Dad and I are waiting outside the gates at Progressive
Field. It’s a few minutes before they open
for the night. We’re on a sidewalk, just beyond the opening in
back of left field.
Behind
the gate, a few security officers, attendants, and police officers
are walking around. The teams have been taking batting practice,
and one of the policemen has been picking up a few of the balls.
Seems a bit strange, and he is ignoring those calling to him from
the outside… to be specific, the adults calling for him to toss
them a ball.
As
the gates open, the officer walks directly over to a young girl
and boy… no more than 7 or 8 years old… and hands each of them
an official baseball. He looks right at them, smiles, and tells
them to have a great time at the game.
It
was a perfect moment… conducted very quietly. Several of us saw
it, and I wonder if we all reacted the same.
Cleveland…
you’re a great city. There is quite a sense of community here,
and it’s a fantastic thing to be a part of. Oh yeah… the ballpark…
This
is a simply massive field.
They
won’t tell you that, of course. They’ll tell you about how it
shares facilities with the home of the Cleveland Cavaliers, Quicken
Loans Arena. The tour will point out the history of the Indians
and the respect the club has for the fans. (They have retired
the number 455 in honor of the consecutive string of sell outs
that had been a major league record.)
But
walking into this place… wow. It… is… gigantic.
Maybe
it’s the angles. The way the field combines with openings in the
corners of the outfield. Perhaps the lighter colors are involved.
Kind of an obstacle illusion.
I
doubt it.
I
think it has something… something unwritten… something perhaps
never intended by design… something to do with the community.
Sturdy. Built to withstand the weather of the region and the hard
times in general. Strong and at the same time welcoming.
The
multiple levels just stack up and the place looks higher than
many stadiums because of it. During our tour we saw back hallways
and open food courts that looked huge.
And
all of that said… note I said strong and at the same time welcoming.
Don’t let a bit of size detract from the fact that this is a beautiful
ballpark. The only trouble with it was that we saw it immediately
after touring PNC Park in Pittsburgh. See… ok, hold on, story
time…
During
the game, these two parks were both amazing. Food options were
perfect and readily available. The seats were awesome, and likely
would have been no matter where we sat. The people couldn’t possibly
have been nicer. Both of these parks are fantastic, and I would
be proud to have my favorite team playing in either of them.
There’s
just something slightly out of place here at Progressive Field.
And I think I know what it is.
Have
you heard the complaints about professional sporting events lately?
They have hot dog cannons and cheerleaders and high-tech-wizardry-scoreboards
that tell us when to clap and when to applaud and ask us to keep
our eyes on the disappearing ball and decided what hat it’s under.
And
in the desire to provide us with cutting edge, never stopping,
pounding… pounding… pounding entertainment that is designed to
appreciate society’s inability to pay attention to anything for
more than five seconds, it seems like all of the activity during
the game is losing a bit of the unique atmosphere.
Does
that make sense?
Well…
Progressive Field had all of that stuff. The thin video ring between
upper and lower levels and the giant scoreboard. And it was very
impressive and even had moments where it was pleasant and worked
just about perfectly. But it almost overpowered the Cleveland
Indians… the team.
I
get the feeling that when the Indians are winning, this stadium
is simply amazing. It’s probably filled with warmth and a true
sense of community. People are slapping hands and the ground is
shaking. And, if you read about PNC Park, it’s an atmosphere I
wish that field could be surrounded by as well.
That
police officer with the baseballs? That was perfect. That was
a great start to a night of Cleveland baseball. But somewhere
inside, with Cliff Lee pitching during his Cy Young year, I was
missing a bit of Cleveland… in the shadow of a really big park.