Remember when Camden Yards was built and the trend for “nostalgic” ballparks began? Now, ten years or so later, a nostalgic ballpark is like the concrete bowl, recently hacked-into-baseball-shape RFK Stadium in Washington, DC.
I went down to see the Phillies, oddly, beat the Nationals. Despite Philly’s best effort to slack in the later innings – just when the Nationals statistically pick up steam – the bullpen managed to eke out a 5-4 win. They should win, RFK reminds me of nothing so much as the Vet.
I love the game, but I think I love the parks and the atmosphere more. As usual, I didn’t spend more than two or three innings in my assigned seat. I got up and wandered. Rumors of food shortages and surly help were greatly exaggerated. I won’t say the food was great but it was reasonably priced. I mean, where else are you going to get a dog or a slice of pizza for $4? Granted, Fenway pizza at $8 is infinitely superior but the slice didn’t give me the indigestion I expected.
Beers were only $5, with Guinness on tap (!) going for $6.25. Hell, you’d be hard pressed to get those prices in a DC bar.
And the park, very cool. Very nostalgic. I found a good spot above the infield seats across from third base to stand and watch and an even better, more active, spot above the infield seats around first. It’s not the Bank with a railing for your beer and grub but at least you could get a decent view without having to crane your neck around in the seats. On the seats’ behalf, I will confess they were spectacularly roomy with plenty of space for the old kickers. I miss that.
It ain’t a hitters’ ballpark though. The only way you could crank a home run is to hit it into the nosebleeds in the outfield. The best you can hope for on a straight-away bloop is a ground-rule double as the ball bounces off the back wall and onto the field. Lots of long singles and a couple of doubles and triples on account of the field’s size and lack of wind resistance.
A damned fine evening in an oddly enjoyable park.