Something about this week has kept good old Walt Whitman in the front of my consciousness.
For the uninitiated, Whitman wrote (and re-wrote) "Leaves of Grass" around the time of the Civil War, and all but invented truly American poetry.
Beyond writing a book whose title perfectly sums up this week's activity down in the rail yard, Whitman was well known as an early baseball fan, and he spoke about it in prose and poetry on various occasions.
In our sun-down perambulations, of late, through the outer parts of Brooklyn, we have observed several parties of youngsters playing "base", a certain game of ball...Let us go forth awhile, and get better air in our lungs. Let us leave our close rooms...the game of ball is glorious. -- Walt Whitman, 1846
It's impossible to sum up what Whitman's poetry has to say about the American character, and equally impossible to know how he would have reacted to a Fourth Estate which has little interest in going beyond the press release, or a TV news culture which has the attention span of a gnat.
After recording as many of the local news shows as I could this evening, I expected to start this article with a few clips from the coverage of today's completion of the grass install. Oh, if only there had been any worthy coverage.
Yep, that's real grass down there, son.
What short stories I did find in the early evening programs dutifully quoted from the press release (again), slapped together some footage of sod rolls and bulldozers, and surrounded it with toothy grins. Of all that I saw, only KARE11's Jensen Twins did anything remotely creative, or gave the story more than a passing mention. By 10:00 PM, the whole thing was all but forgotten. That's a shame.
(As an aside, I would embed the video here but the damn KARE11 web site force-feeds commercials that you can't even mute. I'm protesting.)
The Jensens also got the most interesting quote that I heard from Larry DiVito (who is clearly uncomfortable with all the attention): "To grow grass in this climate is not the challenge it was 30 years ago, and we're pretty comfortable with the heating system we're installing, the type of grass we're installing and that we're gonna be successful up here."
The first statement is pretty remarkable, essentially dismissing (with justification) all of the concerns people might have about climate-related turf issues based on their memories of what outdoor baseball used to be like around these parts. Lord knows there were plenty of issues back at the Met.
Coverage was a little better earlier in the week, though all the stations pretty much looked the same. KSTP has some pretty cool pre-grass helicopter shots.
(The interviewer) said: "Baseball is the hurrah game of the republic!"
He (Whitman) was hilarious: "That's beautiful: the hurrah game! well — it's our game: that's the chief fact in connection with it: America's game: has the snap, go fling, of the American atmosphere — belongs as much to our institutions, fits into them as significantly, as our constitutions, laws: is just as important in the sum total of our historic life." -- 1889
The Strib used much cheaper tactics and tried to rile up some animosity from local sod growers. Pitiful. Of course, they also covered the Guv's inevitable -- and inevitably lame -- response.
And people wonder why that paper is dying. It's not the good people working in the trenches. It's the management and editorial staff who encourage this type of garbage in the hopes that they can stir up a profitable rhubarb. The Twins have good reasons for selecting the vendor they did, and they are right up front about it. In baseball, every tiny advantage counts. And I think you can reasonably say that the right grass is more than a "tiny" advantage.
In fact, MPR gets some good quotes about how the team may manipulate grass length. It's an old story, but there's something there that is worth knowing. It's one of the ways they will be able to revel in the fact that it isn't artificial turf!
"I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-work of the stars." -- Walt Whitman
It's now well past midnight, and the 24-hour news cycle has left the grass story to fade from public consciousness. But I'm just getting started.
Another over-my-head shot
Parking ramp knothole
B ramp glimpse
Another B ramp glimpse (don't loiter here!)
Workers against green
I don't think it's coincidence that it is not possible to see even a single blade of playing field grass from the skyway. (This is not a lament, just an observation.)
Here's the best shot I got, a variation on the one I posted earlier, taken with the camera held over my head, while trying to stay moving lest I be hustled away by parking ramp security ("No Loitering" signs are everywhere):
(Click to enlarge)
Because I couldn't be around for the actual sod laying, here are a couple of galleries worth checking out:
There's also a lot of grass and other greenery to be seen out on the plaza.
The big glove will go on that circle. Note the gap between the plaza and the ramp. That's 394 you can see through there.
A path for workers -- don't touch the plaza! -- in front of three giant Chia pets
Purple flowers above Second Avenue
Some infrastructure stuff:
Gate 34 Puckett
You can finally see how the plaza will meet the street on the north side of this emergency exit tower (which will be converted to a regular entrance/exit)
I realized I've never shown how the walkway over Seventh Street meets the A ramp
Stairs down to Seventh Street now have the start of railings
The parking bay structure is now clearly visible
Louvres (oddly without any random gaps like the Fifth Street facade):
Notice the temporary railing extensions
And a little bit of sky, just for fun:
There you have it, the sum total of my hour-long walking tour.
On a day when I got some discouraging news about my own artistic aspirations, and was again frustrated in my attempts to help the Twins tell the story of Target Field, let's give Uncle Walt a shot at providing some context:
It is a beautiful truth that all men contain something of the artist in them.
And perhaps it is the case that the greatest artists live and die, the world and themselves alike ignorant what they possess.
Who would not mourn that an ample palace, of surpassingly graceful architecture, fill’d with luxuries, and embellish’d with fine pictures and sculpture, should stand cold and still and vacant, and never be known or enjoy’d by its owner?
Would such a fact as this cause your sadness? Then be sad. For there is a palace, to which the courts of the most sumptuous kings are but a frivolous patch, and, though it is always waiting for them, not one of its owners ever enters there with any genuine sense of its grandeur and glory.
I think of few heroic actions, which cannot be traced to the artistical impulse. He who does great deeds, does them from his innate sensitiveness to moral beauty.
Whitman sure covered a lot of territory. He had a keen sense for beauty, history, art, humanity. These are all things which need be present in architecture (and business, and life) for it to soar and capture the imagination of those with whom it comes in contact.
As such, while grass has certainly humanized this ballpark to a degree, it's only a small milestone. Whitman would be the first to say that a place isn't a place without people.
Can you wait?
Thanks for stopping by today, and for keeping things going in my absence. Next, I'll return to TCF Bank Stadium for a bit. There's lots more to see there, and it's quite relevant to what's going on here. Until then...
"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 3037 found on this site. Click the image to be taken to the original post. A new list is created every 10 minutes.
Harmon is visible (barely) at the very center of the crowd.
These stairs will go up to the centerfield pavilion.
Double plays will be turned here.
Look closely at the overhang. You'll see the on the right it is flush with the fence, and then it sticks out farther and farther as you move toward center. More fun for Michael Cuddyer.
Condiments! (complete with faux limestone on the cart -- nice touch)
The alumni band sounded great.
A few weeks ago there were sand volleyball courts here. When the park opens, this will be surface parking. Maybe one day there will be something more interesting built on top of that parking...
Legends Club fireplace (there are two)
Crosswalk taking shape.
Final pieces arrive
Opening day, 2010
This is the staircase (ramp?) leading up to the trapezoid. Nice flagpole too. You'll be able to find me and Ben McEvers at the base of that flagpole on opening day in 2010!
July 7, 1966 (Click to see the entire scorecard with ads)
This is as close as I could get to a pedestrian-eye view of the main entrance. This is what you'll see as you enter by coming down Sixth Street.
A glimpse of the rather plain west facade (the side which faces the HERC plant).
A look at Gate 34.
A closer look at the louvers
The equivalent spot on the model.
Here you can see the real beauty of the Seventh Street side, and get a solid sense of why the overall design really works. The building's purpose is clearly visible, there are numerous connections from inside to outside, scale is nicely mitigated, the stone is attractively used, materials are pleasantly mixed and truly complementary. It's just a winner in so many ways.
Dome, what have you taken from us?
Once again, Noah is holding his ears because of the traffic noise.
I finally found the corner of TF dedicated to the Senators. What a wonderful sight.
Storage tracks in the foreground.
The sign reads, "Mortenson Radio Channels".
Photo by Tyler Wycoff
The windows have started going in.
Photo by Jeff Ewer
Door to the visitor's clubhouse.
This looks south and shows how the Northstar tracks are sheltered by the promenade above. This is the side which faces the HERC plant.