Swing still the thing at the Batting Cages

New Athletic Edge owners continue Fall Ball and add new programs

Published: Wednesday, Jun 20, 2007

By JOHN JACKSON
ARGUS-COURIER SPORTS EDITOR

Michelle Law and Jon Banister began the new year with a new marriage and a new business. They have retained the popular programs, added new activities and expanded the inventory at the Athletic Edge Indoor Batting Cages.

The year isn’t half over and already it has been an eventful 2007 for Jon Banister and Michelle Law. They were married just a few days after last Christmas and three days into 2007 they took over as new owners of Petaluma’s popular Athletic Edge Batting Cages.

It is somewhat appropriate that the two began their marriage in business together at the Batting Cages. It was where they first met two years earlier. Jon was hanging around while his daughter, Sam Banister, now a member of the NCAA champion University of Arizona softball team, worked on her swing. Michelle was helping former owner Darrell Couey prepare flyers for various Athletic Edge programs as her son, Jake, was hitting.

Their marriage has proven to be a perfect partnership for their business.

Jon is a former professional rodeo cowboy, who used to jump off of horses onto flying steers or try to stay on infuriated bulls or broncos.

After Sam and later son, Jake, were born, he gave up the rodeo world so he could spend more time with his children and went to work as a manager for Viacom.

Michelle brings the business savvy to the project. She owned and managed two copy centers in Marin County for 10 years and served on the boards of the Chambers of Commerce in Mill Valley and Novato.

Despite the hard work, which Michelle knew about going in and Jon is quickly finding out about, both love their new business.

“There are so many cool people in baseball and softball in this town, and we get to deal with a lot of them,” Jon explains.

“Everybody is happy when they come in here,” adds Michelle.

“The biggest adjustment I’ve had to make is remembering that it is a business,” Jon says.

Michelle agrees that it is impossible to keep things on a strictly business level. “It is hard because we know so many of the people (who come into the Batting Cages) in a non-professional way,” she says.

The new owners say that not only will the Batting Cages remain open and the stock of baseball equipment improved, but they will also continue all the popular Athletic Edge programs and add several new programs as well.

“We will absolutely be keeping Fall Ball,” says Jon. “It is a big part of youth sports in this town and it will continue.”

Jon became hooked on softball when Sam was playing in the youth leagues and later starring at Petaluma High School. Now that his daughter has moved on, he remains devoted to the game and wants to make the Batting Cages more of a gathering point for softball as well as baseball teams and players.

“I love seeing the girls come in to hit,” he says. “There used to be a huge separation between baseball and softball, but when Sam came in to hit, we had kids stopping to watch and ask questions.”

He currently has six baseball cages and one softball cage available, and would like to figure out a way to add more softball cages.

One of the attractions of the Batting Cages is the unknown — you never know who you are going to run into. During her breaks from college, NCAA champion Sam often hangs around visiting her father. Professional baseball player Tommy Everidge helps out with the younger kids and Joey Gomes uses the Batting Cages for giving lessons during the off season.

And, of course, there are always high school and local junior college and college payers working on their swings.

A youngster serious about learning the fine art of hitting can absorb much just by watching.

For Jon and Michelle, the business is time consuming, but not all time consuming. There is still time for family.

Jon has Sam and Jake from a previous marriage, while Michelle brings three youngsters to the partnership — Brittany 13, Jake, 11 and Kaitlyn 6.

Depending on the time of the year, any or all of the kids can be found hanging around the Batting Cages where business and life meet, mingle and complement one another for the Banisters.

Copyright © 2007 Petaluma Argus-Courier
Privacy Policy | User Agreement
1304 Southpoint Blvd., P.O. Box 1091, Petaluma, CA 94953
707-762-4541

---

BARNYARD BASICS: GOMES BROTHERS, HIGH SCHOOL PLAYERS PURSUE BASEBALL DREAMS IN PETALUMA

Published on January 25, 2004

© 2004- The Press Democrat

BYLINE:    Bob Padecky PAGE: C1

COLUMN: Bob Padecky

PETALUMA

The rusted gate is locked and the reason is not readily apparent. What it appears to protect does not need protecting. A city dump might never have a more unsightly and useless collection. Behind the bird-speckled gate, on the left side of a 400-foot dirt road, are two cars, a van, a small boat, their innards gutted by nature and vandals. A bathtub-shower stall rests on its side, nudging a 50-foot long, four-foot high pile of lumber, coffee cans, Styrofoam, rags, shoes, door hinges and plastic buckets that would make a sensational, if not toxic, opening fire for Burning Man. On the right side of the potholed road, as if dropped from a helicopter, sit four 65-foot long sections of concrete decking from the Golden Gate Bridge. They now span a bog. At the end of the dirt road is the gem, the reason for the padlock, the jewel among the discard. It's a 58-year old, 60-foot tall, dirty dull-gray tin barn. ``Isn't it beautiful?'' asked Jonny Gomes of the Tampa Bay Devil Rays. Yes it is, because the barn is where American kids pursue their baseball dreams much as they did 100 years ago. The barn, which has never seen a coat of paint or been adorned with a sign, is windowless, yet part of the interior can be seen through an opening between doors. The view is not of grain or feed, the obvious choices considering the barn's structure and location. It lies in the shadow of an operating poultry feed mill. The barn is unremarkable; it could be standing in farmland anywhere in the United States and it should be containing seed or a hay or, at its most exotic, a farm animal giving birth. Instead the barn contains a batting cage. In practical function, the barn is a batting cage. ``It's not like walking into Yankee Stadium,'' said Joey Gomes, Jonny's brother who's on the Rays' Double-A roster. This is not like any batting cage anywhere, be it professional, college, high school, amusement park or Nintendo. It is a space barely large enough to fit the 60-feet, 6-inches from the rubber to the plate and it's enclosed in netting that doesn't stop batted balls as much as slow them down. When a ball is hit hard, the reverberation sounds a bit like a gunshot. At the opposite end of the batter's box is a wall of plywood, painted blue. It is where the second base bag would be if this were a ball yard. The plywood is splintering and it will disintegrate if the Gomes' brothers have anything to do with it. Line drives up the middle are base hits in real life, but here they are a form of target practice. Remembering their roots ``Our goal is to destroy the blue wall,'' said Joey Gomes, ``and then put a hole in the tin.'' For the past six weeks, as the brothers from Petaluma prepare for spring training, the barn has been their exercise yard. Nearly every night for about two hours they work out with players from Casa Grande and Petaluma high schools as two of the kids' fathers throw batting practice. Five pitching machines are on site but there's nothing like a live arm, even if it's from a 44-year old insurance claims supervisor like Ralph Gentile or a 40-year-old cable company project manager like Jon Banister. ``When you think of the big leagues,'' said Banister, who rents the barn for $400 a month, ``this is not what you think.'' Big leaguers and aspiring big leaguers don't hit in barns and give batting tips to high school kids. Either by the size of their ego or size of their skill, or sometimes both, they separate themselves. They need their work. They don't need distraction. They don't need fawning. They need a hermetically sealed environment that is heated, carpeted, with a whirlpool and a shower and music screaming aggression. The barn has none of that. Instead, the barn has Jonny and Joey Gomes. And there's nothing hermetically sealed about these guys. ``You see how your elbow is getting back there,'' said Joey Gomes, encircled by watchful eyes. ``You got to push it out there ... release ... You got to get slotted. You should be able to draw a straight line all the way down your body when you take your stance.'' Gomes notices his audience, sees them studying him hard, and knows it time for a break. ``And tomorrow we'll learn how to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches!'' Gomes said. The kids howl. Gomes howls. He and his brother may be pros, but it wasn't so long ago they were kids at Casa. ``I was on the other side of the fence, at Crushers' games, at A's games,'' said Jonny Gomes. ``I remember what it was like asking for autographs and sometimes not getting them. I'll never forget that. And I'll never forget where I came from.'' Schoolboy legends Gomes had no attitude to display when he first came to the barn, though perception is quite another thing. The Gomes are pretty much schoolboy legends in this county. Joey, 24, was an All-American at Santa Clara, a New York-Penn League All-Star in 2003 at Hudson Valley rookie league and voted his team's Player of the Year. Jonny, 23, was a community college All-American at Santa Rosa Junior College, a California League All-Star at Class-A Bakersfield in 2003 who got 15 at-bats in September for the Rays and now he is on Tampa Bay's 40-man roster when spring training begins Feb. 19. ``So when they first showed up six weeks ago,'' said Banister, ``the kids did this.'' Banister retreated two steps, leaned back and threw out his hands in a blocking motion, palms forward. ``I was watching them put holes in the wall,'' with balls that were hit, said Josh Krist, a junior second baseman from Petaluma High School. ``It was a little intimidating.'' Initially Krist lurked in the shadows. He didn't want to be the first one to jump into the batter's box. When he finally batted, Krist was content with modest expectations. ``I just wanted to make contact,'' Krist said. ``You really want to look good in front of them.'' Intimidated as the high schoolers were when the brothers swung the bat, the opposite was achieved the minute they put down the wood. `It's just a barn' ``You hear all the time about big leaguers being so big-headed and how they look down on people,'' said Samantha Banister, a junior shortstop-first baseman for Petaluma High's softball team. ``But you spend about one minute with these guys and you know they aren't like that at all. They are the farthest thing from it. I thought I knew everything about hitting until I met those guys. I've learned so much. Jonny is like my big brother.'' Asked if she is tempted to ask her big brother for his autograph, Banister's answer should be faxed to every big leaguer. ``I would hope my friendship would be enough'' of a keepsake, Banister said. The barn is a comfort zone, despite the odds. A dozen fluorescent lights glare down hard on the players. The baseballs used are from Little League, Senior League, high school and minor league levels. There is no heat source. The wind whistles through gaps big enough that you can see outside. The only entry is through a tin door that creaks on balky hinges. The only way to get to the barn is by the dirt road and past the bonfire-waiting-to-happen. ``You tell people how to get here,'' said Jonny Gomes, ``and they think they need a donkey and a plane. It's nothing fancy. What you see is what you get. It's not a lot. It's just a barn.'' It's not The Silo, The Tin, The Echo. It's not even called The Barn. It doesn't have a nickname. It's just a barn. And like all barns, people who enter it expect to get dirty. It's a place to sweat and to accomplish. Instead of a pitchfork, shovel or a rake, the tool of choice in this barn is a baseball bat. In that, Jonny and Joey Gomes and their pals are no different than farm hands. They all are using a tool in the hope of making a living. Some just make louder noises than others. You can reach Staff Columnist Bob Padecky at 521-5490 or bpadecky@pressdemocrat.com.
_____________________________________________________

_____________________________________________________