It wasn’t quite the same as buying from the ballpark, but the mission was clear. I scanned the racks and there it was—forest green, stitched logo, the apple grinning like he knew I’d be coming all along. A ridiculous emblem and yet somehow dignified, like a colonial fever dream crossed with produce aisle rebellion. I didn’t hesitate. Into my hands, onto my head, into the collection. Some hats you wear, others you tell stories about. This one’s both.
Even without a game, Parkview Field left an impression. It’s the kind of stadium that doesn’t just host a team—it holds a city together. The TinCaps are Fort Wayne’s summer soundtrack, a High-A affiliate of the San Diego Padres with a name that comes straight out of American folklore. Johnny Appleseed—the man, the myth, the tin-hatted wanderer—is buried just up the road, and whether or not he ever actually wore a pot on his head, Fort Wayne’s embraced the image with full-hearted conviction. And why not? Baseball has always made space for myth.
Before they were the TinCaps, the team was called the Wizards, playing in a lesser stadium with a lesser name. But everything changed in 2009 when Parkview Field opened as part of a downtown revitalization push. A new stadium, a new brand, and suddenly the team mattered more than ever. The TinCaps consistently rank among the best minor league experiences in the country. They play with the energy of kids still chasing dreams, and the crowd—parents, retirees, college students, die-hards—meets them with full-throated loyalty.
I wish I’d seen them play. I wish I’d heard the crack of the bat echo down the concourse and watched a mascot with fruit for a head dance on the dugout. But there’s always next time. The cap is mine now, and with it comes the promise of return. I’ll be back—because some stadiums deserve a second visit, and some teams, even the ones with the silliest hats, remind you why you fell in love with baseball in the first place.