So, It Begins
May 8, 2007 12:36 AM
There was no ceremony or speech-making, so you may not have noticed it, but construction on the new Twins ballpark actually began today.
It began this morning when crews permanently closed a portion of Third Avenue North which will be replaced by the main entry plaza and pedestrian bridge. Later, they also closed a lane on North Fifth Street to begin preparing the bridge to be substantially rebuilt. Some of this work was already underway when I last visited the site a couple of months ago, but back then it was being done on spec. Now, it's officially a part of ballpark-building.
That makes this a pretty big day, though it didn't really seem like one. Let me share three random thoughts for the occasion.
Remembering Ebbets Field
I'm reading a book called The Greatest Ballpark Ever by Bob McGee. His first chapter recounts the day that demolition began on the great old park. Former players and former fans were on hand, the Star Spangled Banner was sung, a somber ceremony took place and photos were taken.
Then a wrecking ball, grotesquely painted to look like a baseball, smashed into the roof of the visitor's dugout (watch it here). It was a very sad day for a lot of people.
Fans develop deep connections to the place where their team plays. It happens across sports, but it's somehow deepest in baseball. The game is about place, after all. It's about leaving home on a journey and trying to find your way back home. It's hero mythology come to life. That's just one of the reasons that baseball is the greatest game. It's about -- no, it is the human experience.
Over years, the confines of the baseball stadium become the walls of your home. They are safe, familiar. Fans start and end many journeys there. There are happy times and sad times. You leave, but you always find your way back. The walls change, of course. They get a new coat of paint now and then, maybe a new picture or bulletin board gets hung. But they remain home.
The Nature of Home
My parents are moving in a couple of months. Their condo is up for sale (it's lovely), and they are moving back to a neighborhood they love.
Whenever they move, I think again about how history wants to attach itself to places, but it never quite works. I think about our old family homestead up in Princeton, where no one from our family has lived for 20 years. I think about how no one there will ever know the story of how Chris and I broke the stairway doorknob during a fight and had to work together to get it open again. Though they may stand on the same spot, no one else knows about how I got hit in the eye with a batted ball right there. No one ever will. Someone may dig up the bones, but no one will ever know the names of those cats (Rex and Rascal) and parakeets (Perky, all of them). And no one knows that my grandmother's wedding ring is still there, somewhere in that dirt.
I think about my own 1907 house and the very large family (Frank and Augusta Carlbom and their seven children), now all gone, who called it home for some 70 years. None of their history seems to be found in our walls, though it feels like it should be there.
If the ballpark is home, then the fans are family with the team. The stories go well beyond what happened on the field. The people who went out to Ebbets Field on that dreary day knew it all too well. They knew they were losing the place where Jackie Robinson made history, but they also were losing the place where history beyond baseball was spun into the Brooklyn DNA across generations.
Of course, losing the ballpark was an echo of the real loss. It was the owner, not the team or the park, which betrayed the family.
The Metrodome is converted to its football configuration after the Twins game on August 29, 2002
I remember standing in the Metrodome on the day before the labor dispute was settled in August 2002. There was this sense in the air that the Twins -- this 100-year-old franchise, founding member of the American League -- might never play again. If there had been a strike, who's to say that the Twins wouldn't have been contracted as part of the settlement? I stood there thinking about Calvin Griffith and Carl Pohlad, Kent Hrbek and Herb Carneal, and all the other people who had been part of this particular family -- even Walter Johnson.
That was the darkest day I've ever known as a Twins fan. I stood at the upper deck railing for a long time after the game and watched as crews converted the Dome into its football configuration. I cursed the place on my way out. It felt like the concrete oval, which came in on time and under budget, was about to kill my team, and take with it the memories of this gigantic family. Though others were certainly complicit, what hurt most was that the home had betrayed the family.
Places, Past and Future
If you go out to the Mall of America, you can stand right where Harmon Killebrew hit a whole bunch of home runs. You can occupy the space that Rod Carew stole on multiple occasions. You can inhabit a little piece of the earth that teams fought over 81 times a year (and more) for over 20 years. More magical things happened on that spot than can be recounted here.
What's interesting to me is that space doesn't appear or disappear. People say, "I wish I could knock out a wall and have a little more space in here." But new walls simply enclose space which already existed. Tearing down walls just exposes space which was previously enclosed. That's the purpose of architecture: to enclose space for people to use. The space doesn't change, just the enclosure. But the enclosure, in turn, changes the people it encloses.
When all is said and done, memories stick to the people, not the places. And the success of the place will be measured by the memories it allows us to create and hold. That's the real ballpark magic.
I've walked the Rapid Park lot many times, and I've tried to discern from the site plans where home plate might be. It's not easy, and probably won't be determined officially for some time. But I do this to celebrate in a very small way the memories which are to come.
Right now, you can occupy space which will be fought over 81 times a year (or more) by the best players in the game. One day, a World Series will be played there. One day a no-hitter will be thrown right there! More magical things will happen there than we can imagine right now. But we will remember them as they happened in that place.
So, if you get a chance, go down there and occupy the space -- just so you can say that you did. In the long lens of time, that space, though as yet unenclosed, is already part of the game.
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This page was last modified on January 21, 2010.
"You talk about the magic, the aura, but what really makes a stadium is the fans. Concrete doesn't talk back to you. Chairs don't talk back to you. It's the people who are there, day in, day out, that makes the place magic."
– Bernie Williams
Explore the Site
Here are 50 images chosen randomly from the 3045 found on this site. Click the image to be taken to the original post. A new list is created every 10 minutes.
I love this view of the Basilica.
Shh. Don't tell those people working behind the ticket windows about these automated ticketing machines (underneath the plaza stairs)
I'll admit that this makes me nervous. It's pretty easy to step into the path of a train (which is true at various points along the line, but still...)
This view is from the roof of a warehouse which stood where the A ramp is today. The HERC is now located where the tracks turned north (toward the top).
Click to enlarge.
The green in question (click for very large version)
This is the revised version of the center field pavilion (without the restaurant). It looks like there are no seats, just some ledges for people to sit on. It reminds me of the seating on the "bridge" which sticks out of the new Guthrie Theater. Anything which lands in the trees will presumably be a home run, so the "411" sign is apparently just for fun.
These outfield stands will likely remain visible to passersby.
In addition to the Pro Shop facade, you can see more gravel being laid before the final plaza surface is poured.
That is the gun-metal gray wall of The Stadium just beyond the elevated tracks.
Look beyond the gigantic hand (a hounds tooth jacket? really?) and you'll get a glimpse of the main grandstand configuration. The two (or is it three?) levels of suites are visible, as is the design of the so-called "split upper deck," and the extensive use of limestone for decorative accents. Let's hope these little touches don't get cut as costs increase, because they make a nice tie-in from the outside of the park to the inside. Of most interest to me is the way that the very best seats are physically separated from all the rest of the seats by that limestone. There will be virtually no way to sneak into these seats. On one level, that's a somewhat sad design feature...
The reverse angle shows that the signage will only partially obscure views from the top of the ramp. The wall is pretty high up there, so you'll need something to stand on, but it appears that this is one of the so-called "knotholes".
June 29,1936 - May 17, 2011
A close-up of the rooftop party deck.
Click to enlarge greatly
Two plazas in Spain. (Brad and I were pretending to steal coins from the fountain. We were all just so darn funny back in high school, eh?)
The brick has been tinted where the circulation ramp meets the admin building.
The louvres on Fifth have been completely filled in
A spot that's always full!
Click to see the whole, beautiful image. (Photo by Tyler Wycoff)
(Click to enlarge greatly)
From the ground beneath the troubled skyway.
One of the sweetest sights of the day -- the Dome, and only through passing bus windows.
Above the Carew gate
The Puckett Atrium
This was actually taken from the top floor of the International Market Square.
Viewed from up Sixth Street, the tip of the canopy looks like the claw of some gigantic crustacean!
The tracks on the right will be moved to the newly-cleared area on the left. The edge of the ballpark will be about where the rocks and dirt meet.
This is one complicated streetscape.
I love views like this. They show just how much Target Field shimmers. (Photo by Jeff Ewer)
Here's the view from the main concourse out through Gate 3 "Killebrew".
BPM - Ballpark Magic
BRT - Bus Rapid Transit
DSP - Dave St. Peter
FSE - Full Season Equivalent
FYS - Fake Yankee Stadium (see also: NYS)
HERC - Hennepin Energy Resource Company (aka the Garbage Burner)
HPB - Home Plate Box
HRP - Home Run Porch
LC - Legends Club
LRT - Light Rail Transit
MBA - Minnesota Ballpark Authority (will own Target Field)
MOA - Mall of America
MSFC - Minnesota Sports Facilities Commission (owns the Metrodome)
NYS - New Yankee Stadium
SRO - Standing Room Only
STH - Season Ticket Holder
TCFBS - TCF Bank Stadium
TF - Target Field
Selected Bibliography - Analysis
First Edition (1992)
Second Edition (2006)
Selected Bibliography - Surveys
Second Edition (1987)
Not a "Third Edition" exactly,
but it replaced the above title
(2000, large coffee table)
Original edition (2000, round)
Revised edition (2006, round)
(2001, medium coffee table)
(2002, small coffee table)
(2003, medium coffee table)
(2004, very large coffee table)
(2006, very large coffee table)
Combines the previous two titles
(2007, medium coffee table)
Selected Bibliography - Nostalgia
Book and six ballpark miniatures