The Cost of Progress
Since it’s October. Let’s talk about ballparks.
If you ask me for the best, I’d give you two answers. If you’ve got a good seat, it’s Fenway. The history and tradition charm you. The concessions and bathrooms have undergone drastic renovations over the last five years. In the field boxes, you’re closer to the action than a spaced-out Manny Ramirez in left field. And last, but certainly not least, the security doesn’t have a stick up their ass trying to enforce a caste system, like other ballparks where the equivalent of the PLA guards the lower bowl.
But if you’re in one of Fenway’s 25,000 crap-tacular seats, I’d tell you to pocket your cash and visit AT&T Park, San Francisco’s diamond gem. While most modern ballparks try to build quirks and trademarks into the scheme of the ballpark. The Giants used their two biggest environmental assets and built the ballpark around it.
There’s the most obvious landmark, with the Marina situated right beyond the right field fence. In a city dominated by bridges and bays, it only makes sense to use the biggest aesthetic asset in the books.
But most neglect to talk about the atmosphere. The left coast is a laid back, casual, let’s-see-what-we-can-do-on-this-beautiful-day type of place. Are the fans passionate? Absolutely. But how many passionate fans will fill the ballpark if the team is 20 games out of first place?
AT&T Park is a great place to catch a ballgame, not to mention a few rays. The site was specifically picked because it would have some of the nicest weather in the city, unlike it’s predecessor at Candlestick
Point, which had the absolute worst. (I’ve been there to vouch that this is no myth.) AT&T is also a great place to catch the sunset. A great place to play hooky for an afternoon. And a great place to take in America’s game.
Here, unlike other newer ballparks with designed quirks, the ballpark is really the star. It fits in with the surrounding city perfectly.
The exact opposite? Citizens Bank Park in Philadelphia, which, despite the pleas of many Philly fans and The Food Network, is the worst ballpark I’ve ever been to. It makes me long for the Vet and its crummy artificial turf.
There isn’t a drastic flaw with Citizens Bank Park except for its copycat nature. It’s sterile, with absolutely no defining feature except for the same phony forced quirks that all the other new ballparks have. There’s a gigantic scoreboard, a la Jacobs Field, an open outfield concourse a la Eutaw Street in Baltimore, a bi-level bullpen, also like Camden Yards and several others. It’s really just another glorified amusement park situated in the middle of a parking lot.
And that’s what is so ironic, because the place is billed as “Not Your Typical Ballpark.” Like it, and its cousins, Great American Ballpark and Busch Stadium aren’t the exact same ballpark with the same quirks located in different areas. Though it was a dump, Veterans Stadium was a part of Philadelphia. Not because it offered anything visually pleasing, but because the rough and tough environment played right into the city’s restless and hostile fans.
Simply put, it was a shit hole, but it was a shit hole for shit holes, with commoners afraid to defy gravity and venture up into the 700 level. Most from the City of Brotherly Love are proud of the stadium’s holding cell, booing Santa Claus and throwing batteries at opposing players.
But now that’s gone, and even though Citizens Bank Park’s neighbor, Lincoln Financial Field, another venue with no redeeming quality, has a built-in modern jail cell, it doesn’t get used. You see, if you charge a fan a second mortgage for a seat, and another $24.50 for a hot dog, bag of peanuts and a watered-down Bud Light, that fan isn’t going to be as rowdy knowing he’s being screwed by “the man” in the corporate box.
And speaking of those boxes and club seats, when the companies grab an entire level of prime seating, sticking the season ticket holders further back, everybody loses.
It’s sad because this is happening everywhere. With Shea Stadium about to see the wrecking ball, the last of the cookie-cutters will be gone, and I can honestly say that I’ll miss Shea immensely. Nothing says lame like a new ballpark. And while I’ll enjoy the new bathrooms and upscale concessions, it isn’t worth it to wuss up one of the greatest fan bases in all of sports.
And if it happened in Philly, it can and will happen in New York.
After all, there’s more money to be spent on boxes and club seats there. And when that happens, Joe “Let’s Go Mets” will be sitting in the last row… closer to LaGuardia than home plate.