STOCKTON -- "Is Barry Bonds going to be there?"

Geez, the man is never far from the conversation, is he? Strap your 6-year-old son into his car seat, equip him with a glove and ball and tell him that the day's purpose is to experience baseball at its purest, and naturally ol' No. 25 crosses his mind.

Guess that makes sense. The 6-year-old mind probably can't define pure, much less decipher when he is or is not witnessing it. So Bonds and Roger Clemens and the rest of their multimillionaire, performance-enhancing, drug-taking peers may still create a sense of wonderment (and if that doesn't inspire a parent to do some talking, shame on us).

But the real wonderment of the game -- its joy, verve, steadiness and failings -- reside elsewhere, at baseball's grass roots. So no, thank goodness, Barry Bonds wasn't going to be there. No high-def scoreboard, either. No loud, obnoxious music before every hitter. No vendors blocking the view. No cynics asking, "How much does that guy make?" after every weak out.

See, on this Wednesday morning at Banner Island Ballpark -- did we mention, no corporate sponsor for the stadium? -- the Single-A Stockton Ports and Visalia Oaks offered up something much simpler. It was a 6-0 Oaks victory in a California League game, and the only thing that really stood out was the 10:30 a.m. starting time that takes place on Baseball is Education Day.

That's just the point, though. This could've been any minor-league game in any town on any

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morning, because nothing about the minors ever really stands out. It is the local mom-and-pop store located in the middle of nowhere.

And you know what? Such a place is a pretty good thing.

"For me, what's so appealing about it is the game itself and the crowd involvement," an elderly gentleman named Bob says. "Most of the crowd feels like a part of the game. In the major leagues, everything they do is for money and revenue. Here, it's definitely designed for the young."

Bob's contribution to the proceedings proves that. The free daily scorecard comes with a BINGO card inside it, and it's filled out according to what happens during each of the home team's at-bats. Bob presides over it as "sort of a walking scoreboard," and here's guessing that he wouldn't trade it to operate a daily dot race.

As for its practicality, BINGO is a great way to get that 6-year-old to pay attention to what's happening in front of him. He might not be sure what a double is, but when it translates to O-62, he will.

Still, asking any tike to sit through nine innings is like asking Clemens to be honest. But in that regard, the minor leagues are perfect, too. You can buy two tickets, park, and purchase two hot-dog meals and still have plenty left to purchase tickets for your youngster to hit off a batting machine (or in this case, a batting tee). At the House that Bonds Built, for the same cash outlay you'd still be short for parking.

Guess that makes sense, too. Major League Baseball is a corporate power, and the cost to partake in its business is reflective of it. Not that it deserves an abundance of criticism, because nobody is complaining. MLB likely will set an attendance record for the third straight year.

Yet, there is a difference between choosing the county fair over a Broadway play -- even if a Broadway actor does occasionally appear, as A's reliever Keith Foulke, working on a rehab assignment, did Wednesday -- and once you're at the fair, that difference doesn't seem to matter.

"The thing about minor-league ball, especially at this level," says Zach Sharkey, the Ports' director of corporate sales, "is that it really has a community feel."

It sure does. Sharkey has spent his afternoon running around in a straw hat with a microphone, serving as a sort-of one-man entertainment venue between innings. It is the exact kind of thing you would not see at a major-league game, but one that will remain in the memory much longer than the home run Foulke served up to Visalia's Ed Easley (well, for all of us except Easley, that is).

It won't be the only thing, either. Renewing yourself with the game's fundamental joys and life's simplest pleasures tends to have a lasting impact.

"Dad, going to the baseball game was a lot of fun."

Couldn't agree more, kiddo. And Barry Bonds wasn't even there.

Contact Rick Hurd at rhurd@bayareanewsgroup.com