It's not 'only' a baseball stadium The final baseball season is under way at the oldest address in professional sports. Places of the heart are worth the effort. Special places are disappearing faster than endangered species. Places that move the heart foster messy attachments. The global economy prefers its consumers to have portable affections for interchangeable environments.
Beloved places have meaning because of their particularity.
Their hold on their adherents can't be fully appreciated by people outside the tribe. To a developer, a sacred ancestral plot is prime real estate, a healing spring part of a septic field, a lovers' overlook a marketable picture-window view. An old baseball stadium is a pile of rusty girders and cheap seats. Say I'm listening to a Detroit Tigers game, and a Tiger pitcher lasts five innings with a no- hitter. I drop everything and drive madly to Tiger Stadium.