The Stadium

Wrigley Field, Yankee Stadium and Fenway Park make up a baseball stadium triumvirate laden with more tradition than the Roman Catholic Church. Before Wednesday, I had only seen Wrigley: a gorgeous night where we watched Kerry Wood lose a 2-1 battle with a still-potent Wade Miller from the middle of the third-base side lower-deck. I was so impressed that I just knew that the old-timey stadiums formed a niche that I could fit into nicely. Since that day, I resolved to see the other two over the next few years as not to lose the chance later in life.

While we had planned Wednesday’s New York game for several weeks, the offer of free primo tickets to the Orioles’ game the night before came as a last minute surprise. Late Tuesday afternoon, I found out that my girlfriend’s roommate’s friend’s coworker’s parents (I kid you not) couldn’t make the game and their lower level, behind-the-plate seats had trickled into my hands. You know the kind of seats I’m talking about? The ones with cushions that the usher wipes down before you sit in them? Those seats across the aisle from former NFL head coaches wearing Super Bowl rings? (picture below). Yea, those seats. So we hopped aboard the next MARC train to Camden Station to see a great game.

I’ve been to Camden Yards several times, but seeing it back to back with Yankee Stadium demonstrated a sharper contrast than I thought I could see in two baseball stadiums. Where O’s fans inexplicably sing along with John Denver’s “Thank God I’m a Country Boy,” the Yankees have their metrosexual grounds crew doing the YMCA. O’s fans scream “O’s” over the National Anthem when they get to the last stanza’s “Oh, say does that star-spangled banner…” Not in New York. They take their patriotism so seriously that the only yelling during the National Anthem is to tell the guy who forgot to remove his hat what an asshole he is.

Frankly, Yankee Stadium can’t hold a candle to the amenities and charm of Camden Yards, which gets closer to perfection than any other new stadium I’ve visited. They have turned the surrounding area into a desirable pre-game hangout by organizing the vendors and letting you bring in the cheap food from outside (I got an enormous bag of peanuts and a Coke for $4). Inside, Eutaw Street blends in with the rest of the neighborhood, giving it a similar feel to Waveland Avenue in Chicago. There is plenty of food variety, the ushers are nice and fairly sympathetic to those upgrading from their assigned seats, and there are plenty of good tickets for under $20. On this particular night, the game itself was wildly entertaining, with a near inside-the-park homerun by Eli Marrero, a game winning HR in the bottom of the 8th by Raffy Palmeiro, a Sammy Sosa homer and accompanying hop (my first in person), and a fist fight in our section. Even the transportation is a breeze, as we made it from DC to the stadium in about two hours.

Other than the fist fight, New York doesn’t go out of its way to provide any of these little extras. We stayed in the financial district, and on the train ride to the Stadium, the operators off-loaded the 4 train twice, re-loaded it once, switched us to two other trains, and held us immobile for several delays. By the time we actually made it to the game, Joe Mauer was already batting in the top of the first, and the trip from Manhattan to the South Bronx took about as long as the previous night’s trip from DC to Baltimore. In the Stadium, the ticket takers and ushers were surly, the vendors seemed bored, and the structure was very worn down. Those seated one section over from our LF middle-deck seats couldn’t see home plate because the foul poll obstructed the view of every batter. These tickets had the same face value as those luxurious treasures in Baltimore.

Yankee Stadium even seemed to miss out on the charms that made similarly aged Wrigley Field so much fun. For one, the moved-in OF walls changed it from a quirky pitchers park to one with lots of cement between the bleachers and the field. The scoreboard wasn’t even manual, but a soulless 1970s electronic one. The lauded fans were even a disappointment, as they wore lots of Bombers’ gear, but didn’t seem all that knowledgeable and didn’t even chastise me for wearing a Johan Santana jersey and Twins cap into their home. Through the first six innings, I kept thinking that if the Twins or Red Sox weren’t in town, I might be bored.

But sometime around the fifth or sixth inning, a wild fan jumped onto the field from the seats along RF, sprinted towards the infield, and slid (safely) into second before the security hauled him off in handcuffs. The crowd finally woke up, giving him a standing ovation, and never looked back. Even though the Twins built up a solid lead behind a near-dominant outing by Santana, the fans seemed to expect a late inning comeback, and I admit that it was on my mind as well. In the bottom of the 8th, Juan Rincon had trouble finding the strike zone and gave up three runs to halve to lead to 6-3. Joe Nathan came on and gave up a 320 foot foul ball to Bernie Williams that would have tied the game if it landed 15 feet to the left, but ultimately got out of the jam and won the game.

Even though the game never got that close, the buzz from the fans was electric. Their energy and undying confidence intimidated me. What first seemed dingy started to look classic, and the charm began to emerge. The mumbling PA announcer started sounding like Marlon Brando in The Godfather. Nobody filed out for the bathroom or the concessions during a tight spot. And most importantly, the fans really got behind the Yankees whenever it mattered, without being prompted by a song or a video of a monkey. Maybe it’s the Vikings fan in me, but I’m always at least a little wary of a collapse, and these people had me convinced that it was still a game at 6-0 in the 8th. Outside of the Stadium this attitude comes off as cockiness or hubris, but here, these people are in their element, and it’s one of the more impressive baseball scenes I’ve witnessed.

Ultimately, if I felt like enjoying a sunny afternoon at the ballpark to see a game with no special weight, I’d absolutely choose Camden Yards. Somebody like Seth McClung isn’t terribly exciting, and there is a lot more to enjoy at Camden than at the Stadium. But for a World Series game? I’ll buy into the aura of the pinstripes on this one. There is truly something mythical about Yankee Stadium that could make a great game legendary.


Here are pictures comparing my Camden seats to my Yankee Stadium seats.