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,â€� he played the bulk (emphasis on “bulk;â
€� 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 centuryâ
€”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 donâ
€™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 â
€œfamily-orientedâ€� 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 Philliesâ
€™ 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.
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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
The Malling of America's Pastime
By Brian P. Dunleavy, June 4, 2004
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