Good-Bye to One of America's Oldest Ball Parks

One of the oldest baseball parks in America is rapidly approaching a date with a demolition crew. Tiger Stadium, long-time home of the Detroit Tigers, originally opened in 1912 on the same day as Boston's Fenway Park. However, it will soon be nothing more than photographs and memories.

Depressing as it is for thousands of baseball fans, the park's demise is inevitable. Efforts had been made to preserve it in its entirety, or even portions of it. As it stands now, a small section will be retained, but the vast majority of it will soon meet the wrecking ball. Demolition is scheduled to begin early next year, but no date has been set. The sale of seats and other memorabilia from the stadium has already taken place. I have a pair of tattered and worn blue seats in my basement - my own personal piece of history that I will treasure forever.

Nearly everyone in southeastern Michigan beyond their teen years has memories of that grand old structure. I am definitely included in that group. I vividly remember my father taking my brother and me to numerous games, and how much I was in awe of the stadium itself, the atmosphere, and the ever-present aroma of hot dogs that filled every corner. The first game I saw under its massive lights was indescribable.

Sitting in the top row of the bleachers, I watched one of Norm Cash's drives clear the right field roof and roll to a stop on the roof of a lumber yard's building across the street. Watching Charley Maxwell clobber four home runs in a doubleheader against the Yankees made me hoarse from cheering. I once took my 80-year-old baseball-fan grandmother to a game against the Orioles. "Oh, my land," she exclaimed as she watched Boog Powell send a mammoth shot over the roof in right field. I sat with my son in the box seats behind home plate as he discovered that players "say bad words" on the field. That's how close to the action fans were.

Many of the greatest players of all time played there. Al Kaline, Ty Cobb, Lou Gehrig, Babe Ruth, Ted Williams, Mickey Mantle . . . the list could go on and on.

Who can forget the famous right-field overhang that turned high fly balls into home runs while the right fielder stood helplessly waiting to make the catch that never came? The flagpole in center field, which was the tallest object in any major league ballpark that was in play? The transformer of the light tower in right center field that Reggie Jackson hit with his monstrous All-Star Game home run in 1971? Jackson later claimed that was the longest ball he ever hit.

I was able to snatch two baseballs over the years. They were both hit into the stands during batting practice, and grabbing them was thrilling indeed. Like any other kid who had no clue about nostalgia, I ruined them playing baseball with friends. The closest I ever came to getting a ball during a game was a Jason Thompson foul fly that nicked the hand of my outstretched left arm near the Tigers' bullpen, and sadly watching the guy sitting next to me in the right field upper deck make a clean catch of one of Maxwell's four home runs on that Sunday in 1959. So close. Either one of them would now be sitting on a shelf above my stadium seats. If only.

The stadium occupies the northwest corner of Michigan and Trumbull Avenues in an area west of downtown Detroit. That intersection ultimately became known as simply "the corner." Baseball had been played on that site since the 1800s, beginning with tiny Bennett Park. The stadium was reconfigured in 1912, and its name was changed to Navin (NAY-vin) Field.

Additions continued through the years, and in 1938, the stadium became the first in the country to be completely encircled by double decks. It was re-named Briggs Stadium, and ultimately Tiger Stadium in 1961. Incidentally, the certificate of authenticity that came with the stadium seats has an inexcusable mistake. It erroneously states that the stadium was once named "Briggs Field." That one's hard to overlook, but I'm keeping the certificate nonetheless.

The year 1938 marked another milestone for the stadium. It became the home of the Detroit Lions of the NFL, who shared it with the Tigers until 1975.

But progress, like time, marched on. Tiger Stadium eventually started to become an antique of the past. It no longer fit the demands of modern-day baseball. There were no suites, and nowhere to build them. It wasn't the most comfortable place, as most fans were forced into small, cramped seats. Players constantly hit their heads on the dugouts' roofs. The visitors' clubhouse was the smallest in the majors. Although many seats were close to the action, far too many were situated behind support posts, both in the upper and lower decks. The grandstands and concourses seemed dark and dingy. It was time for something new.

The final game at Tiger Stadium was played in September of 1999. The following year the Tigers moved to the new Comerica Park in downtown Detroit, not far from their old home. The modern new facility, with its open feel and unobstructed views, has its own brand of charm, and will eventually create as many memories as the old one, and perhaps even more. But it will take time. That's progress.

Today the old stadium is nothing more than a tattered and decaying hulk. The field resembles a neglected pasture. Weeds poke through the concrete in the grandstands. Gone are the banners, the glitz, the crowds, and the smell of hot dogs, cigar smoke, and beer. Although the shuttered gates, crumbling concrete and peeling paint are depressing sights to see, the old relic still stands proud, almost as if to defy the inevitable. And it retains its uncanny power of generating 100 years of memories to all who pass by.