How Times Have Changed

So baseball's opening day is here this week and the boys of summer begin their pastoral invasion of the sports season. Ahh. 'Tis fine.

The advent of the momentous season opener in New York sparked a nostalgic hoo haw about the soon-to-be-late-Yankee Stadium. In case you're not aware of the fact, the storied Yankees Stadium--the proverbial House that Ruth Built (and DiMaggio, Gerig, Mantle et al)--is enjoying its last full season before it is ceremoniously replaced by the NEW Yankee Stadium. The new Yankee Stadium, which is situated just astride of the legendary edifice, is under breathless and hurried construction. The City had planned a great deal of fuss as this storied sports venue hosts the final Yankees season and Lord knows, the media will wring much sentimental slop out of it before the final pitch is hurled off the well worn pitchers mound. This year's All Star Game will be at Yankee Stadium. When The Pope makes his New York visit this year, he will hold a mega-Mass at Yankee Stadium. People will bid obscene amounts of coin to possess a part of the old Yankee Stadium bleachers. We are a sentimental people.

Now if you know me (and if the cynicism reflected above doesn't make it apparent), you know I am NOT a Yankees fan. I'm a dyed in the wool National League girl and a solid Mets supporter. However what I do appreciate is a traditional and dare I say, a hallowed ball field. I deeply respect the traditions and lore of the famous ball parks: Comiskey Park, Wrigley Field, Fenway Park, the old Polo Grounds, Ebbets Field, Tiger Stadium, Shea Stadium. Alas these revered bookmarks of American Sporting History have evolved to adapt to the modern consumptive habits of current American culture....to the detriment of the tradition we were all spoon fed on.

Case in point: I find it appalling beyond all measure that ballparks are named for the corporate entity that underwrites them. The notion of PETCO Park, BankOne Ballpark, 3Com Park, Forbes Field, Coors Field...it just seems so patently wrong. It spoils the pristine spectacle that was defined in American culture as baseball. While I fully understand that any organization relies on corporate subsidization in order to thrive (and y'know, pay huge contracts to players), it robs us of the everyman perception that is the hallmark of the sport. Baseball was one of the first sports to incorporate an African American league of players (and to introduce us to--among many--Satchel Paige, Josh Gibson and Buck O'Neil). It was a past time accessible to all socioeconomic stratas; the bleacher seat offered you as clear a vantage point as the first base line lower level box seat.

There's a solemn history about baseball that demands respect. To cheapen a stadium with the name of a company that manufactures power tools is undermining the natural order of things. We need to honor the pioneers of the industry and sentiment should compel the leaders of industry to follow suit. Surely 3M would benefit from the halo value of a Branch Rickey Park or a Jackie Robinson Field? Or would this company, historically rooted in innovation (let's not forget that 3M started as a mining company) prefer to have their venue associated with stick-it notes and duct tape? I don't get it.

Most appalling is the upscaling of a baseball venue's culinary offerings. If I go to a highly rated eatery in Manhattan, I want to enjoy fine cuisine. I want to savour a superior wine or a Bombay Sapphire martini. But when I go to the ballpark, I want a greasy Polish dog with a slash of mustard and a plastic cup of cold beer. The new ballparks now offer the discriminating attendee sushi bars, plates of tapas and horror of horrors, a martini bar. It represents everything wrong with baseball.

The new Yankee Stadium will offer said amenities and more. What galls me most is the new stadium will feature less seats in the stadium for the everyman and more luxury boxes. If that's not the antithesis of all things baseball, I don't know what is.

Despite all those jokes about where Babe Ruth is buried, wherever he is, I'm certain he's spinning in his grave.