UPDATES

As I mentioned in the introduction, I am not perfect.  There are times where I will publish a ranking and then, upon reflection, realize I either missed something totally or, at least, got something slightly wrong.  I won't go back and edit the original posts, but I think it's only fair to the readers that I provide updates at the bottom of each entry.  For example, in the Tropicana Field article, I realized I forgot about a pretty cool mural and that I was wrong about my guesses concerning the ground rules and those awful catwalks.  You can read all about that in that post.

Two more things.  People have asked me about "food" and "bars" and other such things at they relate to the Trop.  A good rule of thumb is, if it's not mentioned in the piece, it's probably not worth writing home about.  In most cases, every stadium has generic, run of the mill ballpark fare.  If a food item was particularly great or awful I will be sure to mention it.

Finally, you can expect a new entry every week or so.

Thanks!

#30: Tropicana Field

Tropicana Field

One Tropicana Drive

St. Petersburg, Florida 33705

Capacity:  31,042

Indoors/outdoors:  Non-retractable roof

Notable Game Attended:  Orioles v. Rays; October 2, 2012

If you’ve ever been to the greater Tampa Bay area, there are probably a few things you notice right away.  The first is, no matter the time of year, it’s very hot and very humid.  The second is the magnificent bridges that span both Old Tampa Bay and new Tampa Bay (simply called “Tampa Bay”).  While these bridges are certainly nice to look at and form quite the picturesque sight line, they also are symbolic of one of the biggest problems that the area’s major league ballclub experiences on a nightly basis.  In short, the stadium, located in St. Petersburg, is not the most accessible place on Earth.  Nor is it located in a particularly bustling area.   Nor is it particularly nice to look at both inside and out.  Combine all those things, throw in the fact that the most successful team in baseball history has already laid claim to much of the area, and you have a recipe for disaster.  The result of that recipe?  The #30 ranked stadium on the list, Tropicana Field, home of the Tampa Bay Rays.

A bit of background.  Tropicana Field (formerly called the “Florida Suncoast Dome”) was built with the sole purpose of bringing a baseball team to Western Florida.  At the time (the late 1980s, to be exact), I’m sure this place was seen as a practical building as domes were all the rage in baseball from the late 60s until about the turn of the century.  Most importantly, the roof would shelter fans and players alike from the oppressive heat offered by Florida summers.  The problem was, of course, that no team came.  Not until 1998 when the Rays (then called Devil Rays) and Arizona Diamondbacks both joined Major League Baseball.  I’m not sure on this, but I would bet that fans and ownership alike both grew tired of “The Trop” early on.  While Arizona enjoyed a brand new park the Rays were stuck in baseball purgatory (or hell) playing their games in what can only be described as a Costco with AstroTurf; a dark, dreary, lifeless place that cannot possibly stick around if the Rays hope to remain in the Tampa Bay area.

Baseball purists will tell you that there is something very displeasing about watching a baseball game inside, as if it’s Anti-American or something.  I happen to disagree and can see the need for having a stadium with a roof in places like Seattle and Florida.  What the designers of the Trop failed to keep in mind, I think, is that just because a place needs to be indoors does not mean that it has to feel like you’re watching a baseball game in a dungeon.  The first thing you notice when stepping inside Tropicana Field is how “dark” the place is.  It’s poorly lit, the walls are gray and the concourses are lifeless.  Walking out into the seating section offers little relief from the depressing feel of the place.  The only color afforded radiates from a “Tropicana” ad in the outfield and the yellow foul poles.  The roof looks like it was designed to be featured in a Hollywood film about dystopian America and houses concentric catwalks that actually hang low enough that balls often hit them.  This absurdity cannot be overstated.  PART OF THE ROOF CAN BE HIT BY BASEBALLS.  To mitigate this “problem” the Rays have a unique set of ground rules which, if memory serves, apply different results depending on which catwalk is hit.  I believe one of them results in an out, the other results in a ground rule double and the final ring results in a home run.  Of course, there is no place for something like this in a ballpark, which is another reason why The Trop is ranked so low.  All parks have their quirks, that’s what makes them so unique, but the Trop’s quirk is by far the toughest one to digest for baseball fans.

As previously mentioned, the location and surrounding area are not ideal.  Rays’ ownership has often criticized the park as being located away from the heart of the Tampa Bay region, and they are correct.  The park is in St. Petersburg which is located across from the City of Tampa and requires traversing an almost three mile bridge across Old Tampa Bay to get to.  Once you arrive, there is not much in the way of pre-game festivities to be found.  I believe my buddy and I found the one bar close to the park and it was actually a chill place, owing largely to the fact that, unless there is a playoff game going on, not a soul enters this place, adding to the lifelessness.  I know in the introduction I said I would not hold “lack of atmosphere” against a place if the team was bad, but the fact of the matter is, this place is deserted whether the Rays are in first place or last, a testament to just how bad a place it is to catch a baseball game.

Not all is lost, however.  The slanted roof is unique and looks pretty cool, I guess.  And in center field there is a tank of sting rays (stingers removed) that folks can go up and pet prior to a game.  This is a unique feature that is probably pretty necessary in what is otherwise an incredibly unremarkable place. 

So yea, the worst park in the majors.  Someone had to be last and Tampa, it's you.  Hopefully it won’t be around much longer as it looks like the Rays will either get their new park or try to head North of the Border, but I suppose only time will tell.  In the meantime the Trop will live on, to the chagrin of us all.

UPDATES

-A reader informed me of the actual ground rules at The Trop concerning the catwalks.  Apparently, none of the rings are an automatic out, but it does provide for some high comedy.  You see, defensive players often try to line up the ball when fielding a fly ball, and basic geometry and physics dictates that every hit ball will come down to Earth in some sort of beautiful parabola.  The catwalks completely mess this up and thus make any "can of corn" hit at the Trop an adventure.

-I CANNOT BELIEVE I forgot to mention the gorgeous display at the Trop honoring the final night of the 2011 regular season.  For those not familiar with the events surrounding this wonderful night (aka anyone that isn't a Rays, Red Sox or Orioles fan), the evening ended with the Red Sox blowing a historic division lead, thanks to the gutsy play of one Robert Andino.  Anyway, this "mural" does a much better job at highlighting the events of that evening than I ever could, so check it out if you're ever in the stadium.  For us Orioles' fans, this night was the highlight of a 13-year period of pure awfulness which was, thankfully, put to rest in 2012.

A Brief Introduction

I don’t remember my first live baseball game.  I believe I was roughly three years old when I attended a San Diego Padres game with my father and grandfather at then Jack Murphy Stadium (now called Qualcomm – the Chargers still play there, the Padres moved into a new stadium in 2004).  My only proof of having attended that game is captured in a picture buried somewhere in my parents’ house and features yours truly sporting a nifty tan and gold Padres’ baseball cap (and probably a face full of cotton candy).  While I’m sure I was like most young children at a baseball game (read:  ready to leave by the 5^th inning) it’s undeniable that my father and grandfather did a wonderful job starting me early on what has, for 33 years running, been my life’s greatest hobby (and I’m not sure if “hobby” is the right word…  “obsession” perhaps?)

I love baseball.  Love it.  Love everything about it.  Historian Bruce Catton once wrote, “Say this much for big league baseball — it is beyond question the greatest conversation piece ever invented in America.”  While I’m sure this isn’t true for most people, it’s certainly true for me.  I can talk about baseball with anyone, anywhere at any time.  I can watch pretty much any baseball game that is on TV.  I know more about the sports’ history than any other subject, and it isn’t particularly close.  I love the preseason, the regular season, the post season and the offseason.  I love MLB Network and MLB Network radio.  I love the memories of playing catch with my father.  I love baseball movies, baseball books, baseball documentaries (although I don’t like Ken Burns’ “Baseball” as much as most people do).  Yea, I have an obsession and it’s probably not healthy – but what obsession is?

Most of all, I love attending live games.  There is nothing as aesthetically pleasing as going to a baseball game.  It’s pretty hackneyed at this point to talk about the “smell of the grass” or the “taste of the ice cold beer” or the “sound of the bat cracking” but these clichés all ring true to me.  After all, most clichés come about due to some sort of truth, right?  All this is to say, that it made perfect sense for me to make it a goal in life to attend a baseball game in every current active major league baseball stadium (and yes, this means that when the Braves’ new park opens in 2017, I will have to schlep on down to Atlanta, go to the Coca-Cola Museum and attend a game there). 

The goal started off as a bit of a joke, an impractical dream that made perfect sense in my head, but wasn’t grounded in a sliver of reality.  My original idea, as a 16-year-old with a fresh driver’s license was to save up enough money in one summer to take the next summer off and drive around the country and see every park in three months.  You can probably list 20 or so reasons why this idea never really gained steam but let’s just say that earning $5.75 an hour as a bag boy at Safeway is not the best way to finance a three month vacation.  My next bright idea was to write a letter to the editor of Sports Illustrated and ask him to pay for me to drive around the country and document my trip (one of my favorite films is “Almost Famous” and maybe you can see why).  This suggestion was rejected with extreme prejudice and I was, unfortunately, left with option three – to gradually complete my goal over several summers, seeing a park or two (or sometimes more) on each trip until completion.  Fortunately, I have several friends who share a similar love for the game and finding a companion for most of the trips was not difficult. 

All-in-all, the quest took the better part of two decades but following an excursion to Seattle last July it was finally complete.  Which, of course, begs the question,  now what?  Originally I was going to simply rank the stadiums 1-30 and leave it at that, but, hey, this was quite the achievement and it deserves a little more reflection and a bit more written words for the sake of posterity.  So, I am using this humble little blog to slowly release my rankings, one at a time, with a brief write up on each.  A few things to consider here:

1       There is no definite rating system like you would see most places.  Different things matter differently at different places.  To use a category like “historical significance” and have it weighted equally when comparing, say, Wrigley Field to Marlins Park is insulting to the former and unfair to the latter.  Instead, I try to take everything into account on a case-by-case basis.  Yes, Fenway Park is significant in terms of history, yes, it’s cramped and probably dangerous but those things shouldn’t both matter equally, right?

2       We are starting at 30 and working our way to 1.  Self explanatory.

3      I tried not to take into account whether the team sucked or not when I saw a particular game.  This goes more towards atmosphere than anything, but it’s not right to penalize a park for being completely lifeless when the team on the field isn’t that good.  A perfect example of this is Busch Stadium in St. Louis.  This is a park that houses one of the all-time great baseball franchises in one of the all-time great baseball cities.  When I went it was in late September and the Cards were essentially eliminated from playoff contention.  As you can probably imagine, the place wasn’t sold out and it wasn’t particularly joyous in there.  Still, you will never convince me that Busch Stadium isn’t a place that is capable of producing a tremendous atmosphere when the team is good – I’ve seen enough on TV to know that’s the case.  So, I tended to leave fluctuating things like “atmosphere” and “fan interest” towards the bottom of the barrel when considering my evaluations.

4      I am going to do my best to be unbiased.  I may dislike 99% of the fans that are in Fenway Park, but that doesn’t mean that it’s not a top 10 place to watch a baseball game (belated spoiler alert, sorry).

5      I tried to consider EVERYTHING that matters.  Not just the park itself, but stuff like sightlines, traffic, neighborhood, things to see/do in or around the park, food, costs, etc.  Everything goes here.

6       My memory is pretty good, but it’s not great.  Some of these parks I have not been to in quite some time, so, if I botch something, let me know.  Thanks.

7      Finally, any and all comments and feedback are welcome.  This is my opinion sure, but my opinion isn’t the only one that counts (at least that’s what people keep telling me) so please leave comments if you see fit.

Ok, I think that’s enough in the way of introduction.  Enjoy the entries and maybe I’ll see you at a game.