During my recent trip to Ameriquest Field for Opening Day, I had a chance to explore my eleventh Major League ballpark. Given that, I thought I’d take today’s column and run down the list of those eleven – nine active parks, two now defunct – and rank them. I’ve made multiple trips to 5 of the parks on this list, and only one to the other six; two of these latter six I attended when I was too young to really care, so my memories are somewhat spotty. Still, I’ll rank them the best I can.
11: Veterans Stadium, Philadelphia (defunct)
The only game I ever saw at Veterans Stadium was during the 2003 season; it was a legendary 13-inning affair that saw Jim Thome tie the game with a homer twice, and saw the Phillies score the winning run on a walk-off by backup catcher Todd Pratt. I remember a ton of details from that game – for example, I can tell you that Pedro started it vs. Randy Wolf, that Nomar went 6-6, that the Sox saw innings pitched by Rudy Seanez and Jason Shiell, and that Todd Walker homered twice.
I can remember all of these details because there was absolutely nothing else to pay attention to other than the game. Usually, my first time in a new ballpark, I spend a fair amount of time checking everything out, taking in the sights, walking around. There was no need at Veterans, easily the most soulless, bland ballpark I’ve ever seen (counting all little league, high school, and minor league parks I’ve been to). There is literally nothing nice I could possibly say about the park; it had no distinguishing characteristics, a horrible turf playing surface, and more ugly concrete than Boston’s City Hall. It wasn’t even near anything all that interesting; the city of Philadelphia apparently has some kind of zoning regulation that doesn’t allow brain-warpingly ugly architecture within 30 miles of the city center, so the builders stuck the park in an industrial wasteland south of the city.
The day they blew up the Vet was a great day for all of baseball.
10: Shea Stadium, New York (NL)
I can appreciate things about Shea; in a lot of ways, the park jives with my appreciation of pure kitsch. From the garishly-colored seats to the ridiculous mascot to the homerun apple, there are plenty of cheap laughs to be found, and never let it be said that I’m against cheap laughs. Still, from an objective standpoint, Shea has to rank pretty low on any list; it’s not a comfortable or cozy park, and it might be the most aesthetically dated ballpark in the game, simply screaming 70’s. The clockwork pattern of planes flying overhead is a major downside, as its its location; there are many nice parts of Queens, and they’re all very very far away from Shea.
The Mets yesterday announced their plans for a new park, to be built right next door. The plans I saw didn’t look like anything unbelievably special, but they’ll be light years ahead of the Mets current home.
9: Memorial Stadium, Baltimore (defunct)
I saw one game in Memorial Stadium, during the 1985 season, when I was about 6. I remember exactly three things about that game, and about the park.
1) There were trees in it. I found this remarkably cool at the time, and I guess I still do. I wish more parks had trees. Coors is the only one I can think of off-hand.
2) At one point, I tried to count all the fans in the stadium. I got up to around 30, then got bored.
3) Eddie Murray hit a triple. Checking baseballreference.com just now, I can say that I saw the only triple Eddie Murray hit during the 1985 season.
Given my almost non-existent memories of the park, I can’t justify putting it any higher than 8th – right at the border between the awful stadiums and the neutral ones. I might be giving it short shrift, but if you think so, write your own list.
8: Rogers Centre, Toronto
The early 90’s saw the appearance of two ballparks that cast their attention in opposite directions. While Camden Yards – with its classic, historic look – ushered in an era of retroparks, Skydome – an unabashedly futuristic ballpark, sitting at the foot of the CN Tower and featuring the world’s first fully retractable roof – was destined to represent a departure, rather than a trend-maker. The retractable roof caught on like wildfire, and there are now 5 such parks in the majors, but the latter 4 followed Camden’s lead everywhere else, seeking a retro-feel that has become the standard. Toronto’s clean, metallic feel was a novelty, and I like it more than most people, but baseball is a game so richly tied to its past that the appeal of a historically-themed park is undeniable. Bricks over steel.
Considering the scale of Skydome – a 30-story building would fit comfortably under its massive roof – the ballpark itself is surprisingly cozy. It’s possible to walk all the way around it without ever taking one’s eyes off the game, and the seating in all of the lower decks and much of the upper deck feel remarkably close to the action. It’s easy to get to, and in the middle of a booming city rather than on the outskirts of one.
The downsides, though, are weighty; its cavernous nature means that at times it feels even more empty than it actually is. Crowd sound is swallowed up at the Rogers Centre, lending it a heavy silence at times. That void is far too often filled by an almost hockey-like entertainment system, with constant between-innings chatter and stupid video-board games and features that I find oppressive. Still, the actual structural nature of the park is impressive; with the roof closed, the sheer audacity of the engineering becomes an impressive focus, and with the roof open, the CN Tower provides one of baseball’s coolest backdrops. It’s a net positive, though a small one.
7: Turner Field, Atlanta
Turner Field is actually the newest ballpark on this list, built in 1996 to host the Atlanta Olympics. While there were a lot of things about Turner I liked – the open concourses that allowed you to watch the game while walking around, especially – there were plenty of other things I wasn’t as wild about. A lot of the outfield decoration came off as garish, the scoreboard stats were way less impressive than they should have been, and there was a kind of theme-park atmosphere to it that I didn’t really care for; while a fun ballpark is important, there shouldn’t be so much there that you get distracted constantly.
I should also mention that the ballpark is absolutely huge; with a total capacity of just over 50,000, the upper deck of Turner is really a pretty impressive sight. I think I read somewhere that it’s the tallest upper deck in baseball; I guess I find that difficult to believe, having been to Yankee Stadium, but Turner’s was impressive. We actually went up to the top corner seat just to check it out, and nearly got vertigo. It’s a looong way down.
So, basically, Turner’s a hard field to really dislike, but its problem, to me, was that it tried too hard to be likable. There are too many bells and whistles, too many fun games in the concourse, not enough to focus you on the ballgame at hand. I’ve noticed this trend among the newer breed of ‘retro’ ballparks; a desire to overwhelm people with cool non-baseball stuff. I’m not wild about it.
6: Oakland Coliseum, Oakland
The Coliseum – which now goes by some other name that I haven’t bothered to learn – was, I think, a much nicer park than people give it credit for. It was easy to get to, seats were cheap, the sightlines were good, and the atmosphere was fun; Oakland fans are always more raucous than other California baseball fans. I actually recall really enjoying the park, but for very undefinable reasons that I couldn’t list out; it just had a nice, relaxed feel to it. Not overwhelmingly beautiful, but functional and unobtrusive.
5: Yankee Stadium, New York (AL)
It’s somewhat hard for me to do this, but I have to rank Yankee Stadium somewhat highly. I’m sure that if I’d had a chance to attend a game there before it was gutted and almost fully rebuilt in the early 70’s, I would have loved it; photos of the old Yankee Stadium really do evoke a cathedral-like aura. For the most part, that feeling is gone, replaced by something more akin to the Roman Coliseum: massive and intimidating, all-encompassing, almost brutal. Yet somehow, this is done in a good way; it heightens the excitement of any ballgame, makes it more of a life-and-death struggle. It’s virtually impossible to just sit back and enjoy a leisurely game at Yankee Stadium.
The downsides to the park are numerous. It’s not unbelievably easy to get to; a few subway lines run up to it, but the ride is relatively long and, on game day, completely swamped (with Yankee fans, no less). The view from beyond the CF fence is singularly unimpressive, considering that behind home plate lies the vista of New York City. The concourses are buried so completely that once you’re inside them, it’s easy to forget you’re even at a ballgame; in your seat, there are enough little distractions – noises, video explosions, games, and miscellaneous nothings to be jarring. My personal least favorite – and honestly, I’m filled with murderous rage just thinking about this – is a slide whistle noise that sounds after every foul ball. I saw a Sox Yanks game right after the Sox acquired Manny in 2001, and he had an AB in that game that saw him fouling off pitch after pitch after pitch, in true Manny style; I wanted to be riveted by his ability, but by the end I was begging him to hit the damned ball, just to stop the whistle.
The upsides, though, overwhelm the negatives. During actual gameplay, there’s something about the Stadium that focuses your attention, more so than any other park I’ve been to. The scale of the place makes any game epic. The centerfield facade is gorgeous, and monument park, though arrogant, is still a very impressive tie to the Yankee past. And as many horror stories as I’ve heard about Sox fans going into that building, I’ve personally never had much of a problem; sure, there’s banter, and heated argument, but I’ve generally found that everyone has a good time with it. Something about Yankee Stadium simply makes baseball – for the short time your there – the most important thing in the universe. What can be wrong with that?
4: Ameriquest Field, Texas
I honestly thought I’d dislike the ballpark a lot more than I did. More than any other park I’ve been to, the disconnect between how it looks from inside and how it looks on TV is huge. On TV, it looks like a dead, soulless place, with the tiered porches in center and a constant haze. From inside, though, its impressive scale becomes more intimate. We were told while there that sections of the park were built to evoke specific older ballparks; the home-run porch in right-center is an homage to Tiger Stadium, while the bunting around the top calls to mind both the Polo Grounds and old Yankee Stadium. There’s even a large, manually-operated scoreboard in left (though it wasn’t really executed all that well). The sightlines are excellent from everywhere, though the concourse is partly shut off from the playing field. There are a ton of interesting quirks inside the concourse itself that made exploring the place a lot of fun; weird staircases, tiny nooks and crannies in the seats. The visiting bullpen is the most open I’ve ever seen, ringed by seats and walkways; the players must hate it, but you can see visiting pitchers warming from nearly every angle. There’s a fantastic kids’ park in center field that still affords visitors a view of the game in progress, and there’s a genuinely fantastic baseball museum attached to the park, just off the right-centerfield concourse. The amenities here are amazingly good, but none of them serve to pull you away from the game at hand.
There are some downsides, certainly; the heat is oppressive, even in April, and I’m a little surprised that Texas didn’t follow Houston’s lead with a retractable roof for climate control. Arlington is also literally in the middle of nowhere; the ballpark itself is essentially in a void of nothingness, meaning that if you don’t have a car, you’re out of luck getting there or back. The scoreboards, especially for a newer park, are woefully inadequate; there are few statlines displayed anywhere, the pitch counter is slow and occasionally broken, and the video-boards are small and seem older than even the park itself.
Overall, though, this is a very well-planned stadium, and I think gets short shrift when the top parks in baseball are discussed. It maybe doesn’t belong in that greatest tier, but it’s up there.
3: Dodger Stadium, Los Angeles
A brief caveat: the only time I’ve been to Chavez Ravine was in 1991, when I was 12. I remember it better than I do Memorial, though the details of the game completely elude me. Still, I can speak to the overall atmosphere, which I thought was exceptional.
Dodger Stadium is probably the most open ballpark I’ve ever been to. It feels like country baseball, though you’re minutes away from the sprawl of LA; the open CF vista looks out onto the hills and mountains, giving it a remote feel. the seats were comfortable, the atmosphere relaxed. I remember loving the concessions, probably a little too much. The sightlines were all excellent, and it was one of those rare parks that felt a lot smaller than it actually was; at 12, I recall usually being overwhelmed by even Fenway, but Dodger Stadium felt manageable. As much fun as a gladiatorial atmosphere like that at Yankee Stadium can be, this kind of relaxed feel suits baseball far more, and my recollections of Dodger Stadium contain that feeling. I’d love to go back, 15 years later, and see if my perceptions would change; I tend to doubt it. Dodger Stadium is now, amazingly, the third oldest ballpark in the majors (Shea is 4th!!!), and has firmly cemented itself as a classic; when the retro parks get updated, Dodger Stadium could be the park they become modeled on, rather than Wrigley, Fenway, and Ebbets.
2: Fenway Park, Boston
I could go on forever about Fenway Park. I’ve seen more games there than I could possibly count, and I’ve seen it transformed from a relic to a vibrant living park over the last 5 years. Many things about Fenway are perfect. As a visual object, I think it’s unparalleled. It has a very open feel, and even more so since the rear CF walls were removed. Though the concourse is buried under the stands, there is a walkway around the top that allows you to watch the game as you go. The concessions have improved mightily, and I’ve still never had a better ballpark sausage (though I haven’t been to Milwaukee or Chicago, so). But mostly, there’s a reverence in the air at Fenway; when you sit there, you simply feel connected to the place, no matter how uncomfortable your seat is or what angle you have to crane your neck to see a pitch. It’s simply a naturally beautiful park, one which lends itself to blend into the game in a unique way. Fenway’s quirks – unlike those of newer parks – are innocent ones; no one said “hey let’s put a bizarre angle here” or anything. They simply developed, the natural outgrowth of limited building space, the proof that necessity is the mother of invention.
The recent upgrades walked a tightrope; how do you build additions onto a park that quite simply represents baseball of an older era? It’s to ownership’s everlasting credit that they fit almost seamlessly into the existing park. Some are impressive, like the Green Monster seats that make it almost impossible to believe there was ever anything as garish as a net up there,the opening-up of the center-field and right-center concourses that made a previously shadowy area into a vibrant open-air gathering place, or the right field roof patio that now feels wholly natural. The creation of neighborhood areas on Yawkey and Landsdowne help to connect the park’s interior to its exterior like never before. Some are more subtle; the removal of those obtrusive CF walls that cut the park off from its environs, the expansion of some of the concourses, the expansion of the scoreboard in left. The new video scoreboards are perfect, and give Fenway some of the most impressive information systems in any ballpark.
There are downsides, but most are connected to the positives. Fenway’s rapidly approaching the century mark, and it shows; the concourses are overcrowded and dank, the seats are small, uncomfortable, and at points poorly situated. The PA system is hopelessly poor. The crowd drainage remains impossibly clogged, making getting out of the park a true hassle (though this has improved tremendously in recent years). These, though, I tend to view as simply the price one pays for holding on to such an important ballpark, and such a beautiful one. The calls for a new park have dimmed considerably since renovations began, and I for one am thrilled; here’s to hoping that Fenway lasts well into its second century of existence, still the oldest and one of the most perfect ballparks there is.
1: Camden Yards, Baltimore
Speaking of perfect ballparks… Camden is the platonic ideal. I was blown away during my two games there, to the point that I want to make visits to this park on a regular basis. The park itself fits seamlessly into its neighborhood, a natural outgrowth of the area, perfectly melded into the surrounding streets, as though it was all planned from the very beginning of the city. The sightlines are perfect, and include maybe the most picturesque backdrop of any park. The entire field is set 20 feet below street level, which reduces the park’s footprint and makes entering and exiting incredibly easy, as though you’re simply taking a leisurely stroll and happen to come across a ballgame. Parts of the park are so open that it’s hard to tell where the park itself ends and the surrounding area begins. The warehouse in right center is an amazing example of blending the existing structures into the new.
The seating is perfectly set up, with good sightlines and a cozy feel, but the park’s true viewing power comes from center field: from the park in left center and center to the multitude of viewpoints from Eutaw Street, it evokes the feel of stumbling across a neighborhood game and watching through the fences. There are great little gathering spots where concessions, attractions, and baseball blend perfectly. Everything about it makes it seem as though the park itself is timeless; it’s easy to see why it has become the template for virtually every park built in the last 13 years. Camden is the gold standard for baseball now: a comfortable, modern facility that still effortlessly evokes everything anyone has ever liked about the game, from sandlot to stadium. Though there are parks that – I’ve heard – equal or better it (San Francisco’s Pac Bell/SBC/AT&T park, or Pittsburgh’s PNC), I find it hard to imagine a better place to watch a game. Camden is everything I ever wanted in a ballpark, and it was so before I ever knew what I wanted. There are no negatives to report: it is quite simply perfect.
So, that’s my list to this point. There are a ton of parks I’d still love to visit; the aforementioned SF and Pittsburgh parks, SafeCo field in Seattle, Kauffman in Kansas City. I hope to make it to some of these in coming seasons. But for now, these 11 parks are all the baseball I’ve ever experienced, from the good to the bad.
