I can't remember exactly when I attended my first game at Tiger
Stadium. Maybe I was 7 or 8 years old. You see, with the exception of
my mom's fanatical Scottish relatives who would make ritual sacrifice
in the name of their Celtic -- that would be the soccer team from
Glasgow, not this year's NBA Champs -- my family wasn't really that
into following sports.
I
do remember my dad taking us kids on occasion down to the game. We
would sit in the centerfield bleachers, usually in the upper deck,
which I thought was pretty cool. With the open air it felt like you
were looking down on the game from up in space. And as an added bonus
you got a great view of the big screen scoreboard -- you just had to
crane your neck 180 degrees.
It wasn't until that magical 1984
season when I really developed a love for the game of baseball and for
Tiger Stadium. That season I learned how to score and I started to
follow the players and their stats. Whitaker and Trammell. Morris,
Parrish, Gibson, Lemon, Evans, Brookens, Hernandez, Herndon … even
Marty Castillo and his pennant winning catch. They all developed a
special place in my heart, as did the quirky ballpark where the
flagpole was inbounds, and where I first learned the phrase "sacred
ground," a sacred ground now under imminent threat but
still worth saving.
Ghosts and legendsOver
the months leading to the World Series, a deep sense of pride of place
and tradition washed over me. And by the time Detroiters around the
world were singing Bless You Boys, I was deeply aware that the
electricity of the '84 Tigers was intensified by ghosts of the past --
of both player and spectator and the singular dance they played at The
Corner, a relationship built over nearly a century.
As
my connection to Tiger Stadium grew stronger, I was also learning about
the growing threat to its well-being. In the late 1980s, I had some of
my first exposure to the historic preservation movement through the
efforts of Friends of Tiger Stadium, an organization promoting the
preservation of Tiger Stadium through smart alternative solutions and
who orchestrated several well-attended stadium hugs in response to
growing official sentiment that the old ballpark should to be replaced.
Friends
of Tiger of Stadium also taught me that Detroit's baseball stadium was
not only a interesting touchstone to our city's past, but that it had
national significance as one of the oldest parks in the majors. After
Comiskey Park in Chicago was torn down in 1991, only Fenway Park in
Boston could claim the title of oldest with Tiger Stadium, which opened
on the same day in 1912, although under another name, Navin Field.
There
were so many things about Tiger Stadium that made it exceptional, from
offering some of the most intimate seats in baseball to its history
hosting other notable events over time, like being home to the world
champion Detroit Lions (if you can believe it), to a boxing match with
Detroit's own Joe Louis, to the 1990 appearance of recently-freed
Nelson Mandela, released from a South African prison after almost 30
years. Though the name changed over time . . . Navin Field, Briggs
Stadium and finally Tiger Stadium . . . the "Corner" provided Detroiters generations of history and memory.
I
moved to New York City for a decade to study and work, but Tiger
Stadium was still in my blood and on my mind. Once the decision to
build a new stadium was made, a friend from college and I decided to
buy season tickets. He even moved to Detroit for a year to work for the
Tigers during the last season. I would make trips on Spirit Air, which
had flights into City Airport at that time, to pay my respects to the
old ballpark.
It all culminated on September 27, 1999 against
the Kansas City Royals. At the end of the game, I felt like Tiger
Stadium's heart was being ripped out as a groundskeeper pick axed home
plate from its mooring and hoisted it above his head for the ceremonial
trip downtown to what I saw as the corporate fantasyland of Comerica
Park.
For me, that was the end of baseball, and indeed my
interest in professional sports for some time. I was sick of the
inflated salaries and ticket prices, corporate boxes and naming rights,
historic pastiche and parking lots. I swore I would never go to a game
at Comerica Park. Well, despite my intentions, my boycott lasted about
five years, and even though I go to Tigers games periodically, it's
never really been the same.
Dreams of the fieldFor
a white boy from northwest Detroit, Tiger Stadium was one of the few
places where I saw people from all over the region congregate within
the city limits. It's also the place where my classmates would dream of
playing in the Detroit Public Schools high school playoffs. It was the
place where Chet Lemon and Larry Herndon roamed the outfield and Alan
Trammell and "Sweet Lou" Whittaker turned masterful double plays longer
than any other duo in the history of baseball. In short, I knew it as a
place where Detroiters of any color, both on and off the field, could
come together for at least a team, if not always for a city.
This is why Councilwoman Barbara Rose Collins' statement recently about wanting to demolish Tiger Stadium because
of its racist past is particularly disturbing. It's true Walter Briggs
senselessly fought off integrating the team and African-American fans
were often treated as second-class citizens. While there's no excuse
for these injustices, the cumulative psychic energy of nearly 7,000
baseball games and the spirit of a city, both good and bad, shouldn't
be reduced to rubble without consideration. This impulse to erase
community history is short sighted and reactionary. Learning from past
miscues should mean keeping layers intact and relevant to today so that
future generations better understand their community's narrative.
The
former project manager of the Old Tiger Stadium Conservancy stated it
eloquently in a recent rebuttal to Councilwoman Collins. He suggested
that the Conservancy's plan to transform Tiger Stadium into a community
facility which leaves the field and a portion of the stadium intact
would allow Tiger Stadium not only redeem itself, but also provide a
vision for how an historic asset can be recast for the benefit of
today. Black, white, brown and yellow can learn to play on grounds
where greats Ty Cobb (who would likely never have willingly played
against black players) and Satchel Paige (who for most of his career
wasn't allowed to play in Tiger Stadium) were brought together, though
decades apart, for love of the game.
It's true many plans have
been floated over the years, and it's truly a shame that so much of the
stadium is being lost. But by now it's water under the bridge. A smart,
creative reuse and scaled back version of Tiger Stadium would be an
incredible victory for the city. It would show the world proof
positive that Detroit is smart about reusing its historic assets
because we believe in the power of their story. We believe in the
city's future because we believe in our city's great past and growing
from lessons learned. And if you believe, then right now you're someone
who needs to support the Conservancy.
Dan
Varner is one of those people. He's the CEO of Think Detroit P.A.L. and
current President of the Tiger Stadium Conservancy. Varner also grew up
watching Tiger games in the center field bleachers and has fond
memories of the stadium. But when asked about the project, his initial
reaction is pragmatic. "I was recruited to the board because of my
connections to youth baseball. In a city with a desperate need for more
high quality facilities, I saw Tiger Stadium as a great opportunity."
For
Varner, the project is first and foremost a matter of economic
development in an area of the city that has seen new growth and
positive change. "This project can serve as a catalyst to work with
what is already happening." Of course the rich history of Tiger Stadium
is not lost on Varner either. "It captures the imagination . . . " he
muses, "kids stepping into the same batter's box as the greats."
Varner
also understands that Tiger Stadium meant so much to so many
generations of metro Detroiters in so many ways. He deftly explains to
me how the stadium symbolized both the big picture -- when it was the
place where Detroiters came together during the 1968 championship
season to calm frayed nerves after the explosive summer of 1967 -- as
well the intimate -- a snapshot of a family gathering or a moment of
father-son bonding. If it comes to pass, Varner predicts the project
will be "completely unique in the country."
All things considered, I'm inclined to agree, and I'm looking forward to the future of Tiger Stadium. I hope you are too.
The
Old Tiger Stadium Conversancy will have a formal fundraising
announcement in the coming weeks to help augment the $4 million earmark
the Conservancy is expecting from the Federal Government to begin the
project. For more info, go to
www.savetigerstadium.org.
Francis
Grunow is the former Executive Director of Preservation Wayne. He is
currently a law student at Wayne State University. Reach him at
feedback@modeldmedia.com.
Photos:
Seated, Dan Varner current President of the Tiger Stadium Conservancy
All Photographs by Marvin Shaouni
Marvin Shaouni is the managing photographer for Metromode & Model D.