Baseball Parks
I have visited quite a few ballparks on my trip...
The BOB in Phoenix is walking distance from the downtown Phoenix hostel. Just prior to two night games, I watch the roof of the air conditioned dome retract. Phoenix fans enjoyed bingo cards, issued as we entered. We cross off squares when the corresponding scoring play happens on the field. Winners get free binoculars and the Arizona crowd seems to enjoy the bingo as much as the games. The visiting Minnesota Twins win both nights.
A published sabremetrician sits next to me in Denver, where hapless teams play. He quotes Billy Beane, the Oakland General Manager. I wonder if this man in the next seat works for Oakland, and he denys it. We fans, being smarter than management, decide Colorado will never win in this mile high stadium until they get the players to score ten runs per game.
The wind shifts and it becomes cold. I wish I had brought my jacket. Then it becomes sunny, and I wish I had sunscreen. We have a rain delay, and young fans play hide and seek, in nooks and crannies behind steel girders. After the game, it rains hard. The hostel is not within walking distance, but I walk it anyway, and meet friendly, wet people along the way.
I see the Twins play. When I used to watch Twins games in the 1990's, I thought it made no sense to build a new outdoor stadium, since the dome was only 15 years old. Now, the Metrodome in Minneapolis is almost 25 years old and Minnesotans are still saying they need an outdoor stadium. I am given a card and asked to pledge my support to this long-standing cause. I do not support the cause, because Minnesotans need a rectractable dome, like in Phoenix, not an outdoor stadium. Otherwise, fans will suffer through the Spring and Fall, and every stormy Summer day.
Minnesota now has a good team, every year, in contrast to the teams I watched in the late 1990's. They deserve a retractable dome.
The St. Louis Cardinals also do well each year, and this year are well in first place. No tickets are available, so we buy SRO seats. Stealth Bombers thunder past just before the game. "God Bless America" is sung. This is a patriotic place.
We sit in prime seats, just behind home plate, until ticket owners arrive. Then, we go up one floor. Only half the seats fill, and we have a row to ourselves. St. Louis easily beats the Colorado Rockies. As we leave, Stealth bombers fly by. Then, they fly by again, again, and again. I assume Osama has been captured or that peace-time has has been declared, or that bombers are no longer needed in Iraq. The planes thunder past again. Perhaps, war has been declared on Iowa.
The Salem Avalanche, the Astros AA team in Virginia tries just as hard or harder than any major league team. Except for an error in the first inning, the quality of play is good. A band plays before the game. Mascots fly everywhere. Beer is $2. A cotton candy vendor, new to his middle school or high school first job, stands in front of us and talks for nine innings with other other vendors, and to my knowledge sells nothing. All in all, the night is very entertaining.
As we drive along I-95, we see signs asking that we "report suspicious activity", which I assume is because of recent terrorist bombings in London. When arrive at the Motel 6 nearest RFK Stadium, a security person from Wackenbush looks over our drivers licenses before issuing us a parking pass. Then, we enter the lobby where our licenses are photocopied, and a full background check on both of us is performed, we assume. This process takes thirty minutes or so. This would not be problematic except that we would have stopped for a break earlier had we known this would check in process take so long. We are relieved when our motel room's bathroom finally becomes available to us.
We drive to the park and ride a few hours later, and arrive at RFK two hours before the game. Doors open in thirty minutes, we are told, and until then, the nearest bathroom is under the bridge. We walk under the bridge, then walk another three blocks to outhouses. We have already walked several blocks from the subway station. John tells me he is never coming back to a baseball game at RFK. I decide that a goal of terrorists must be to make Americans wear black pants.
The sign outside the stadium says no bottles, no coolers, no backpacks, no this, no that. It is like signs in front of other stadiums, except this sign also says "no food". I am apprehensive about entering, since we have a sack full of peanuts, licorice and trail mix. Thankfully, the security people and ticket takers use common sense and ignore the bag that I carry in.
Our seats are way up. The stairs are steep and there are no rails. We are in a section that was painted bright yellow forty years ago. It is a hot night. The stadium surrounds the field so the there is little or no breeze. The game is against the last place Rockies. The first place Washington Nationals have the media buzz, but it is not clear from watching whether the Nationals are the better team. There is a good crowd enjoying this not so great game.
Philadelphia plays the Dodgers in an afternoon "Businessman's Special". Summer students sit in front of us, one playing with his Game Boy Advance instead of watching the 1-0 loss. Two days later, Pittsburgh plays the Rockies in a nearly sold out game.
Both parks are modern. The scoreboards are nice. The escalators are nice. The teams play reasonably well. The Philadelphia Phanatic mascot, recognized as the best one, seems to have a close relative in Pittsburgh. At Philadelphia, we notice the view of the city. In Pittsburgh, we see Appalachians. Pittsburghers barbeque and tailgate before the game. Baseball in Pennsylvania is pleasant.
We go to Cooperstown and see the Baseball Hall of Fame. 11-year old boys who run with their eyes closed inhabit the place. I find the baseball representing the no-hitter that I watched in 1994. I look at the plaques and the 1909 Honus Wagner card. It may have been unusually busy while we were there. If not, they need to move to the countryside, expand and offer more activities for the kids.
I will see more baseball on the way back and it is amazing how much baseball I hear over the XM satellite in my car. Baseball as the national pastime is a nice turn of a phrase, as baseball definitely passes the time.
The BOB in Phoenix is walking distance from the downtown Phoenix hostel. Just prior to two night games, I watch the roof of the air conditioned dome retract. Phoenix fans enjoyed bingo cards, issued as we entered. We cross off squares when the corresponding scoring play happens on the field. Winners get free binoculars and the Arizona crowd seems to enjoy the bingo as much as the games. The visiting Minnesota Twins win both nights.
A published sabremetrician sits next to me in Denver, where hapless teams play. He quotes Billy Beane, the Oakland General Manager. I wonder if this man in the next seat works for Oakland, and he denys it. We fans, being smarter than management, decide Colorado will never win in this mile high stadium until they get the players to score ten runs per game.
The wind shifts and it becomes cold. I wish I had brought my jacket. Then it becomes sunny, and I wish I had sunscreen. We have a rain delay, and young fans play hide and seek, in nooks and crannies behind steel girders. After the game, it rains hard. The hostel is not within walking distance, but I walk it anyway, and meet friendly, wet people along the way.
I see the Twins play. When I used to watch Twins games in the 1990's, I thought it made no sense to build a new outdoor stadium, since the dome was only 15 years old. Now, the Metrodome in Minneapolis is almost 25 years old and Minnesotans are still saying they need an outdoor stadium. I am given a card and asked to pledge my support to this long-standing cause. I do not support the cause, because Minnesotans need a rectractable dome, like in Phoenix, not an outdoor stadium. Otherwise, fans will suffer through the Spring and Fall, and every stormy Summer day.
Minnesota now has a good team, every year, in contrast to the teams I watched in the late 1990's. They deserve a retractable dome.
The St. Louis Cardinals also do well each year, and this year are well in first place. No tickets are available, so we buy SRO seats. Stealth Bombers thunder past just before the game. "God Bless America" is sung. This is a patriotic place.
We sit in prime seats, just behind home plate, until ticket owners arrive. Then, we go up one floor. Only half the seats fill, and we have a row to ourselves. St. Louis easily beats the Colorado Rockies. As we leave, Stealth bombers fly by. Then, they fly by again, again, and again. I assume Osama has been captured or that peace-time has has been declared, or that bombers are no longer needed in Iraq. The planes thunder past again. Perhaps, war has been declared on Iowa.
The Salem Avalanche, the Astros AA team in Virginia tries just as hard or harder than any major league team. Except for an error in the first inning, the quality of play is good. A band plays before the game. Mascots fly everywhere. Beer is $2. A cotton candy vendor, new to his middle school or high school first job, stands in front of us and talks for nine innings with other other vendors, and to my knowledge sells nothing. All in all, the night is very entertaining.
As we drive along I-95, we see signs asking that we "report suspicious activity", which I assume is because of recent terrorist bombings in London. When arrive at the Motel 6 nearest RFK Stadium, a security person from Wackenbush looks over our drivers licenses before issuing us a parking pass. Then, we enter the lobby where our licenses are photocopied, and a full background check on both of us is performed, we assume. This process takes thirty minutes or so. This would not be problematic except that we would have stopped for a break earlier had we known this would check in process take so long. We are relieved when our motel room's bathroom finally becomes available to us.
We drive to the park and ride a few hours later, and arrive at RFK two hours before the game. Doors open in thirty minutes, we are told, and until then, the nearest bathroom is under the bridge. We walk under the bridge, then walk another three blocks to outhouses. We have already walked several blocks from the subway station. John tells me he is never coming back to a baseball game at RFK. I decide that a goal of terrorists must be to make Americans wear black pants.
The sign outside the stadium says no bottles, no coolers, no backpacks, no this, no that. It is like signs in front of other stadiums, except this sign also says "no food". I am apprehensive about entering, since we have a sack full of peanuts, licorice and trail mix. Thankfully, the security people and ticket takers use common sense and ignore the bag that I carry in.
Our seats are way up. The stairs are steep and there are no rails. We are in a section that was painted bright yellow forty years ago. It is a hot night. The stadium surrounds the field so the there is little or no breeze. The game is against the last place Rockies. The first place Washington Nationals have the media buzz, but it is not clear from watching whether the Nationals are the better team. There is a good crowd enjoying this not so great game.
Philadelphia plays the Dodgers in an afternoon "Businessman's Special". Summer students sit in front of us, one playing with his Game Boy Advance instead of watching the 1-0 loss. Two days later, Pittsburgh plays the Rockies in a nearly sold out game.
Both parks are modern. The scoreboards are nice. The escalators are nice. The teams play reasonably well. The Philadelphia Phanatic mascot, recognized as the best one, seems to have a close relative in Pittsburgh. At Philadelphia, we notice the view of the city. In Pittsburgh, we see Appalachians. Pittsburghers barbeque and tailgate before the game. Baseball in Pennsylvania is pleasant.
We go to Cooperstown and see the Baseball Hall of Fame. 11-year old boys who run with their eyes closed inhabit the place. I find the baseball representing the no-hitter that I watched in 1994. I look at the plaques and the 1909 Honus Wagner card. It may have been unusually busy while we were there. If not, they need to move to the countryside, expand and offer more activities for the kids.
I will see more baseball on the way back and it is amazing how much baseball I hear over the XM satellite in my car. Baseball as the national pastime is a nice turn of a phrase, as baseball definitely passes the time.
posted by David Rasmussen at 6:15 PM
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