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June 4, 2004 Greg Luzinski deserves better. He belongs on the golf course with other retired ballplayers, not standing here amidst hundreds of screaming kids and their screaming parents, shilling bad barbecued ribs and dodging angry mothers carrying trays overflowing with food for their families. “Excuse me,” he says in a sincere tone to one of these mothers, even though she bumped into him. Luzinski is standing at the entrance to Bull’s Barbecue, the restaurant opened in his honor at Citizen Bank Park (aka “The Cit”), the new home of the Philadelphia Phillies. Nicknamed “The Bull,” he played the bulk (emphasis on “bulk;” his playing weight purportedly approached 250 lbs.) of his 15-year major-league career in Philly. His size and power (he clubbed 307 career home runs) made him a fan favorite in the City of Brotherly Love. But on this night in the Phils’ new digs patrons seem more interested in meals and merchandise than a trip down memory lane. For every fan that recognizes Luzinski and asks for an autograph—his stated purpose at the restaurant—at least two, like the woman with the tray, see him simply as another—albeit big—obstacle on their way to the condiment stand. And there you have it. Despite architects’ attempts to build these parks in the image of the great ballparks of the first half of the 20th century—places like Shibe Park in Philly, Forbes Field in Pittsburgh and Crosley Field in Cincinnati, for example—these new stadiums are about as old-school as Eminem, and just as authentic. Instead of creating true urban ballparks that are intrinsically linked to their surrounding communities (if the sound of the subway outside Yankee Stadium or the El outside Wrigley in Chicago is familiar to you, you know what I mean), these newer parks are usually surrounded by sprawling parking lots—so suburban families don’t have to actually walk the city streets on their way to the game. And atmosphere? There’s not much for the hardcore baseball fan. Forget the Friendly Confines, the fans gathered on Waveland waiting for the odd home run ball. Think your local mall, with the same kind of “family-oriented” fun, minus the multiplex. In an effort to combat flagging attendance, the movement to the “new retro” parks (oxymoron intended) began in Baltimore with Camden Yards, which opened in 1992. It carried on throughout the 1990s and early 2000s with new ball parks opening in Cleveland, San Francisco, Texas, Detroit, Milwaukee, Pittsburgh and Cincinnati. This summer saw the opening of “The Cit” and Petco Park in San Diego. At their essence, all of these parks look remarkably the same. They feature numerous souvenir shops, both baseball- and non-baseball-oriented activities (games, entertainment) “for the kids,” and the ubiquitous food court (dubbed Ashburn Alley at The Cit, for another former Phillies’ outfielder, Richie Ashburn). Pittsburgh’s new park—PNC—even has an Outback Steakhouse behind the left field bleachers. “Hey, dad, I’ll meet you by JC Penney’s during the seventh inning stretch.” It gets worse. Camden Yards includes a restaurant called “Boog’s Barbecue,” named for Boog Powell, a former Orioles first baseman who played in the 1960s and 1970s and was known for his sizable waistline. Sound familiar? In most cases, these new ballparks replace charmless multipurpose stadiums (in Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, Philadelphia, San Francisco and San Diego) or crumbling excuses for fields (in Cleveland, Milwaukee, Baltimore and Texas). Frankly, none of these markets were losing baseball cathedrals to progress. No, in most cases—in Pittsburgh, Philadelphia and Cincinnati, anyway—that had happened decades ago, when the classic originals were replaced by the precursors to these poor imitations. For a few hundred million dollars, these cities have slurped down the ice-cold Kool Aid served by the billionaire owners of major league baseball teams and built monuments to excess. The party line is that these new parks capture the glorious baseball history of their respective communities, complete with natural grass fields and outfield walls that twist and turn more than the Autobahn. But, in reality, it’s all about revenue streams. Luxury suites, souvenir stands and high-priced restaurants succeed at lining owners’ pockets, but they certainly fail at creating a relationship between younger fans and the grand traditions of America’s favorite pastime. Amenities such as The Cit’s grand entrance plazas, 62 restrooms and mock Liberty Bell that “rings” after every Phillies’ homer aren’t designed for baseball purists. They were created to appeal to baseball’s version of the Sunday Shopper—mom with her tray of food and a passel of kids begging for all the over-priced snacks and trinkets they can get. Fully a third of the seats at The Cit were left vacant for most of a recent Phils’ game against the Padres in late May; the Ashburn Alley food court was packed from first pitch to last licks. And The Cit is not alone. Few of these parks— Pittsburgh’s PNC (Outback aside) and San Francisco’s SBC may be the notable exceptions— achieve their stated purpose: recreating the old ballpark experience. Most, like San Diego and Detroit, merely serve as anchors to urban renewal projects or, like Texas, to commercial developments that floundered during the most recent recession. Meanwhile, the typical fan remains as fickle as ever. After experiencing marked attendance increases in the years after their new parks opened, teams in Baltimore, Cleveland, Milwaukee, Detroit and Pittsburgh have seen plenty of empty seats in recent seasons. The novelty has worn off. Perhaps there’s a new mall opening nearby. Even so, it’s not a seventh-inning stretch to predict that this “new retro” trend will continue. There’s talk in Boston and in New York of replacing Fenway Park and Yankee Stadium, respectively. Could Wrigley be far behind? By the time that happens, perhaps the cities that replaced their more cost-effective (albeit ugly) multipurpose stadiums in the 1990s and early 2000s will realize the error of their ways. Maybe by then taxpayers will see that the dollars they spent are as gone as one of Luzinski’s home runs— and, come to think of it, as the ballpark he hit them in. ------------ About the author: Brian P. Dunleavy is a freelance sportswriter, who is always looking for a new game to write about. He lives in New York with his wife and two dogs. Email: bpdunleavy@yahoo.com Tell a friend about this site! ------------ |
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