Memories and Place are Intertwined at Tiger Stadium

As a few of you have noticed, I haven't posted in a few weeks. I've been spending a lot of time on work-related stuff and just got back from a work-related trip. My on the plane reading was this book by Tom Stanton about the final season of Tiger Stadium. I never watched a game at Tiger Stadium and didn't get to see it until it had fallen into disrepair, however, I've always felt a connection to the stadium through my dad. He was a big fan of the 1968 Tigers and attended a few games at the corner of Michigan and Trumbull that summer.

This past summer I moved to northwestern Ohio, less than an hour south of Detroit (actually, I live the Jim Leyland's hometown)... anyway, in June, I took my dad to a Tigers game which celebrated the 1968 team. I considered it a special moment. Prior to that game I had planned to take my dad by Tiger Stadium, however, he said that he didn't want to see it. I didn't question it but I suspect he wanted to remember it how it was in 1968.

Stanton's book is about the connections between memories and place and I highly recommend it if you're interested in that geographic sort of thing. Here's a nice passage from the book describing Tiger Stadium that I feel is fitting to this blog:

"Our ballpark feels like Detroit. It carries no airs. It's blue-collar and industrial. When you enter the gates, you come in beneath corrugated doors that have been rolled up on tracks, like at a warehouse delivery dock. You're greeted by cement and steel, strong, riveted girders that thrust upwards and serve a purpose, hold the deck about in place. There are no architectural flourishes: no cornices, no fancy tile work, no aesthetic touches. This stadium show its secrets - pipes, wires, girders, and all. It's plain and simple, no scent of pretentiousness. It doesn't yearn to be something it is not."