metro
05-18-2005, 09:27 PM
As All Sports fades, the memories remain
By Berry Tramel
The Oklahoman
Drive by All Sports Stadium — and everyone does, sitting at what amounts to Oklahoma City’s town square, the junction of Interstates 40 and 44 — and a single thought dominates.
Eyesore.
The old park, a relic since Bricktown swiped the Oklahoma City 89ers in 1998, is not long for this world. The wrecking ball awaits, within a few days, and what once was a green cathedral will give way to state-fair parking or horse barns.
No one misses it. As a destination, All Sports was not in the league of Owen Field or Gallagher-Iba Arena or the Myriad. Some fans liked All Sports and some didn’t, but even those who were partial fell quickly out of love when baseball moved to SBC Bricktown Ballpark.
Yet let not the park expire without lament, because places matter.
We can say they don’t, but we know they do.
The house we grew up in. The church in which we were married. The school where we took spelling tests and made lifelong friends and a certain girl caught our eye.
Sporting coliseums, too. Ballparks and arenas most definitely matter.
Even when they’re gone. And All Sports Stadium soon will be gone.
And dang it, All Sports wasn’t such a bad place. Close parking, green grass, crack-of-the-bat baseball. And memories. Lots of memories.
Every greater-OKC sports fan over 15 can call on All Sports memories.
My dad took us to see John Mayberry and Cesar Cedeno at All Sports. My brother won a prize package that included dinner for two at El Charrito, prime booty in 1970.
A crusty old baseball man named Warren Spahn, the Tulsa manager, handed us a bat broken by perennial Cardinals prospect Joe Hague.
We saw the first Big Eight championship game in 1976, when a Missouri left-hander stymied the Sooners. Funny the things you remember; a wild throw during infield conked a lady in the box seats.
All Sports wasn't the amusement park stadiums have to be now. But it seemed to satisfy us.
And soon it will be gone.
All Sports is a ghost town now. A sign still hangs on the concourse. "Welcome to State Fair Stadium." Huh. I never heard that name.
The paint is peeled and the gates are gone. Concession stands are falling apart. Windows are broken throughout the box offices and pressbox.
A few signs still sprout. "ICE-COLD BEVERAGES" and "Pizza!Pizza!"
The huge scoreboard is in tatters. The outfield fence is falling in. The light poles have gone horizontal, in centerfield and along the right-field line. The warning track is even gone; where does a warning track go?
State Fair trash cans are stacked on the concourse. In the right-field bleachers, where the seats have fled, weeds grow head high.
The dugouts are filled with paint cans, and the steep steps down don't look safe. I didn't risk it.
But the left-field hill remains pastoral, as if it could still hold thousands of customers like it did on many a summer night.
And on the field, the grass grows in a diamond shape that looks suspiciously like a basepath. Perhaps ghosts still take their swings at All Sports.
As I left the concourse and headed for my truck, I noticed the old seven-foot security turnstile remained. Built to last.
I exited through the turnstile one last time and couldn't help but think of Preacher Roe, the old Brooklyn Dodgers left-hander who was featured in Roger Kahn's "The Boys of Summer."
Roe took Kahn out to the Arkansas pasture where Roe had played as a boy. The diamond was gone. Roe thought back to the Brooklyn cathedral that had been razed for apartments.
"Funny, isn't it?" Roe said. "Same thing in these woods as where Ebbets Field was in Brooklyn. There'll never be a ballgame here again."
Berry Tramel: 475-3314, btramel@oklahoman.com; Berry Tramel's radio show, the Writer's Block, can be heard Monday-Friday from 4-7 p.m. on KREF-AM 1400, KADA-AM 1230 and KSEO-AM 750.
By Berry Tramel
The Oklahoman
Drive by All Sports Stadium — and everyone does, sitting at what amounts to Oklahoma City’s town square, the junction of Interstates 40 and 44 — and a single thought dominates.
Eyesore.
The old park, a relic since Bricktown swiped the Oklahoma City 89ers in 1998, is not long for this world. The wrecking ball awaits, within a few days, and what once was a green cathedral will give way to state-fair parking or horse barns.
No one misses it. As a destination, All Sports was not in the league of Owen Field or Gallagher-Iba Arena or the Myriad. Some fans liked All Sports and some didn’t, but even those who were partial fell quickly out of love when baseball moved to SBC Bricktown Ballpark.
Yet let not the park expire without lament, because places matter.
We can say they don’t, but we know they do.
The house we grew up in. The church in which we were married. The school where we took spelling tests and made lifelong friends and a certain girl caught our eye.
Sporting coliseums, too. Ballparks and arenas most definitely matter.
Even when they’re gone. And All Sports Stadium soon will be gone.
And dang it, All Sports wasn’t such a bad place. Close parking, green grass, crack-of-the-bat baseball. And memories. Lots of memories.
Every greater-OKC sports fan over 15 can call on All Sports memories.
My dad took us to see John Mayberry and Cesar Cedeno at All Sports. My brother won a prize package that included dinner for two at El Charrito, prime booty in 1970.
A crusty old baseball man named Warren Spahn, the Tulsa manager, handed us a bat broken by perennial Cardinals prospect Joe Hague.
We saw the first Big Eight championship game in 1976, when a Missouri left-hander stymied the Sooners. Funny the things you remember; a wild throw during infield conked a lady in the box seats.
All Sports wasn't the amusement park stadiums have to be now. But it seemed to satisfy us.
And soon it will be gone.
All Sports is a ghost town now. A sign still hangs on the concourse. "Welcome to State Fair Stadium." Huh. I never heard that name.
The paint is peeled and the gates are gone. Concession stands are falling apart. Windows are broken throughout the box offices and pressbox.
A few signs still sprout. "ICE-COLD BEVERAGES" and "Pizza!Pizza!"
The huge scoreboard is in tatters. The outfield fence is falling in. The light poles have gone horizontal, in centerfield and along the right-field line. The warning track is even gone; where does a warning track go?
State Fair trash cans are stacked on the concourse. In the right-field bleachers, where the seats have fled, weeds grow head high.
The dugouts are filled with paint cans, and the steep steps down don't look safe. I didn't risk it.
But the left-field hill remains pastoral, as if it could still hold thousands of customers like it did on many a summer night.
And on the field, the grass grows in a diamond shape that looks suspiciously like a basepath. Perhaps ghosts still take their swings at All Sports.
As I left the concourse and headed for my truck, I noticed the old seven-foot security turnstile remained. Built to last.
I exited through the turnstile one last time and couldn't help but think of Preacher Roe, the old Brooklyn Dodgers left-hander who was featured in Roger Kahn's "The Boys of Summer."
Roe took Kahn out to the Arkansas pasture where Roe had played as a boy. The diamond was gone. Roe thought back to the Brooklyn cathedral that had been razed for apartments.
"Funny, isn't it?" Roe said. "Same thing in these woods as where Ebbets Field was in Brooklyn. There'll never be a ballgame here again."
Berry Tramel: 475-3314, btramel@oklahoman.com; Berry Tramel's radio show, the Writer's Block, can be heard Monday-Friday from 4-7 p.m. on KREF-AM 1400, KADA-AM 1230 and KSEO-AM 750.