

Diane Malkowski's motivation?

She loves the talent on display, sure, but any game with balls and strikes is worth watching. She used to attend Marlins games on the weekends. Then she found the Miracle.

There she was Tuesday night, back in Section 115. She was wearing an Albert Belle jersey and a Cleveland Indians cap. It was her way of observing "Halloween Night" at Hammond Stadium, the promotion to celebrate 06-06-06.

"A night out at the ball game is not going to wipe you out," Malkowski said. "I'll have a few beers and I like the brats they have at the grill. The season tickets are $295, the best value in town. It's four bucks a game and the parking is free. You can't beat it."

But the Miracle will always try. There is a sign hanging in the upstairs office that reads, "IF WE DON'T TAKE CARE OF THE CUSTOMER ... SOMEBODY ELSE WILL," and it is such a mind-set that drives club officials to have a winning product. They live by the motto, "Fun is Good," passed down by co-owner Mike Veeck.

Maybe that's why Seymour, the face of the team, was dressed like a hot dog Tuesday night, handing candy to fans as he took their tickets at the gate.

"They provide a viable entertainment option for people who live here," said Gary Ewen, the Lee County Sports Authority development manager, "as well as for visitors to our area. It left a void when the Royals left and people started to realize what they were missing. You could watch baseball every day if you wanted. This area was hurt when that wasn't here."

The Royals were a Single-A outfit who played their home games at Terry Park, where parent Kansas City conducted its spring training. They spent 10 seasons in Fort Myers before relocating in 1988. Four years later, the Miracle surfaced, jumping into a brand-new, 7,500-seat stadium on Six Mile Cypress Road.

The area has grown up since the beginning. Seymour points beyond the left-field wall, where a row of commercial businesses occupy space, as proof that things have changed. That used to be cow pastures. There is generally traffic on the roads outside the stadium, especially since South Fort Myers High was built nearby.

"Just by sheer numbers alone," Seymour said, "you've got to like your chances of playing host to more people. As long as we keep it affordable and accessible, we'll continue to have success."

And he wasn't talking wins and losses. The Miracle are judged by the atmosphere they create for fans, not by the type of product they put on the field.

"If you're not having fun," Seymour said, explaining the simplicity of the Miracle's motto, "you're just not doing the right thing."

Fun is good. Even better, sometimes, than winning.