Summer has finally arrived, and I don't know what your plans are, but mine are in full swing. In June, I went to Seattle for a first look at that city's snazzy ballpark. In a month, I'll be in New York to see one last game at Yankee Stadium.
Fifteen years ago, traveling anywhere other than to Boston or the north side of Chicago to visit a baseball stadium wasn't my (or anyone's) idea of fun. Sure, I'd take a quick trip to catch my beloved Angels, but the parks themselves were something to be endured, not enjoyed. Most were multipurpose monoliths of blocky concrete more suited to the politburos of Eastern Europe than the talents of Nolan Ryan. The nation was strewn with cookie-cutter hulks from the nadir of stadium building--the '50s through the early '70s.
But in 1992, a new park in Baltimore changed the landscape. Camden Yards was a stadium integrated into an inner city, not the 'burbs. The design motifs and building materials--brick and steel--recalled the game's roots in the early 20th century. It opened to rave reviews, happily influencing a frantic era of construction.
This decade alone has seen 10 new baseball parks, one of them not quite 4 months old. By 2010, bizarre as it sounds, the second-oldest spots in each league will be the parks in our backyard, Dodger and Angel stadiums, with Dodger Stadium due to unveil a $500-million renovation in 2012. And over the next two seasons, three more stadiums will open nationwide.
I decided to become an informal inspector general of these places, striving to uncover their ambient secrets, unique design touches and baseball-enhancing qualities. For the last couple of decades, I've done my best to match my domestic travel to a game. Mind you, this pursuit isn't unique. Others--completists--strive to hit all 30 major league parks. I'm pickier, avoiding the few miserable mistakes that blight the landscape in Oakland and Tampa Bay.
At the same time, there is a micro-industry committed to ballpark-chasing at a velocity I don't care to match: Tour buses stocked with cases of beer ply the highways, offering acolytes six games in six parks in seven days. Do a mash-up of "Bull Durham" and "If It's Tuesday, This Must Be Belgium" and you're pretty much there.
