Inauguration Cogitations

Dave Paisley

It isn't very often that you get the chance to be at a new ballpark's inaugural game. Thursday was my first time, and unless I get real fortunate, it could well be my last. So the opening of Safeco Field in Seattle was a very special time, and it would have been tremendous if I could report that I had the time of my life, and that it couldn't have possibly been better. Predictably enough, though, the day fell far short of even my modest expectations.

The game experience got off to a good start when I lucked into a free parking spot a mere one block from the stadium. It's close to where I normally park (always for free) but I didn't expect to be so lucky on opening day. The gates opened shortly afterwards, at 4 pm, and it seemed like everything was going smoothly until we had waited for about twenty minutes on the sidewalk outside and the line had barely moved. For some reason, the "security guards" decided that anyone with a bag larger than a stick of gum must obviously be smuggling illicit bottles of water into the stadium, and decided to hold everyone up while they rooted out these heinous offenders.

I've always wondered what the official reason was for this particular rule -- it's obviously there to force the captive fan to buy stadium beverages, but the powers that be would never state it so plainly. No, they would say that they're protecting the unwary fan from the dangers of contaminated potables sold by evil agencies not licensed by the stadium. Well, a pox on them, I say. I can hardly wait to devise the ultimate smuggling device (available soon from a store near you, for the low, low price of $49.99).

After an interminable wait to get in, it became obvious that the concourses at Safeco aren't much of an improvement on the deadly old Kingdome. The only real improvement is that you can see the field as you take baby steps towards wherever you're going, instead of being trapped in gray concrete hell. Perhaps the situation on opening day was exacerbated by everyone gawking at the surroundings instead of actually moving to where they wanted to go, but it's still going to be slow going until the novelty wears off.

It should come as no surprise to observers of corporate culture to note that the concessionaires who won the contract at Safeco were quickly bought out by the evil Ogden empire, holders of the Kingdome concession license, and losing bidders at Safeco. What that meant was that we got the same lousy, inept, pathetic, probably unhygienic service at Safeco that we had become accustomed to at the Dome of Doom.

It was almost as if the opening of the stadium had taken Ogden by surprise, as if the opening date hadn't been carved in stone for over two years. Ineptitude is almost a given with Ogden, but opening day was a marvel of incompetence. Cash registers that died, stranding long lines of customers, thirty-minute waits in line for food when the menu consists of exactly four cooked items, and servers incapable of pouring beer. Yes, all this and more was my fate at Safeco Field on opening day.

Missing in action was any good beer at all. Somehow, despite being the home of several great microbreweries, the only beer readily available on opening night was Bud, Bud Light, Miller or Coors Light. Regulars at Strikethree.com know these have all the taste appeal of horse urine, and in fact it did save me a lot of money over the course of the evening.

I haven't even mentioned the forty-minute wait in line to buy a program. It was almost as if they had monks handwriting each one personally for each customer.

On the plus side, in a stroke of genius the Mariners engaged the Seattle Symphony to underscore most of the opening ceremonies. The roof had been open as the gates opened, but was quietly closed before the festivities. With an hour to go to game time, the Symphony launched into "Also Sprach Zarathustra" as the roof began to slide open. The roof opens very slowly, and the effect was dramatic as the crack of daylight down the third base side began to grow. Unable to spin that piece out for the entire roof opening, the Symphony transitioned to their signature piece, Stravinsky's "Firebird Suite."

To round out the roof opening segment, they launched into the tail end of the "1812 Overture", an obvious excuse for pyrotechnics, without which no ballpark opening ceremony can be complete. But it was way cool, as fireworks erupted on the field, and ultimately, as the piece ended, a veritable barrage was lit of from the open center field perimeter of the stadium. Oh, and the roof of the adjacent Kingdome, and even, rumor has it, from the top of the Space Needle a couple of miles to the north. When it was all over, the inside of the park looked like a scene from Saving Private Ryan. That is, if you could have seen anything.

Unfortunately, the program continued with four twenty-foot tall inflatable "air dancers" that "danced" to some very forgettable hip-hop beats. They were apparently accompanied by some stirring video on the big screen, but I wouldn't know because from my seats in right field I couldn't see the big screen. I doubt that I missed much, and it seemed a real shame to lose all the momentum gained by the Symphony. Much like a bases loaded, inning-ending double play.

After that, everything followed a predictable pattern. Dave Niehaus, the incredibly popular voice of the Mariners, threw out the first pitch (high and wild, not unlike a lot of actual Mariner pitchers these days) and the Mariners went on to lose the game in typical Mariner fashion, falling to the AL West cellar. You know the story -- Mariners get behind, Mariners come back to take late lead, Mariner bullpen blows game.

I'm just not sure if I'm more disappointed by the loss or that it looks the stadium will be run as poorly as the Kingdome. Despite all the hassle, the night was made for me by seeing the beautiful sunset develop as the game wore into the late innings. From gold to deep red, to mauve and ultimately to pitch black, the view over the left field stands was unparalleled. It almost made up for all the other stuff.

Now, if only the M's can get themselves a bullpen...

about the author

Dave Paisley once stood in a Kingdome line for 90 minutes, only to find that he had queued for Gary Coleman's autograph. He'll trade you for a Soleil Moon Frye.