Category Archives: national league

National League ballparks.

loanDepot Park

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First game: July 3, 2023 (Marlins 5, Cardinals 4)

When Aaron told me he wanted to go to Miami for his 12-year-old trip, I asked for only one promise. Usually, the 12-year-old

gets to make all of the decisions, but Aaron ceded me this one: we would go to a Marlins game. (It’s not like I had to twist his arm. The kid loves his baseball.) It was especially important because the decade-old home of the Marlins had become the only holdout: the last of the current MLB ballparks where I had not been to a game.

So, for the first time since 2006 (when I made it to the new Busch Stadium), I am complete again. (Not my life. My life is already delightful and complete. But in an MLB ballpark sense.)

I was probably biased against loanDepot park (gross name) before I got there simply because of my bias against indoor ballparks. Even a quick look at my MLB rankings will reveal that I don’t like indoor ballparks or ballparks that completely enclose with a roof. Arizona features “ants playing in the bottom of giant can of Fresca.” The Astrodome smelled like mold. I’m glad the Kingdome is gone. Globe Life Field feels like a Costco.

This was the first fully-enclosed ballpark (even temporarily fully-enclosed) that I have legitimately liked on its own merits. It’s not a good ballpark for an indoor ballpark. It’s a good ballpark, period.

I wish I were more of an expert on architecture so I could articulate exactly what I found beautiful about the park. Something about those blue windows and white stone together made this into a lovely place to look at. The paths to the ballpark married the greens and teals popular in the region, and that hideous big sculpture they used to have in the outfield is now outside (and, as Aaron pointed out, losing its color to sun-related bleaching–compare these colors from 2023 to the colors of the sculpture when the ballpark opened).

What marked me most about this ballpark was how successful the windows to the outside were. Yes, I know there are windows in Arizona and Milwaukee, but there is nothing to see outside those windows. When Aaron and I approached out section between home and first–I splurged for good seats since this was me completing my full 30 MLB parks again–I looked up and was amazed.

The iconic Miami skyline displayed itself for the entire length of that window. I could look up from the game to see that wonderful set of skyscrapers. They were visible, and they were beautiful. And they lead Miami to pass that “is there any question where you are” test.

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Beyond that, the Marlins manage to celebrate baseball. The Marlins Museum had tons of cool paraphernalia from their 30 years as a franchise, and–this is critical–their two World Series trophies. If a team earns a World Series trophy, it belongs to the entire city’s fans and needs to be displayed where any fan can see it. (I’m talking to everybody, but I’m looking at you, Minnesota Twins.) I also get to remember Marlins from Conine to Johnson to Suzuki to Chisholm. Whoever put together that museum did a beautiful job.

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Better, somehow, was what might be one of the world’s largest collection of bobbleheads. I went up expecting to see Marlins bobbleheads, including the A.J. Burnett bobblehead I got on my first visit to a Marlins game in 2005. However, they went way beyond that. There are bobbleheads from all of the teams available, and since they are organized in a loosely-organized way, I got to Remember Some Guys from my beloved Mariners as well as other teams.

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I didn’t eat adventurously–had a flight home the next day–but I was impressed that they had a way to order at your seat and pick up the food. The bad news is that they didn’t do a good job of that. Aaron went to pick up some popcorn and soda we ordered, and…well, I will let him tell you what happened. His words follow.

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So the tagline for this thing was “Skip the line, not the game.” If you don’t know, my dad made up a rule called the 5th Inning treat where in the 5th inning you can get some candy or something. So for that treat, we said, “Let’s use this skip the line thing.” We didn’t expect a wait (probably) longer then the line!(Note at this time only one restaurant had skip the line not the game open) I was standing there for a while cause I didn’t want dad to miss a Disengagement Violation or something. It was an unorganized mess. People were waiting in line for the skip the line not the game, and there’s this nice woman running around asking for people’s order numbers and giving them their orders. But she DIDN’T ASK FOR CONFIRMATION! I could have just said some random joe schmoe order number and STOLEN THEIR ORDER! Thankfully I was able to get everything but all in all 5/10. The chicken was Mid and the sKiP THe LinE NoT THe gamE was TERRIBLE.

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We hit this ballpark during a really fun 2023 season for the Marlins: Luis Arraez was flirting with .400 (saw him hit a leadoff single) and the team had a rock-solid record and appeared on their way to a wild card berth. The crowd was pretty bustling. It felt like more than the 19 thousand and change that was announced. I think some of this is because the Marlins had closed the third deck. I found this a little disappointing, since I would imagine that view from the first-base side up there ranks with some of the better views in the majors. On the other hand, the third deck appears comparatively farther from the field than other third decks, so I am not positive that this would be a great place anyway. Still, I wonder if the crowds might have been eased if they had let a few people opt for cheaper seats up there.

The game was a banger, and Aaron put it really well: “This ballpark is like Miami: it’s a party.” It felt LOUD–much louder than the attendance. I can’t help but wonder what this place would sound like if it ever went deep into the fall. Even with the windows and roof open, I bet it would be quite a killer place to be.

And we did get a chance to get the roof and windows open because it was fireworks night. After the game, we watched them gradually expose us to the not-quite-as-hot-now-after-sunset Miami air. I liked that. After sunset, the view of the Miami skyline through the window was no longer there: the reflections of the lights from inside were too great for me to see the lights of the skyline. Once it was open, I could see it again. The fireworks were a little unremarkable until the final big blowup, but partying Miami denizens didn’t much care.

If you had told me going into the night that I would be ranking an indoor ballpark in my top ten, I would never had believed you. But Miami’s sense of fun and architectural beauty win the day. I’d have to say this is a really underrated place. And I say that as a guy who has now been to all the major league parks again.

BASEBALL STUFF I’VE SEEN HERE:

Yuli Gurriel has the biggest hit of the night: a 7th-inning pinch-hit two-run double that tied up the score and spoiled a great outing by Cardinals pitcher Miles Mikolas. Nick Fortes then singled to score pinch-runner Jon Berti, and the Marlins had a win.

Tanner Scott, whom I figured was due for great things when I saw him slinging 100-mile-an-hour stuff for Bowie in Akron in 2017, nails down the 8th inning for the Marlins before A.J. Puk gets the save.

Willson Contreras homers on a positive moon shot: 39-degree launch angle!

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By the way, this is that sculpture that I found so ugly. I am glad they moved it outside; it feels like it belongs there more. Aaron has pointed out that the colors have been bleached significantly since: he wants you to compare the colors in the photo above to colors in earlier times found here.

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All photos by Paul Hamann except photos of Ichiro locker, trophies, crowd, banner, BP from 3B side, crates, and sculpture by Aaron Hamann.

Citi Field

 

Citi Field, Queens, New York

First game:  June 22, 2021 (Braves 3, Mets 0)

It was 1999 when I took the 7 train to Shea Stadium. I was 29, single, and scrounging together money to travel around the country trying to conduct long-distance relationships and attend ballparks before starting a new job. I was 51 when I returned, a married dad, leaving my wonderful wife and equally-wonderful children behind for three days of solo R&R. It feels different doing this as a middle-aged man, but it’s certainly fun either way. I like the idea of having fun and heading home to my wife more than having fun and leaving behind a sort-of-but-not-really girlfriend. Man, time sure blasts on. The last time I watched a game in Queens, Ronald Acuna was in diapers. Now he’s on the field and a household name…

Some things, however, stay the same. The ballpark is still surrounded by oceans and oceans of parking lot. As a result, it’s hard to succeed at the is-there-any-question-where-this-is test. The small-but-nice Mets museum? Yes. Billy Joel singalong (10,000-plus fans singing “Piano Man” in the middle of the 8th, which sounds cool)? Wonderful–and you don’t get more Long Island than Billy Joel. And I was taken by a dilapidated muffler shop across the street, which seemed to be holding out in the middle of all of the parking lots: people were actually working in there as the fans streamed in. Loved it.

Still, there’s a little bit missing here. I got myself a nice seat with access to a swanky club behind home plate.

 I liked the super-cushy seats, but the setup was such that we were behind the press boxes and had no view of the

field: just a few of the Arthur Ashe tennis court nearby. I do admit that this was a

good place to wait out a rain-delay: probably the best way to wait out rain, as I have learned in the past. I couldn’t sit in the comfy chairs for too long: my 51-year-old self doesn’t handle red-eye flights quite as well as my 29-year-old self did, and I’d have fallen directly to sleep. But it still seems strange that someone would pay all that money to get to a ballgame and then just watch it on TV. Different strokes, I suppose. (But I can’t argue with that killer pastrami sandwich. Wow. 15 bucks and worth every penny.

I am not a huge Mets guy, but the dude checking us out at the metal detectors looked a LOT like Keith Hernandez of the 1986 World Series winners. For one thing, wearing a mustache in 2021 is way different 

from wearing one in the era of Tom Selleck. Turns out I wasn’t the only person to notice: the people in front of me told him so. He said he gets that a lot. I would imagine 

working at Citi Field is one place where that happens a ton.

I appreciated the passion of the fans for their first 3 or 4 beers. But thereafter–and especially on this night, when the team couldn’t get anything going of offense against Atlanta–it got uglier. One profane and ugly fan was letting loose a section over. (Man, have some perspective! Your team is in first place by five games! And the Yankees are having an off year!). Ushers said “sir? Sir?” to him a few times, and he stopped without leaving (it was the ninth inning anyway). I found the Mets staff to be delightful: they gave me Tylenol at the first-aid space (I headed off a red-eye headache) and the wonderfully-New-York-accented usher remembered me and asked how I was doing several times thereafter. So I got the best and the worst of this fan base.

On the whole, this was a great kickoff to a self-directed three-day NYC tourist blitz by me. I’m not sure when I will get to go back, but I’m glad I got to this one as I try to re-assemble the 30 parks again.

 

Written June 2021.

SunTrust Park

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SunTrust Park, Cobb County, Georgia

First game: August 17, 2018 (Rockies 11, Braves 5)

 

Click on any image to see a full-sized version.

After driving in from Greenville and picking up Rob at the airport, we still had a ways to go to get to SunTrust Park. That’s because the Braves no longer play in Atlanta. They fled the city for the suburbs, leaving perfectly-serviceable Turner Field behind, in 2017. It seems the half-life of a ballpark might now be only 20 years, which bugs me. I also thought about how

many Braves fans it must have bugged that the team moved 10 miles–10 miles of freeway in endlessly-terrible Atlanta traffic–outside of town. Seriously: if I lived in Forest Park or Fairburn or some other southern suburb, the move would have made it really undesirable to stay a regular customer.  If I worked downtown and lived in any county besides Cobb, it would add hours to my day to enjoy a team that is a deep part of the fabric of the city (and of many individuals who were removed from reasonably backing the team). I have heard this move associated with other kinds of White Flight from the city to the suburbs. While I won’t make any attempt to get inside the brains of those who are making these decisions, the pattern sure looks iffy.

I have no real issues with suburbs. I was raised in one. I live in one (no matter how much the good people of Vancouver, Washington might fight that they aren’t). And what I kept coming back to in my experience with SunTrust Park was all of the positives and negatives of suburban life were on display.

First, the area

where SunTrust sits is one of those manufactured sorts of areas. It’s a created space rather than one that sprung up organically, or even one that sprung up organically around a ballpark. I’m a fan of sports bars and nightlife popping up like they did around LoDo for Coors Field or SoDo for T-Mobile Park. But it feels like here they are attempting to manufacture what happens elsewhere organically. I am in no way an expert in agriculture or city planning, but I can sort of smell that difference. Sure, it was a pretty wonderful area. Rob, Matt and I played Quickword across the street from the ballpark while watching baseball. And I could see this creating a destination. 

Outside the ballpark, the Braves had tons of cool statues and exhibits like they had outside of Turner Field (indeed, many of them were simply moved north). There’s Bobby Cox!  There’s Phil Neikro throwing a knuckler!  The ballpark starts to develop a little bit of a destination feel, and I bet for big games and playoffs, it’s a heck of a spot.

Hawkers along the way, also, including the aptly-named Big Ass Fans, which offered free cooling of fans on this hot August evening.

But, for a destination, this felt the nowhereness of the suburbs. The view past the outfield is lovely: lots of skyscrapers and some neon. But where was I? Those suburban office edifices could have been anywhere at all in the US, or possibly other countries. I like my CN Tower in Toronto and my Gateway Arch in St. Louis. I like my prairies in Kansas City and my mountains in Colorado, my rivers in Pittsburgh and Cincinnati and my bay in San Francisco. Here–what was that, exactly?

Inside, the Braves did one fantastic thing right.  The Braves’ Hall of Fame along the concourse was everything it should be. It was set up in a space everyone could go to, and had both cool stuff to look at and even places to stop and go a little deep into an exhibit. I have made fun of the silliness of Sparky Anderson’s shoes in the past, but I spent a good deal of time looking at the knee brace Sid Bream wore when he scored the winning run in the 1992 NLCS. That was presented lovingly and appropriately as a part of that iconic moment. In short, the photos and celebrations were right on target. That was a key point where I knew where I was. So was the Waffle House concession.

The place was gleaming and new, and that’s always fun. But it also suffered from some overkill.  SunTrust Park is, to my knowledge, the only ballpark in America with a zip line.  A: why?  B: if you’re going to have a zip line at a ballpark, why have it

tucked back behind the center field batters’ eye? Why not set it up really high, in a spot where one could watch the game while you gained velocity? I would do that.  In fact, I’d try to score the game while zip lining.  That might be a first, in fact.

Matt and Rob and I had a fine time at a good game: the Rockies and Braves were deep into a pennant race, and had hot young stars on the mound (Kyle Freeland and Sean Newcomb).  Fellow Coloradan Matt has held onto his Rockies’ allegiance where I have not, so he cheered hard. It seemed to work, as the Rockies hit the Braves so hard that they wound up using a position player to pitch the ninth–a first for me (but one that was duplicated a few months later by both teams in a Mariners/Angels blowout). 

This is a reason to stick around in a blowout by the way. Fans went kind of bonkers rooting for the position player, Charlie Culberson, to get three outs. He did, only giving up one run.  It’s a little like batting practice, except it counts.

So some mixed feelings about this one. Turner Field wasn’t perfect, but at least it was somewhere. This felt like a lovely spot, but it also felt like nowhere.

BASEBALL STUFF I’VE SEEN HERE:

Kyle Freeland pitches beautifully for the Rockies, giving up only one run and striking out 9 in 6 innings.

Ian Desmond does most of the damage for Colorado, with 5 RBIs that include a bases-loadedd triple to give them a 3-1 lead in the third. 

Charlie Culberson gets two outs, but then gives up a double to Charlie Blackmon and a single to D.J. LaMahieu to give up a run and go down 11-2. The Braves plate three meaningless runs in the ninth with four singles and a walk.

Written June 2019.

Wrigley Field and Comiskey Park in One Day

Wrigley Field and Comiskey Park in One Day, Chicago, IL

April 19, 2002, afternoon:  Cubs 5, Reds 2
April 19, 2002, night:  Tigers 8, White Sox 2

When I saw I had a shot to attend baseball games in two different ballparks in the same day, I figured, hey, this is something I absolutely have to do, and if you’re reading this, you may be wondering if you can do it your own self.  Well, here’s a bit of advice.

The places you have a chance to do this (Mets/Yankees, Cubs/White Sox, Angels/Dodgers, A’s/Giants) historically have never had their teams at home at the same time.  Since the advent of interleague play, however, there are one or two weekends a year when they’re at home simultaneously, and if you pick a day when one plays an afternoon game and the other a night game, you can pull it off.

I’d highly advise you to check the weather report first, if at all possible!  April 19, 2002, the day I did the multi-stadium doubleheader, was about 40 degrees in Chicago, and dipped lower at night.  So either do your doubleheader in LA or be ready to dress in many, many layers.  I was pretty stupid–had to spend $33 on a sweatshirt at Wrigley Field.  There were people around me who were in shorts and halters!  They didn’t last long.

Have a contingency plan for rain delays or extra innings.  Which game are you willing to miss the end of or to be late to, if it comes to that?

Anyway, my April 19, while cold, provides me with a rare opportunity to compare Wrigley Field and Comiskey Park, as well as Cub fans and Sox fans.  I will now offend everyone in Chicago with the following observations:

Observation Wrigley Comiskey
Adjustments to my first impression of the ballparks: I may have been a little hard on Wrigley Field in my original review of it.  I liked it a little better the second time around.  Even though the ivy hadn’t flowered yet, making the outfield walls dingy brown, I noticed that I didn’t have a single advertisement in front of my eyes when I looked around the field.  That’s amazingly refreshing.  (But I will not adjust my ranking due to my observations of fans under “Fans” below.) When I first went to Comiskey Park in 1993, it was my favorite ballpark I’d ever been to.  Man, have I ever matured in my tastes.
Location: Trendy sports bars, but otherwise a basic neighborhood, with hardware stores and fast food…nice because it’s so mundane. I didn’t take the time to took around.  And I never will.
Scalpers: The rudest, most intrusive, aggressive scalpers I’ve ever encountered–they will not only approach you, they will ridicule you if you refuse (“Yeah, whatever, sit in the upper bowl, then.”) Scalpers at Comiskey?  You’re more likely to find scalpers at a local spelling bee.
Fans: Here’s where I get into trouble:  The fans at Wrigley do not care about baseball.  They are there to be seen.  That’s what I said–A good chunk of Cub fans at Wrigley DO NOT CARE ABOUT BASEBALL.  They mostly couldn’t tell you a single Cub besides Sammy.  This makes the Cubs’ historic lack of success irrelevant. Fans at Comiskey care about baseball because it gives them an excuse for their deep-seated anger issues.  This makes the White Sox’s historic lack of success absolutely essential to their surly personalities.
Arrival/Depature times: Cub fans arrive late and leave as soon as they realize it’s too cold. Very few White Sox fans ever show up to begin with.
How to get there: The Red Line has a stop a block from Wrigley Field.  Take the Red Line. The Red Line has a stop a block from Comiskey Park.  Take a cab.
Batting Practice: You will be treated to the screams of pre-pubescent girls scrambling for batting-practice balls that Cincinnati Reds’ players throw their way when the kids chant “Reds!  Reds!  Reds!”  (How do pre-pubescent girls perfect that ear-piercing crystal-clear insanely-high-pitched sound?) If you get a ball, get moving before the fisticuffs start. And I’m pretty sure children, at least those from the same neighborhoods as the ones below, are never taken to Comiskey by their parents.

Fifth grade girl and friends show off the ball that their intolerably piercing screams brought their way.

Fans and school:

Cub fans miss school to enjoy afternoon ballgames.

White Sox fans have never attended a school.

Fans removing shirts in windy  40-degree weather:

At Wrigley, drunken college guys remove their shirts.  At least I think they’re college guys–the guys on the right look like they’re in about junior high.  Reasonable people wonder exactly what kind of moron would even consider such an insanely stupid act.  (See below.)

At Comiskey, fans wait until the temperature drops down below 35 degrees and there’s a downpour.  Then, they remove their shirts and holler.  These fans include my cousin and his buddy–answering the question posed at Wrigley.  (See below.)

Shirtless Cub fans, probably missing their ninth-grade classes.

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Shirtless White Sox Fans--my cousin Steve (center) and his buddy. Both are elementary school teachers who sincerely hope the school board does not discover this web page. Note that I am wearing FIVE layers of clothing, including both a rain jacket and a winter jacket.

Response to routine fly ball to shallow left by the visiting team:

Cubs fans shout with incredible glee, as if they are on a loop-de-loop rollercoaster at Mardi Gras.

White Sox fans shout “COME AAAHHHNNN!!!” as if certain something disastrous is about to happen.  (They react this way regardless of the situation, actually.)

Wearing opposing colors:

Wear opposing colors–whatever you want.

Wear opposing colors, but accessorize with a flak jacket.

Result of game and fan reaction:

Who cares?  We were just here to be seen anyway.

The Sox lost, again, because they’re out to keep us miserable.

BASEBALL STUFF I SAW ON THIS DAY:

Matt Clement struck out 12 Reds.  Steve Sparks took care of the White Sox’s bats.

(Written April 2002.)
Observation Wrigley Comiskey
Adjustments to my first impression of the ballparks: I may have been a little hard on Wrigley Field in my original review of it.  I liked it a little better the second time around.  Even though the ivy hadn’t flowered yet, making the outfield walls dingy brown, I noticed that I didn’t have a single advertisement in front of my eyes when I looked around the field.  That’s amazingly refreshing.  (But I will not adjust my ranking due to my observations of fans under “Fans” below.) When I first went to Comiskey Park in 1993, it was my favorite ballpark I’d ever been to.  Man, have I ever matured in my tastes.
Location: Trendy sports bars, but otherwise a basic neighborhood, with hardware stores and fast food…nice because it’s so mundane. I didn’t take the time to took around.  And I never will.
Scalpers: The rudest, most intrusive, aggressive scalpers I’ve ever encountered–they will not only approach you, they will ridicule you if you refuse (“Yeah, whatever, sit in the upper bowl, then.”) Scalpers at Comiskey?  You’re more likely to find scalpers at a local spelling bee.
Fans: Here’s where I get into trouble:  The fans at Wrigley do not care about baseball.  They are there to be seen.  That’s what I said–A good chunk of Cub fans at Wrigley DO NOT CARE ABOUT BASEBALL.  They mostly couldn’t tell you a single Cub besides Sammy.  This makes the Cubs’ historic lack of success irrelevant. Fans at Comiskey care about baseball because it gives them an excuse for their deep-seated anger issues.  This makes the White Sox’s historic lack of success absolutely essential to their surly personalities.
Arrival/Depature times: Cub fans arrive late and leave as soon as they realize it’s too cold. Very few White Sox fans ever show up to begin with.
How to get there: The Red Line has a stop a block from Wrigley Field.  Take the Red Line. The Red Line has a stop a block from Comiskey Park.  Take a cab.
Batting Practice: You will be treated to the screams of pre-pubescent girls scrambling for batting-practice balls that Cincinnati Reds’ players throw their way when the kids chant “Reds!  Reds!  Reds!”  (How do pre-pubescent girls perfect that ear-piercing crystal-clear insanely-high-pitched sound?) If you get a ball, get moving before the fisticuffs start. And I’m pretty sure children, at least those from the same neighborhoods as the ones below, are never taken to Comiskey by their parents.

Nationals Park

Nationals Park, Washington DC

Number of games: 2
First game:  August 14, 2008 (Mets 9, Nationals 3)
Most recent game:  August 15, 2008 (Rockies 4, Nationals 3)

(Click on any image to view a larger version.)

In 2008, I spent a quick 3 nights in DC heading to a game in the new ballpark so I could still say I’d been to all the major league parks.  I’m going to fall behind in 2009, as the

confluence of hard economic times, two new ballparks in expensive New York City, and a brand-new baby will prevent me from doing baseball travel.  I’ll catch up as soon as I can, of course, but Nationals Park will be my last new one for at least a year.  Much of this trip was a repeat of the RFK Stadium trip from a couple of years earlier:  games on consecutive days with kid sister Kathleen and college buddy Tom.  An enjoyable time was had by all…in a far superior ballpark.

I would imagine it’s only a matter of time before the elegance and simplicity of the name “Nationals Park” goes the way of the corporate-influenced dodo.  But whateve

r shall the new name be?  As the economy began its massive collapse in August of 2008–gas was $4 a gallon, and we were but a few weeks away from the 2008 Market Meltdown–my kid sister and I considered the possibilities.  The best corporate names are so local that they blend in seamlessly with the local atmosphere (Coors Field and Tropicana Field, to name two).  What would we similarly associate with Washington DC?  Kath and I considered it, and thought about our government and its debt to foreign countries.  What if those countries agreed to forgive some of our debt in exchange for the naming rights to Nationals Park?  As much as I hate selling off stadium naming rights, I’d think it’d be worth it.  I therefore propose that Nationals Park, if it is to go coporate for its name, change its name to The People’s Republic of China Stadium.  Seriously.  Let’s consider that.  We could make a good dent in the debt that way.

Nationals Park has a lot of promise.  First of all,

among ballparks I’ve been to, Nationals Park has the best shot at matching Fenway Park‘s inimitable “experience approaching the ballpark” category.  The exit from the Metro at Navy Yard station deposited me onto a road closed-for-traffic that leads a couple hundred yards to the ballpark.  As of 2008, there were one or two hawkers along the way, but once the Nationals get established, we can look forward to a walk through baseball sights, sounds, and smells that will be as good as anywhere.  I’m not one who believes a ballpark is the cure-all for a community, but I do believe that there will be a fun atmosphere along that walk one day soon.

The ballpark itself felt like it

was in an ordinary DC neighborhood.  Apartments were across one street, the Anacostia River another, and a sewage treatment plant a third.  However, one is never far from views of the Capitol and other DC landmarks, especially from the upper deck on the first-base side.  The place does well to reflect DC baseball history, particularly in the walk up to the ballpark–the Washington Senators and Homestead Greys are commemorated nicely.

Of course, once inside the ballpark, I noticed something I hadn’t considered before.  When I see the Space Needle, I think “Seattle.” When I see the Gateway Arch, I think “St. Louis.”  But when I see DC’s most important landmarks (the Capitol, the Lincoln Memorial, the Washington Monument, etc.), I don’t think “Washington.”

I think “America.”  My DC-native friend Tom disagrees…those landmarks represent home to him.  But to me…well, it feels like the local is trumping the national.  I don’t know that this is bad, but when your local landmarks are, in fact, representing an entire nation, is it appropriate to claim them as local?

On top of that, since so many people in DC are government workers who are not from (and do not claim to be from) the area, Washington is at a bit more of a home-team disadvantage than other teams.  For the Mets game, especially, there seemed to be far more fans of the visitors than of the home team, although some of this is a factor of the Nationals’ horrible ballclub at the time.

These factors certainly

complicate the “is there any question where you are” test, but not by much, since Washington does the best with what it has…and sitting where one can see the US Capitol building is certainly a fine perk for the ballpark.

And make no mistake–this is a gorgeous ballpark.  Local flavor is evident in may surprising ways, from theDC-themed murals honoring past Washington Senators and other DC-area baseball heroes, to the linescore of Game 7 of the 1924 World Series behind a bar for their high-rollers (I asked to step in just for the picture, and the ushers reluctantly but kindly let me in for that purpose), to paintings of DC and other Hall-of-Famers throughout the concourse.  Nationals Park is a shrine to its city, its sport, and its nation, and it was a marvelous place to enjoy a ballgame.

In such lovely surroundings, the one slip-up sticks out a bit…the area set aside for Sony PlayStation

games that are not even baseball-related.  What the hell does Guitar Hero have to do with baseball or DC except to get a few bucks in sponsorship dough?  They even advertised an in-game  showdown…beat a Sony representative and win a prize.  Sorry…not relevant.  I could even forgive such a move if it were a baseball-related game, but Guitar Hero looks like a concession to non-baseball-lovers, who I am confident wouldn’t make it out to the ballpark in the first place.

The Nationals continue to do the Presidents’ Race, as they did at RFK Stadium, but with a wrinkle that either didn’t exist or that I didn’t notice before.  They take advantage of the situation to make fun of Theodore Roosevelt, who had never won a race that season.  While Washington, Lincoln, and Jefferson run, Roosevelt gets lost on the streets of DC,

trips and falls, and generally makes a buffoon out of himself.  I’m not against slapstick comedy, but Roosevelt was a stud.  Couldn’t we add Fillmore, Buchanan, or Van Buren and make fun of him?

The first night featured oustanding seats (yay, StubHub) in the club section with my kid sister (yet another ballpark visited with her).  I knew I’d stumbled upon really expensive seats when I saw the cushions. 

Do not underestimate the value of cushioning when you are a skinny, bony-butted man like I am. Then, the second night featured upper-level seats with Tom and his new iPhone.  He broadcast to the world that he was at the ballpark via photo.  At the time, I was trepidatious, but since then, I have since joined Tom in the Facebook world.  In fact, perhaps Tom is reading this entry on the very same iPhone.  Hi, Spoon!

They’ve done very well with Nationals Park.  If ever DC gets a team worth a damn in there, this gorgeous ballpark will create fantastic atmosphere both in and around the stadium.  I enjoyed my trip this go-round, and look forward to many return trips with family and friends.
BASEBALL STUFF I’VE SEEN THERE:

Home runs by Carlos Delgado (who ALWAYS homers when I’m in the park…), Troy Tulowitzki, and Brad Hawpe lead to two Nationals losses.

It’s all recorded on the gorgeous scoreboard (which is followed by one more photo I couldn’t fit into the text above):

(Written July 2009.)

[New] Busch Stadium

[New] Busch Stadium, St. Louis, MO

Number of games: 1
First game:  April 3, 2007 (Mets 4, Cardinals 1)

(Click on any image to see a larger version.)

It’s done!  It’s over!  At the age of 36, I have officially seen a game at all of the major league baseball stadiums.  A moment for reflection, if you will indulge me…

When I first did a big baseball tour in 1993, I had no idea I’d eventually get to all the ballparks, or even want to.  It

was just a way to spend one summer.  But eventually, as I knocked off a few ballparks a year, the goal of making it to all the ballparks started to look attainable.  By the time I voluntarily flew to Puerto Rico to go to ballgames, I realized this was becoming one of the central frivolous activities of my life.  I was all set to finish off all the ballparks in the summer of 2006, but my St. Louis-born Cardinal-fan wife wouldn’t let me go to Busch without her.  So, with the wife in tow (and as a birthday present, no less…for her!), I crossed the last ballpark off the list.  I will try to get back to some of them if my travels take me to town, and I will go to new ballparks as they open, but not a lot of people can say what I could honestly say for the length of the 2007 baseball season:

I’ve been to all the ballparks.  (Yay me.)

The newest incarnation of Busch Stadium seems to be a bit of an afterthought to the late-nineties stadium boom.  To be honest, I was a little disappointed.  On the one hand, I don’t miss the old Busch…the last of the four awful cookie-cutters going

the way of the dinosaur isn’t worth any tears.  But surely a baseball town as good as St. Louis could make a new ballpark that is worthy of its rich history.  Surely St. Louis deserves a ballpark on the level of Jacobs Field, the Ballpark in Arlington, PNC Park, or Oriole Park.  I’m afraid that hasn’t happened here.

What was strange about the ballpark is that I greatly preferred the exterior to the interior.  Not so much the edifice itself, although I did like it–it incorporated locally-appropriate arches into the facade, and was a darker red than most other ballparks–but a lot of the touches that help with the is-there-any-question-where-you-are test were on the outside when I’d like at least a few of them on the inside.  Cardinals’ Hall of Famers were represented in sculpture near home plate.  The sculptures

were a bit small–I don’t mind a larger-than-life depiction.  But when the representation of Bob Gibson fails to elicit blood-curdling terror, well, the sculptor hasn’t done his/her job.  The Mini-Me version of Gibson just doesn’t intimidate like the guy I imagine in the 1967 World Series.  They’d have done well to hire the sculptor from Cincinnati, Milwaukee, or–my absolute favorite–the guy in Detroit.

Also outside, the Cardinals track critical moments in their history via plaques on the sidewalk.  Many, I knew about…some, I did not.  I’d have liked it to not be interrupted–the plaques are only on the west and east sides of the ballpark, and are interrupted by an empty stretch along the north side.  However, I still walked the whole way, reading every plaque.  I can’t help but be saddened by the number of plaques devoted to Mark McGwire’s 1998 season.  I called my dad to watch the 61st home run together, and it was a special moment.  But ever since his

performance in front of the Congressional committee, I can’t get myself to feel the same magic about that day or that year.  Yeah, I know there’s no proof, but emotions can be messed with that way.  It’s like a memory of a wonderful weekend with an ex-girlfriend…who I later learn was possibly cheating on me.  I just can’t make the memory beautiful anymore, and that’s why those McGwire plaques make me sad now.

On the north side of the ballpark, there are two other snippets of St. Louis baseball history–one beautiful, and one just confusing.

Beautiful was the tribute to Jack Buck.  A large section of wall is dedicated to his memory.  While the photos are nice–particularly the one of him with son Joe–the sound of his voice is easily what carries the day.  Buck’s voice is instantly recognizable to anyone who has ever listened to a baseball game, and the people of New Busch take advantage of that recognition by having tapes of some of his most famous calls on continuous loop there.  In the few minutes I lingered–and his calls make any

baseball fan want to linger–I heard Bob Forsch’s no-hitter and Mark McGwire’s 60th home run.  I can’t think of a better tribute.  I think it’s because I think it’s more common to see pictures of the dead than it is to listen to their voices.  He seems so much more alive this way.  I hope that Herb Carneal gets similar treatment in Minnesota, and that when their day comes–which I hope is a very long time from now–Vin Scully and Bob Sheppard as well.

On the sidewalk, there’s a strange painting of a yellow line with the number 402.  At first, I thought it was an extension of the foul line, with a notation of how long a home run that landed there would be.  Once I poked my head into the ballpark, however, this proved impossible–the yellow line seemed to be sticking out of center field of the new Busch.  That’s when

we made our next guess…it must be the outfield wall of the old Busch.  (That guess has been confirmed by fellow ballpark traveler Frank Albanese.)  Is it center field?  Left?  Is this the spot where I saw Andy Van Slyke break his collarbone, perhaps?  Or where Ozzie Smith’s NLCS home run left the yard?  I have no way of knowing.  There’s no label, no explanation…nada.  Just a line and a number.  I’m all for understated, but the old Busch deserves better.

Once I got inside Busch, I found a ballpark that I’d say is simply functional.  None of the history that I see in moments like the plaques or the Jack Buck tribute makes it inside the ballpark.  The best ballparks can both be functional and celebrate rich histories on the inside (Philadelphia comes to mind as an excellent example).  But there’s very little of that here.

Case in point:  I came upon an out-of-town scoreboard in the pavilion area.  “Look,” my wife said,

“the Mariners are tied up with Oakland!”  Indeed, my Mariners were playing Oakland that day, and the score showed a 3-3 tie.  It seemed strange to have the out-of-town scoreboard hidden behind an ice cream vendor and some girders, but different strokes, right?

But hold the phone…this couldn’t be right.  Didn’t the M’s game start later?  And what’s Felix Hernandez, #59, doing pitching two days in a row?  Is this score from yesterday?  Wait…the Angels aren’t playing the Rangers tonight!  What’s going on?

A few paces later, I saw a Cardinals/Reds scoreboard, and I figured it out.  This had to have been the out of town scoreboard as it appeared at the end of the last game at old Busch.  Again, like the yellow line outside, it was unexplained and

uncherished…it was just sort of thrown up there at a random place.  And again, old Busch deserved better.  Why not recreate what was on the board at a key moment in Cardinal history rather than the last day of the ’05 season?  And why not let passersby know what’s happening?

A little history was going on in front of us on this, the second night of the 2007 season:  the ’06 Cardinals were given their World Series rings.  In a nice touch, they gave their Hall of Famers World Series rings as well as the actual members of the championship team.  St. Louis deifies Stan Musial in the extreme, and even if love of sports stars feels a little idolatrous to me at times, there is something undeniably touching about such the unabashed love pouring down on an elderly man so frail that he needed help to walk out to claim his ring.  The feel-good moment continued when Scott Spiezio received his ring from his dad, Ed.  They are the only

father-son combination to win a World Series with the same club.  Love of the elderly, father-son hugs…what more could you want?  It was almost enough to make me forget Scott’s comically bad 2005 Mariner campaign.  Almost.

But the best part of the game, as always, were the Cardinal fans.  While I was a little disappointed in the number of them who left early, I can forgive it…it was a bitterly cold school night and a lackluster Cardinal performance.  But there’s something exciting about being in the middle of a sea of red.  Friendly Midwesterners chatted with us about our adventures, congratulated me on completing my set of parks, and talked about the team a little bit.  A relative of my wife even got us tickets for the day…and wouldn’t let us reimburse her!  With its downtown location and packed house, Busch creates the feel I like from Fenway of a carnival atmosphere for the ballgame, where everyone is excited and anticipating a great night while walking through the city.

Even so, I can’t help but think that Busch could have done much better.  It doesn’t quite celebrate the joy and history of such a great baseball town.  It’s just not quite enough.

And I should know.  I’ve been to all of the ballparks now.

BASEBALL STUFF I’VE SEEN HERE:

Orlando Hernandez baffles the Cardinals with 7 innings of five-hit ball.  He also delivers a difference-making 2-RBI double.

Scott Rolen homers.

(Written August 2007.)

RFK Stadium

Robert F. Kennedy Stadium, Washington DC

First game:  August 16, 2006 (Nationals 9, Braves 6)
Last game:  August 17, 2006 (Braves 5, Nationals 0)

RFK Stadium is no longer in use for baseball as of the 2008 season.
(Click on any image to see a larger version.)

I never got to Montreal (although I did make it to San Juan).  When the Expos finally headed to DC, I admit I was grateful…for while my chances

of going to Quebec had fallen off severely, I had some excuses to visit my kid sister and other buddies of mine who congregate in DC.  If it were another city, I’d have considered waiting a few years until the big new ballpark was finally built, but any excuse for an American history lover and patriot like me to head to our nation’s capital and hang out with people I love…hey, I’ll take that.

The ballpark suffers from the same problems as other multi-purpose stadiums:  it’s simply not meant for baseball, and it shows.  Like Dolphin Stadium, this is especially football-oriented.  From the many football players honored on the wall of fame to the George Marshall plaque on the outside, it’s clear that the football memories do and always will dominate this place.

Even beyond this, RFK Stadium is simply not a nice place to watch a baseball game.  For starters, there is an expansive batch of first-level seats that are below the second deck.  Scoreboards and fly balls are invisible from here, so a good deal of the game is spent looking at the televisions hanging beneath the second deck…and their screens are so small that one cannot really see the ball-strike count.  Additionally, the PA system is almost unhearable back there.  During a hot sunny day game, I can see the appeal, but at night, I’d rather be under the stars. After about four innings, my kid sister (with whom, by the way, I have now enjoyed ballgames in four different major league ballparks…approaching the record set by my dad, but which will surely be eclipsed by my wife) and I moved up to the upper deck.  Highly recommended.  If you’re going

to go to RFK Stadium, there’s no need to spend a lot of money on the lower deck, particularly if you’re far back.  Save a few bucks and go up high.

Once up there, stretch out (there will be plenty of room) and look around to section 535.  There, find the white seat up surprisingly high. That’s the seat where Frank

Howard hit the longest home run in RFK Stadium history. On the way out, dodge the ushers (who are annoyingly eager to get everyone away after the game) and sit in the seat.  It’s a heck of a long way from home plate.

After a marvelous time with my kid sister, I returned area natives and longtime buddies Tom and Elizabeth.  I like hanging out with locals at the ballpark who might be able to tell me something about the team’s history.  Of course, the Nationals don’t have any history, so it’s a bit more of a challenge here. 

But my DC buddies got to tell me something about the ballpark’s political history.  Tom expressed intense dislike for the racist beliefs espoused by Calvin Griffith and George Marshall.  He talked about the efforts to build a new ballpark and the incredible political firestorm therein.  And all of this before the game began!  Once the game got going, I taught Elizabeth to score.  She caught on quickly, and her handwriting is in my book forever.

Of course, Tom and Elizabeth are two of the very few people who are from the DC area.  As a result, it’s tough to play the “regional feel” game.  However, RFK stadium does well.  The bust of RFK himself joins the monuments to Griffith and Marshall (perhaps serving as a liberal anchor situated between the two).  And rather than a Milwaukee sausage race or

the Pittsburgh pirogi race, Presidents race in RFK stadium.  Who to root for…Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, or Teddy Roosevelt?  Why not a lesser-President race between Hayes, W.H. Harrison, Arthur, and van Buren?  Or a day when all 43 race, including Cleveland twice?  I’d love that.

On the whole, there’s not a whole lot going for RFK Stadium–it’s a charmless relic, more so even than several other multipurpose stadiums of its era.  But the company can’t be beat, and I can’t wait to take in the new ballpark with them.

BASEBALL STUFF I’VE SEEN HERE:

Brian Schneider and Ryan Zimmerman hit home runs to lead a big Nationals assault on John Smoltz.

Oscar Villareal combines with three relievers on a 4-hit shutout for Atlanta.

Ryan Langerhans manages to walk four times in four at bats.  He scores twice.

PNC Park

PNC Park, Pittsburgh, PA

Number of games: 3
First game:  August 2, 2006 (Braves 3, Pirates 2)
Most recent game:  July 1, 2019 (Pirates 18, Cubs 5)

(Click to view a larger version of any image.)

First, a little tip for the baseball traveler: if you’re headed from Cincinnati through central Ohio and across to Pittsburgh on baseball-related matters,

it’s worth the time to stop in Newcomerstown, Ohio…Cy Young central.  While I would have enjoyed seeing a Cy Young museum, in some ways I liked the simplicity of what I found in Newcomerstown…a Cy memorial stone sitting on the pitcher’s mound of a miniature baseball diamond, right between a real baseball diamond and the boisterous kids splashing around in the Cy Young Pool.  Yeah, it’s not quite as good as the Jello Museum in New York, where my baseball travels once took me.  But it beats the Degenhart Paperweight Museum, which I also visited in Ohio that day.  (“Over 4,000 paperweights on display!”)  Just a couple of tips for your East Central Ohio trip planning.

I’d been looking forward to seeing a game in PNC Park since it opened.  Unlike some other ballparks, its beauty travels through the TV screen.  It appears that every seat in the park has a view of beautiful downtown Pittsburgh across the last few hundred yards of the Allegheny River.  The Roberto Clemente Bridge (which, a plaque says, won the 1928 “Most Beautiful Steel Bridge” award from the American Institute of Steel Construction…an award it would surely still win if it could run for re-election) is not only beautiful, but functional, permitting baseball lovers to park downtown and enjoy some local atmosphere on the way to the game.  Fans arriving early can

enjoy a walk along the river, then wander around the park, seeing sculptures of Honus Wagner, Willie Stargell, and Roberto Clemente on the way in.

PNC Park recognizes that beauty is not enough for a ballpark.  It takes the two next steps to achieve greatness: its beauty is local. Its gorgeous panoramas would be enough for it to pass the “is there any question where you are” test.  But the second step is a focus on local baseball history, which it does successfully through its countless sculptures.  In addition to the sculptures that surround the stadium–Honus Wagner, Willie Stargell, and Roberto Clemente, who majestically looks into the park through the center field entrance–when I visited the ballpark, there was a big tribute to Negro League baseball on the inside of the ballpark as well.  With Pittsburgh such a key part of Negro League history (the Homestead Grays and the Pittsburgh Crawfords both played there), the countless sculptures on the inside were a pleasant surprise.  I reproduce five of those here:  the three exterior sculptures, plus two former Negro Leaguers: Cool Papa Bell and Judy Johnson.



I was joined for the first of by two Pirate games by Joe and Alison, who enjoyed their second game in two nights in two states with me.  Stud fans and game-scorers, these two–and now they’re having a baby, who, based on the due

date, may have been conceived in and around (although not during…I can vouch for that much) these ballgames.  Can there be a better sign?

Thanks to Joe and Alison, I was already happy at this game, but Pirate fans made it better.  You’d think a Pirate fan at this bleak time in their history would have every reason and every right to be surly, but for the most part, we were surrounded by nice people.  Some affable (but drunk) Canadian Jason Bay fans behind us ridiculed the omnipresent (and omni-annoying) Braves fans nearby.  When the Braves fans responded by pointing out that the Pirates were an especially bad baseball team, of course, none of the Pirates fans seemed surprised.  You can’t win an insult war with someone who knows full well their team is terrible.  And fans behind us with a tiny and adorable baby kept apologizing when the baby would brush against us.  No problem, Mom and Dad…any excuse to make faces to get your baby to smile.

The second Pirate game I went to was a day game, and the fourth I saw in the midst of a dreadful heat wave that week.  Game time temperature must have been in the nineties.  For the first four innings or so, I met my first fellow member of the Network of Ballpark Collectors.  The NBC is a group that, more or less,

has two criterion for membership:  1. A desire and track record that indicates one wants to go to as many ballparks as possible.  2. (optional, but nice): A website tracking travels to said ballparks.  Well, for reasons that surely mystify the reader, I was brought into the group.  While I haven’t yet had occasion to host any NBC-ers (strangely, they don’t make it to the Pacific Northwest that often), I was pleased to meet Tim and Susan Perry at PNC Park.  They brought along a pitcher for the Frontier League team they support…the game at PNC was only a stopover on their way to a Washington Wild Things game that night.  We (surprise) talked about ballparks, and especially about the new “cookie cutter” minor league parks.  I brought up my trip to antiquated and lame-duck Greer Stadium in Nashville, and Tim remarked: “Of course, they’re moving where everyone else is moving…to a new downtown park by the river.”  Which has led me to my current stadium dilemma: do I have a philosophical problem with cookie-cutter stadiums if I like the cookie?  In any event, a shout out to Tim and Susan.  I hope I get to return the favor one day when you’re in Washington or Oregon.

I headed from Tim’s shaded row back to my expensive seat.  I bought a seat in row one behind home plate.  Of course, row one doesn’t mean the first row…it means the first row behind the Super-Duper Diamond Club or whatever it’s called.  I can handle that.  But being in the sun on this ludicrously muggy day?  That is another matter entirely.  I toughed it out…but what followed was one of the most bizarre customer service experiences in my history going to ballgames.

Apparently the Diamond Club mucky-mucks get free drinks as a part of their deal.  I can handle that.  On this particular day though, hydration was a matter of health.  So when this affable usher walked through his section shouting “Who wants water!” and then threw it…THREW it!…to the rich patrons…well, I thought that was taunting in the manner of eating a sundae in front of

the starving.  I mean…I’m SITTING here…I’m barely able to move due to the thirst…I spent fifty bucks on this seat, which is probably as high a percentage of my income as their seats are of theirs (if they didn’t get them in some corporate freebie, in which case I paid more), and not only will I not get a necessary bottle of water (which I understand…I didn’t pay for the privilege), but I will be forced to watch while it’s cavalierly thrown around just a few feet in front of me.  I don’t hold any grudges against the usher…from his perspective, he’s just doing his job and being pleasant.  In fact, when the ubiquitous Obnoxious Drunken Visiting Braves Fans in my row begged him for a water, he said he couldn’t give them one…but he returned with wet towels for their faces. I was really touched by his thoughtfulness, for which he gained absolutely nothing. Still, I was bothered by the flying water bottles.

I flagged down a passing customer service supervisor and tried to explain why I was bothered by the thrown water bottles.  I don’t think he understood my complaint.  “You could have paid to sit there,” he said, I think a bit snidely. Eventually, I think I got him to understand that it wasn’t the free water that bugged me, but the way it was tossed around in front of me. A light bulb went on. “Oh…I guess I can see where that might look like taunting on a day like today. I’ll see what I can do.” He then walked away, and I never saw him again. The usher continued to throw water through the rest of the muggy day. Down the road, I hope somebody encouraged him to be a little bit more subtle about that perk, because it seriously made me feel second-class.  Maybe I’m being hypersensitive, but a triple-digit heat index does that to my brain.

But, to PNC’s credit, they also had a fine moment of customer service as well.  The aforementioned ubiquitous visiting drunken

Braves fans?  Well, the worst offender was a mom with her family.  The son, not yet old enough to drink, decided to pelt the rich people in front of us with his water gun.  The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it?  (Of course, on this particular day, getting hit by a water gun was likely a welcome event.)  But that’s not what brought the usher (at left) into action.  The general loud boorishness of the drunken mom was detracting from my enjoyment and that of those around me.  I’m not certain every usher would have the skill and fortitude to step up and deal with such a situation, but this man did.  He handled the situation with uncommon dignity, grace, and firmness.  The hardest part of being in a job where one must deal with the public is…well, a significant minority of the public is very difficult to deal with.  And the fact that he did so–and successfully–earned him my respect.  Thank you, sir.

On the whole, the PNC Park experience was simply tremendous.  The mix of top-notch aesthetics and loads of local color make the upgrade from Three Rivers Stadium to this the best change a team has gone through this side of Cleveland.  I’d love it if the Pirates could be

competitive someday, but even if they’re not, the ballpark alone is well worth a trip.  If it’s a hot day, do me a favor and check out the Diamond Club’s ushers.  I’m curious as to whether my input was ignored.

BASEBALL STUFF I’VE SEEN HERE:

Matt Diaz homers in the first game, but the Braves’ winning run comes when Edgar Renteria’s sacrifice fly scores Willy Aybar, who had reached on Jason Bay’s dropped fly ball.

Shawn Chacon makes his Pirates debut and picks up the win for Pittsburgh in the hot day game.

A CRAZY game on a return trip in July 2019. The Pirates set the record for most runs in my presence (18) led by 3 home runs by Josh Bell–only the second player after Griffey to homer three times in my presence. Insane night surrounded by gregarious fans of both teams in the best seats in the major leagues (affordable division).

Great American Ball Park

Great American Ball Park, Cincinnati, OH

Number of games:  1
First game:  August 1, 2006 (Dodgers 10, Reds 4)

(Click on any image to view a larger version.)

Man, does I ever love me a baseball museum, especially one that is local in scope and attached to a stadium.  I love

getting prepped for a night of baseball by immersing myself in baseball history, as one is able to do in Texas and in Atlanta.  If you’re like me, when you visit Great American Ball Park, you’re going to want to get there early.  The Reds museum is worth a couple of hours of your time.

I’m not really a Reds fan, but you can’t argue against their history.  Pro baseball began in Cincinnati, after all, in 1869–and the museum accounts for pretty much all of the key moments since then.  While I was there, the highlighted exhibit focused on the World Championship team of 1919…yeah, the other team in that World Series.  How much would it suck to win a championship and always be

remembered for having the other team lose it?  I’d never really thought of that until seeing the story from the Reds’ perspective in the museum. Speaking of gamblers, the museum has a fine way of commemorating Pete Rose’s 4,256 hits:  they have 4,256 baseballs displayed against a wall…about 10-15 yards across and four stories high, behind a staircase and a glass wall.  Quite lovely.  Tributes to past ballparks, past teams, and the best moments in Reds history are there.  My favorite highlights are reproduced here:  a scorecard from Tom Browning’s perfect game, lots of statues, including this one of Sparky Anderson, the pennant from the 1981 team which was denied the postseason during the strike-interrupted year, and the Reds Hall of Fame, where they honor pretty-good-but-not-really-great players from the team’s past.  Every team should have a place to honor its Mario Sotos.

The ballpark itself, I’m afraid, doesn’t live up to the experience of the museum. I do like its location right on the river and the fact that, unlike at Riverfront Stadium (on which GABP, for all its faults, is still an improvement), one can actually see the river from the upper deck. And the history I so enjoyed in the museum appears in the ballpark proper as well,

with sculptures, murals, and even a scoreboard feature of “past Reds to wear this number.”  (Ed Armbrister got a ballpark mention this way.)  But in the final analysis, there was just too much kitsch and too many stinking amenities.  The ballpark simply tries too hard.

I mean, the notion that the ballpark looks like a steamboat from the outside is sort of cute, I guess, but is entirely unnecessary.  Seriously:  isn’t a ballpark beautiful because it is a ballpark?  Why bother trying to make it impressive looking with this sort of extra effort?  It’s like too much makeup on a beautiful woman–it leaves

me wanting less. Also, from my seat, I looked down into a spot sponsored by a furniture store where the mucky-mucks could sit on cushy furniture and not watch the game.  I wanted to mark up that leather sofa with cotton candy.  I wouldn’t go so far as to say that the baseball is secondary at GABP: it certainly beats abominations like Detroit (with its amusement park rides) and Houston (with its damn stock quotes).  Still, I felt there was too much effort to distract.  All the distraction I need is in the river, with the barges and speedboats passing by.  I didn’t need more.  Even what the ballpark did well–like have lineups displayed on the concourse, minor-league style–had flaws (like the misspelling of Wilson Betemit’s name).

Longtime friends and fantasy baseball rivals Joe and Alison joined me for the game.  The live in rural Central Ohio…about a 3-hour haul from

Cincinnati.  Alison is a lifelong Tribe fan; Joe is partial to the Nationals.  But both did me the honor of joining me for this one, and even headed across to PNC Park the next night.  Add to that the playoff ballgame in Cleveland in ’01, and you have among the league leaders in Seeing Major League Ballparks With Paul.  (First place is still my dad, but my wife is catching up fast!)  Needless to say, a fine time was had by all of us.  We headed up high into the upper deck…the better to have silly conversations without worrying about being overheard.  The topics of those silly conversations?  Well, they’re lost to history–I seem to remember trying to figure out what industries still use barges along the Ohio–but I do know I’m grateful to have friends that are willing and able to decimate a week driving all over Ohio to hang at ballgames with me, and also willing to lug me back to their place for lodging.  Appreciated as always, folks.  I’d love to return the favor for you and your family whenever you get to the West Coast.

So, in the end, the ballpark is somewhere in the middle–or a hair below it–when compared with its contemporaries.  Nonetheless, the quality hardly mattered to me.  The museum was fantastic, and the friends even better.

BASEBALL STUFF I’VE SEEN HERE:

The Dodgers win a key wildcard matchup.  Wilson Betemit channels his obvious anger at his misspelled name into a 2-run homer, and Rafael Furcal knocks in four runs.

Adam Dunn and David Ross homer for the Reds.

In the first game after the 2006 trade deadline, I see Julio Lugo make his debut for the Dodgers, and Rheal Cormier and Kyle Lohse for the Reds.

(Written August 2006.)

PETCO Park

PETCO Park, San Diego, CA

Number of games:  1
First game:  April 5, 2006 (Giants 3, Padres 1)

(Click on any image to see a larger version.)

Oh it never rains in Southern California/But it pours/Man, it pours.

The last time the San Diego Padres had been rained out at home was in April of 1998.  Somebody powerful obviously knew, however, that I was returning to

San Diego to check out the new ballpark, because on April 4, 2006, I flew over a thousand miles to check out a ballgame.  So, of course, it was inevitable that I’d head to the ballpark for the first rainout in PETCO Park history and the first in San Diego in eight years.  Unbelievable.  And to add insult to injury, I had that damn song in my head for 48 hours.  (Now I bet you will too).

Part of me was upset.  I’m from Seattle, and we picnic in the little drizzle that was coming down that day.  Sure, it’s cold.  Sure it’s a little wet.  Play ball!  They’re playing it as nearby as Los Angeles…let’s just play ball.  The Padres felt otherwise, and rescheduled the game for July.  I wasn’t going to be in San Diego in July, and when they announced that my ticket could either be redeemed for the July game or exchanged for any other Padres game that year, I figured

I was out thirty bucks.  Not so.  When I went to the very kind ticket people and told them I was from out of town, they told me that if I visited the Padres’ website, I could get a refund.  I was surprised by this…I’m not sure all teams would have such a generous policy.

I felt like Charlie Brown, with a rain cloud hanging over me.  It was a gorgeous April day in Seattle while I sat in the cold and wet on my vacation in San Diego.  There is also precedent for me traveling long distances for rained-out sporting events.  Recently, I missed out on a ballgame at Toledo’s gorgeous Fifth Third Field, and another at Camden Yards, but longer ago (and more tragically), at the end of the year I studied in England, I missed the opening day of Wimbledon. I’ll never forget that day…taking the Tube south of town, queuing up early, scoring tickets to Court One (which was to feature Lendl, Connors, and Cash), only to watch it rain all day.  The next day, I flew back home to America.  Wimbledon’s rainout policy?  I could exchange my ticket for an opening day ticket the next year.  Gosh, thanks, guys.

That’s 23 quid down the drain.

My resentment isn’t as strong in San Diego, because I did get in one of my scheduled two games.  It was an interesting moment in baseball history, as

it was the San Francisco Giants’ second game of the season, and their second game since a book came out with specific accusations regarding Barry Bonds’ steroid use.  The atmosphere was ugly.  A fan had thrown a needle-less syringe onto the field near Bonds on opening day, and the Padres responded by closing the area near left field where fans could congregate.  The booing was intense and merciless, including chants of “Cheater!  Cheater!”  (I’d have enjoyed an extension…a variation on “liar liar pants on fire.”)

PETCO Park itself felt middle-of-the-road to me.  As I see it, it simply isn’t as attractive as other ballparks of its generation.  Inside the ballpark, there are an awful lot of white beams, and even in the two-year-old ballpark, some yucky browns were starting to show through the paint.  The location didn’t really blow me away–it’s sort of near downtown, but sort of not really.  A few sports bars and hotels and stuff were starting to crop up on one side of the stadium, but it’s not exactly an interesting neighborhood.  Not yet, anyway.  There are a few nice views from the upper deck, which helps with the “only in San Diego” feel, but there’s nothing terribly special that sets PETCO apart.

Even when PETCO tries, it falls

just a hair short.  The center-field bleacher area wants to be call to mind a beach–in fact, they call it “The Beach.”  At the base of the bleachers, they’ve set down some light sand where they want people to patrol for home run balls.  But it doesn’t look or feel like a beach…it looks and feels more like a litter box, and spectators there don’t use it like a beach. Instead of chilling out, playing catch, or whatever, they’ll stand with their fingers through a chain-link fence, blocking the $8 bleacher seats behind them.  Why not reverse it?  Put the bleachers up to the fence, and put The Beach” up high behind it, add some picnic tables and sandbox toys, and let people hang out there?  Particularly mammoth home runs that clear the bleachers (unlikely in this pitchers’ paradise) could be said to “make the beach.”  How about it?

PETCO is still a fine ballpark overall, however, in spite of these negatives. 

The integration of the Western Metal Supply Company building into the ballpark is simply brilliant.  It takes Camden Yards’ integration of a warehouse and raises it to a new level…it makes the warehouse part of the ballpark.  (Check out how the corner of the building serves as the foul pole.)  The seats on top of the warehouse and on the balconies are an especially nice stuff.  PETCO also integrates an aspect from many minor-league ballparks I like…the grounds take up far more acreage than just the edifice of the stadium.  It incorporates a lot of space past center field, space which includes a walkway (K Street), a grassy hill, and a Wiffle ball field.  The grassy hill is especially nice, since it’s a casual spot to watch the game on a picnic blanket.  It’s a very large, baseball-themed open space, something I like greatly in ballparks.

On the whole, I do like PETCO Park.  It’s an improvement from old Qualcomm Stadium (which wasn’t bad for a multipurpose ballpark), but nevertheless, I don’t think it’s on the same level as the best of the most recent generation of parks.  There’s too much missing; not enough of a sense of Padres history, baseball history, or a California feel…and I don’t think it was just the rain.

BASEBALL STUFF I’VE SEEN HERE:

Barry Bonds goes 0-for-1.  He is hit by a pitch (off the massive elbow protector), walks, and reaches on an error.

Adrian Gonzalez homers for the Padres.

Matt Morris picks up the win for the Giants.

(Written April 2006.)