PNC Park - Live Show May 5, 2001
(Pittsburgh Pirates vs. Colorado Rockies)

PNC Park was just completed before the 2001 Pirates season. A few years back, the sagging attendance at Three Rivers Stadium was deemed to be a major problem for the team, and there was talk of the Pirates leaving Pittsburgh. About three years ago, a voter referendum allowed voters to pick whether or not they wanted a new stadium. The proposition lost but City Council somehow pushed the measure through anyway. There was much anger and consternation over this, and it led to a lot of controversy over the situation.

The stadium was finally constructed for this season. Then, a few months back, the 30- year old Three Rivers Stadium was imploded. Despite the fact that PNC Park was already mostly completed in a different location, the not-yet-paid-for Three Rivers was destroyed to make way for a SECOND new stadium, for the ever-popular Pittsburgh Steelers.

I arrived just after the first pitch for my seat in Section 113. It was by far the best seat I've ever had at a baseball game, close to the field just right of home plate. PNC Park is small, with a left-field fence of only 325 feet. The stadium only seats 38,000 (as compared to Three Rivers' 60,000 or so), and the game was sold out. Almost every seat was filled except for the far reaches of the upper deck.

And I have to admit that the ballpark was built very, very well. Every seat had a clear view of the field, and the river lay just beyond the homerun fence. In fact, a banner on the right-field fence announced how many "river balls" had been hit to date (zero). The advertising was present, but relatively non-obtrusive--at least less than I expected. A few logos on the outfield fence and the usual banners around the scoreboard seemed minor compared to what life in the corporate age had prepared me for.

Watching a baseball game is actually very boring. I was lucky to see a very active game (the Pirates won, 11-3) but I forgot how slow the game can be. I'm sure that the stadium will be half-empty by the end of the season, once the thrill of the new surroundings wear off and Pittsburghers are reminded of baseball's sheer monotony. The Pirates are not really that good, which made their victory even more surprising. The game was lots of fun and I found myself standing up to applaud with each base hit or run.

The more surreal aspects of the stadium began to set in during the interinning entertainment. During the third inning, a random person was picked from the crowd to answer some obscure baseball trivia. She lost, and as a consolation prize was offered the choice between a hat and a large mystery box. She chose the box, which contained a life- size cardboard cutout of "German pop sensation and Baywatch star David Hasslehoff." All of this was announced by the confident voice of the scoreboard as I watched, bewildered.

The people around me were entirely white, and mostly from the suburbs. Beer (Coors Light or Iron City) was sold in large plastic bottles, looking not unlike a "Big Mouth" Mountain Dew bottle. I limited my dining choices to a $2.25 soft pretzel (which was stale) and a $3.50 soda. I was glad to see that pizza was provided by a local mediocre chain (Pizza Outlet) instead of a national mediocre chain like Pizza Hut. The seats had cup holders on the back, but they were territorially ambiguous so I had to fight with a random suburbanite for mine.

It was a great feeling to see lots of 12-year old kids in caps and Pirates t-shirts, looking much like I did when I was their age. I was also delighted to see the pseudodemocracy of the All-Star ballot. When I was a kid, my friend Mike and I conceived ridiculous plans to stuff the ballot box to get our favorite players in the All-Star Game. The plan reached it's peak when we grabbed 700 or so ballots, placed them in a vice, and used my father's drill to vote on all 700 ballots at once. It was sloppy and we had to throw out the last couple hundred because we missed our mark, and the rest of the day was spent tearing off the non-ballot half of each form. Now I found myself daydreaming about a vote-counting scandal where two players would both argue over counting methods and hanging chads (which are quite easy to make with All-Star ballots), ultimately taking their struggle to the Supreme Baseball Court, who would rule in a ridiculously partisan manner that would send waves of unrest throughout Major League Baseball.

Anyway, the most surreal part of the game was when four giant pierogies raced across the field. This happens every game, and a tally is kept of which pierogie wins (I was lucky to witness the jalapeno pierogie's first victory). Another inning offered the fans a chance to pick a song via cheering--the choices were Led Zeppelin's "Rock and Roll," the Beatles "Twist and Shout," or Toni Basil's "Mickey" sung in Spanish. Again confused by this weird sense of humour, I cheered frantically for "Mickey" but lost to the Fab Four.

Also exciting was the hot-dog gun; stadium employees danced on top of the dugout, shooting hot dogs at fans from a giant cannon. Despite my vegetarian diet, I found myself cheering, arms outstretched, in the hopes that a hot dog would come my way. By the end of the game I felt numb from the constant entertainment assault. This is what the majority of Pittsburghers (and Greater Vicinity) find entertaining; the game became totally secondary to the endless scoreboard diversions.

In the end, I actually liked it. It's not something I would regularly do, but it was nice to go to a clean, outdoor event instead of a smoky rock show or a dark movie theater. PNC Park works well--its architecture is a definite strike against the ugly brutalism that Three Rivers Stadium was, designed for the enjoyment of a baseball game.

I have to deduct two points for being built against taxpayer's wishes, and another point for the name. When I become President or Dictator, my first executive order will be to ban the naming of any public building or park after a corporation. I ask why they couldn't have named it Roberto Clemente Park, after the great humanitarian outfielder who tragically died in a plane crash while providing relief to impoverished people. Instead we get to glorify a soulless bank (which I was proud to leave some months ago).

Additionally, much of the contract work for the stadium's construction was promised to minority-owned businesses, which was apparently not honored by the City. But after resigning myself to ignore these major flaws, I find that PNC Park really makes a baseball game pleasant. The organ player is more subdued than in Three Rivers Stadium, and there's just a lot LESS stadium--more open space and less ugly concrete. Walking along the river after leaving, the stadium seems very civic--open and inviting to its citizens, rather than a hulking heap of concrete.

We still didn't need a new goddam football stadium, though.

john fail 2001 may 11