In response: Farewell Tiger Stadium?

Detroit Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick says he will make a decision in May on whether or not Tiger Stadium should be demolished. See article.

Tiger Stadium is a hallowed Detroit landmark, and the day it ceases to exist won't be a happy one. But if Kilpatrick does decide to raze the historic ballpark, I'm not going to shed any tears. And if uproar ensues upon a go-ahead from Kilpatrick to bid the stadium good bye, I'll be thoroughly surprised.

Let's consider what it is: a building with tremendous history, yes -- but also a building that is idle, much like numerous other unused edifices around the Motor City.

What separates Tiger Stadium from those eyesores, though, is its remarkable yesteryear.

For countless Detroiters, the landmark at the corner of Michigan and Trumbull represents much more than the site where the Tigers took to the diamond for upwards of 90 years.

Originally called Navin Field when it opened in 1912, it became Briggs Stadium in 1938. Then in 1960, when John Fetzer became the team's owner, he gave it its lasting title: Tiger Stadium.

The Corner has played home to two World Series teams (1968 and 1984) and more than 100 million fans have passed through its turnstiles. It's a cathedral of sorts, full of timeless memories and echoes of long, unforgettable summers past.

But the sources of those echoes are long removed from the stadium's walls. Various events have been held there since its closing in 1999 when the Tigers' new home became Comerica Park. Movies have been filmed and other minor sporting events held, but nothing that has added to the well-being of the city. In fact, Detroit has spent nearly $4 million maintaining the stadium for the seven years since its last game, which, to me, seems absurd.

These days, it sits peacefully, neither a distraction or a subtraction. While many of Detroit's buildings are eyesores and reasons for critics -- Detroiters and non-Detroiters alike -- to spit condemnations, Tiger Stadium lives. And it’s OK. Just OK.

Everyone should realize, though, that if it's not torn down soon, it, too, will be labeled eyesore. I don’t want to see it defaced with graffiti, broken into, or begin to fall apart. While its memories will never fade, the longer this stadium stands, the more its holiness will evaporate.

Tiger Stadium's true farewell came on Sept. 27, 1999. I was fortunate enough to be there. Alongside my dad, we watched the Tigers dispatch the Kansas City Royals, 8-2. The win was punctuated by the game's final hit -- a grand slam by Tigers catcher Robert Fick which caromed off the black roof in right field. It stirred memories of Cecil Fielder and other “long gone” -- if I may borrow respectfully from Ernie Harwell -- former Tigers bombers.

After the game, a parade of Tigers legends graced the field. Names like Gibson, Kaline, Trammell, and Whitaker -- fully donned in bright Tigers white with the Olde English D -- trotted out for one last ovation. Next to me, my dad started to cry as the roar became deafening, and I couldn’t help but get a little emotional, too. Once the celebration subsided, the Tiger Stadium home plate was moved to the team's new home: Comerica Park.

I’ll always remember the events of that day because they were so fitting: a Tigers win in front of Tigers legends and true Tigers fans. It should have meant closure.

But Tiger Stadium lingered and lingers. When it comes time to demolish the sacred grounds, just remember that they have already been given a proper good bye, and let it go in peace.