Indianapolis Leaders Tried to Bring Major League Baseball Franchise to City

In the summer of 1985, the Indianapolis landscape was changing rapidly, and everyone, from the Mayor to local residents to farm boys in outlying areas had their own sugar-plum visions of what the future would hold. For my part, I was deep into the frenzy surrounding Pete Rose's pursuit of the all-time hit record while nourishing my fledgling baseball card obsession with every ounce of energy that my corpulent 13-year-old body could muster. By July, I was pulling my first all-nighters, cocooned in stacks of my beloved Topps, Donruss, and Fleer treasures as I planned an illustrious career in sports card prospecting. Life was sweet, and anticipation was thick in the Hoosier heartland.

One bright afternoon, after a rousing pick-up Wiffle Ball game in the side yard (I was Dave Parker that year when I wasn't Charlie Hustling around the makeshift bases), I came inside to grab something cold to drink, plopped down on the floor, and flipped on the TV. At that moment, one of our local stations was running a news teasers: "Coming up on The News at Six ...". Even today, these promotions generally prompt a quick channel change, but in mid-summer of 1985, the sights and sounds spewing from our set were absolutely mesmerizing. The screen filled with the visual of an older gentleman holding what looked to be a baseball jersey, but it wasn't any jersey that I had ever seen before. My memory tells me that it was white and looked something like the Indianpolis Indians' home uniforms, which were heavily influenced by the red, white, and blue togs of the Montreal Expos, the Indians' Major League parent club at the time. This new jersey was emblazoned across the chest with the name "Arrows".

The image on the tube certainly piqued my interest, as I was and am a memorabilia hound, and a new collecting opportunity may have been opening right before my eyes. It was the accompanying commentary, however, that really made my head spin: according to the local news anchor, Indianapolis was deep into negotiations to lure the Pittsburgh Pirates out of their Rust Belt cove and transform them into the Indianapolis Arrows, National League Baseball Team. Several hours later, my mother came to look for me because she was concerned that she hadn't seen me in quite some time. After peeling me from the ceiling, she was duly regaled with the news that I'd heard and the implications of pending Nirvana.

Needless to say, I hung on every word of the newscast that evening and learned that the Pirates, mired in last place in the National League East, were not drawing many fans and were also struggling to overcome the stigma of the ongoing drug trials involving current and former Pirate players (which, interestingly, involved the aforementioned Cobra). Indianapolis was an emerging Midwest city and hungry to capitalize on its growing popularity. Besides, Indy had successfully landed the Colts just a year or so before, so it seemed like the mechanism was in place to go out and grab an MLB franchise, as well. Even in that initial report, there was some mention of possible difficulties in finding the right venue and proximity to existing teams (Reds, Cardinals, Cubs, White Sox), but I figured it was all a formality. After all, the idea had made it to the News, and there were those beautiful, real-live Arrows Baseball Jerseys. It had to be a nearly done deal!

Over the next several days and weeks, I watched every newscast and scoured every newspaper that I could get my hands on for any mention of the Pirates-to-Indy dream scenario. Initially, there was a bit of activity, as the original story was retold, and assurances were made that "negotiations are ongoing", stadium sites were being considered, etc. As the summer waned, so did the activity on the Arrows front. By the time school started in August, Pete was within striking distance of Ty, my beloved Reds were fighting for a Division title with the Dodgers, Dave Parker was a legitimate MVP candidate, and I was battling the new-school-year jitters. Still, I maintained an open channel to receive any Arrows chatter, and the occasional bit came through, but eventually it just died out. Needless to say, the Pirates never made their way to Indy, although, in some sort of cosmic symmetry, the Indians are now the Triple-A affiliate for Pittsburgh!

EPILOGUE: As I moved through high school, college, and life, I occasionally wondered about the Arrows and even had a few discussions with other local diehards well into the Nineties. I had heard nary a word about Indianapolis as a Major League City in the last 15 years or so, and hadn't really thought about the issue for quite some time until the Pirates-Indians association fired a long-dormant synapse. A Google search revealed an Indianapolis Star article from 2005 which shed some light on the aftermath of that bright summer day in 1985. It seems that the man with the jersey(s) was most likely Art Angotti, who headed a local investors trying to bring MLB to Indy. The petty annoyances of stadium availability and existing nearby teams apparently turned out to be much more significant than was intimated at the time. The general consensus was that the Hoosier Dome couldn't house a baseball team, the local economy couldn't support the construction of a new stadium, and that other owners, particularly Marge Schott, would never allow a Major League team to live in Indy.

Indianapolis certainly doesn't need a big league team to solidify itself as one of the greatest sports towns in America, but it's fun to think about what might have been if the Arrows had moved beyond conception. In truth, every once in awhile, I still find myself scanning the local sports pages for a hint of a Hoosier MLB dream fulfilled.