SF Canaries change to Fighting Pheasants creates controversy

You have chosen wisely, Gary Weckwerth.

I would hate to think of the riotous fires and destruction that would have happened to you and your beloved stadium had you not made good on your promises to the masses of Canaries fanatics across the Sioux Empire.

Perhaps I should back up.

Like any good coup, Weckwerth and his accomplices at Sioux Falls Sports, LLC, did what any good group of militant leaders would do after they conquered new territory. They changed the flag.

After buying the Sioux Falls Canaries from Sioux Falls Canaries Professional Baseball, LLC, the immediate change from the Canaries to the Fighting Pheasants was a predictable move.

But one thing you never do—never do—when overthrowing a government is disregard its people.

As many are aware, the Sioux Falls Canaries began a tattoo campaign in 2004 that allowed anyone with a Canary baseball-themed tattoo free season tickets. For life.   
Weckwerth almost had a mob on his hands when he initially said the Fighting Pheasants wouldn't be honoring any Canaries tattoos. And why should they? That would be like letting George Washington prance around a Revolutionary War battlefield eating fish and chips with tea and crumpets in nothing but his knickers.

However, Weckwerth seems to be the type who weighs his consequences. Can you imagine the hysteria in this town if the three or four lonely men who actually got Canary tattoos went and protested this whole Pheasants thing? It would be ruckus in the streets. Fire and brimstone. Pillaging of innocent farm animals and all sorts of general disorder.
What about those people who have pictures of small Midwestern sort-of-pro baseball players on their nightstands instead of pictures of their wives and children? What about those people, Gary Weckwerth? What about them?

The Argus Leader ran a story about Eric Ronke, a 30-year-old law student who has a blue and yellow "SF" tattoo on his right bicep.

While I might have questions as to why a 30-year-old law student would initial Sioux Falls Canaries emblems into his body, that is not the point. What is the point, beside the fact that he probably still lives with his parents, is that he deserves some respect for the sacrifices he's made for baseball.

Before Ronke's dissent, Sioux Falls Sports, LLC management informed tattooed fans "that the new ownership group will not honor the agreement, and now their body art is outdated." Ronke, an apparent lawman and vocal proponent for the Canaries, stood up to Weckwerth.

"Eric called me, and once he and I started talking, I got to know him and why he did this, and I got a glimpse into the lives of the fans who did this," the Argus quoted Weckwerth. "That really touched me. They pulled on my heartstrings a little bit, and I wanted to be sensitive to that."

Thanks to Ronke's essential work, the lifetime season pass tattoo rule was proudly reinstated, though some feel that he only gave into the temptation of free tickets.

On the Argus Leader's Web site were angry comments, assumingly tattooed Canary diehards as well, reminding both Ronke and Weckwerth that the only bird they would fly—besides angry middle fingers—was the chirpy little finch the zealous fans have come to know and love.

Readers' comments berated Ronke, and read things like, "A true Canaries fan wouldn't just roll over and let Mr. Weckwerth push you around. The name change wasn't a small thing, it was a strong personal attack on the very fabric of Sioux Falls baseball…He basically has given you exactly what you already deserved, your tickets, but what else? Once a Canary, always a Canary! Go Birds!"

Good Lord.

A strong attack.

A personal attack.

An attack on the very social fabric of Sioux Falls!

Egad, man.

Now, me, I've lived around Sioux Falls my entire life, and I think I've maybe been to two—maybe three—Canaries games in my 22 years of existence, and I can't say that at any of those moments did I feel any sort of deep-rooted connection to the landscape of the Great Plains or its people.

Then again, I just might not be as sensitive to the pride of having a team to call your own or becoming completely in tune to a sense of commitment to a team that exemplifies what it means to be a Sioux Fallsian.

Of course, it could also just be that I'm smart enough not to get a tattoo of an unthreatening yellow bird on my arm instead of buying tickets that only cost five dollars a game.