Ryan Swanson is an Assistant Professor at the University of New Mexico. His first book, When Baseball Went White: Reconstruction, Reconciliation, and Dreams of a “National Pastime,” was published June 2014.
According to Brides.com, French Polynesia is “the world’s top honeymoon destination,” just in case you were wondering. Many newlyweds, of course, honeymoon in Cancun or Hawaii, basking in the sun and surf. Other couples bounce through continental Europe and see castles, sip expensive wines, and try to avoid appearing too American. When my wife and I got married, though, we couldn’t afford any of these options—not even close. Instead, we went to see an American treasure in its very last days.
Can we miss a ballpark that only hosted Major League Baseball for one season? What if that park shared its name with another, much more famous, baseball stadium? Suppose this ballpark never really fit with the architectural designs of its times; is that OK? And then there’s the fact that there are very few baseball fans alive today who remember visiting the facility. Can we still miss it?
Let’s say we can. Here’s why I say we should all miss the long-demolished, mostly forgotten Los Angeles Wrigley field.
The state of Michigan added Tiger Stadium to its list of historic sites in 1975. The National Park Service selected the old ballpark at Trumbull and Michigan Avenues for inclusion in the National Register of Historic Places in 1989. So it wasn’t as if the park was completely unappreciated during its own time. Tiger fans certainly filled the stadium annually. The white sheet metal façade that wrapped the outside of the ballpark made the stadium a landmark in Detroit’s Corktown neighborhood, located just west of downtown.
During the year that Theodore Roosevelt cruised to reelection as president of the United States, Peter Pan premiered on the London stage, and St. Louis hosted the Olympic Games (which included baseball exhibitions), pitching dominated the 1904 Major League Baseball season. Cy Young threw the first perfect game in MLB history. More than 50 hurlers had earned run averages below 3 at season’s end.
I know, I know . . . you should always read the book first. Everyone knows that movies based on books often disappoint the readers who loved those same books. Right? Or at the very least the movies distort their book-based stories. But sometimes the movies cannot be avoided first.
“Everything ends badly, otherwise it wouldn’t end.”
In July 1869, one of the strangest brawls in baseball history occurred in Charleston, South Carolina. The “base ball riot,” as the Charleston Courier described it, took place on the grounds of the Citadel. Racial tensions boiled over when Charleston police attempted to arrest a drunken fan. Partisan epithets filled the air, and thousands of black and white Charlestonians spilled onto the playing field. Baseball bats became weapons. And to make matters more bizarre, the fracas involved a marching band composed of black musicians.
In the summer of 1988, as a 12-year-old boy, I had a magical baseball summer. Over the course of a few short weeks, my grandfather introduced me to Vin Scully, Dodger Dogs, the LA Times’ Jim Murray, and Orel Hershiser. The timing was perfect. In 1988, the Dodgers raced to the NL Pennant and a World Series victory over the seemingly invincible Oakland A’s. The Dodgers’ ace, Hershiser, ripped off a string of dominant performances and scoreless innings that defied all explanations. I have never loved baseball as much as I did that summer.