A visit to Comerica Park, Detroit, July 2001
It wasn't easy saying goodbye. I was a card-carrying member of the Tiger
Stadium Fan Club and a staunch opponent of spending tax dollars on a concrete
monstrosity in the middle of nowhere. But the time had come to move on:
nostalgia can't make up for obstructed-view seats, surly vendors, and smelly
restrooms.
Mike Ilitch, the Tigers' owner, did his best to make the transition less
painful. 
While he hammered out a ballpark deal with the politicians, he took
steps to win back fans driven away by the oafish policies of former owner Tom
Monaghan. Guests, as Ilitch calls them, once more felt welcome.
Ilitch located Comerica Park in Detroit's "Foxtown," an
entertainment district where he restored the Fox Theater and later added the
Second City comedy club and Hockeytown Café. But there's only so much one man
can do: Foxtown is surrounded by acres of urban blight; aside from Ilitch's
attractions, there's little to do in the neighborhood.
Freeway access to the park is relatively good, and there's ample parking
within a 15-minute walk. Lots operated by Ilitch's Olympia Entertainment offer
parking for 5,000 cars, and there are other, privately-operated, lots in the
vicinity. For the intrepid, there's free on-street parking north of the Fisher
Freeway.
Comerica Park reflects Ilitch's philosophy of putting out a welcome mat for
customers. It's a festive, inviting place. Stadium personnel, from ticket takers
to ushers, are low-key but efficient; overzealous security guards are a receding
memory.
The ballpark follows the tradition of Oriole Park at Camden Yards, with green
seats, steel girders, and a huge scoreboard topped by a clock and the team logo.
But it's smaller and not as fancy as most other new parks--a reflection, no
doubt, of the Tigers' tight finances.
Comerica Park's signature is the main entrance, framed by ceramic tigers; as
you walk around the outside of the park, you'll see more tigers with baseballs
in their mouths. And an instant ballpark tradition has taken hold: posing for
pictures underneath the huge, ferocious tiger guarding the front gates.
The lower concourse is an invitation to roam. There you'll find the Tiger
Walk of Fame, six bat-shaped kiosks with old photos, bats and uniforms, and
other memorabilia. Also worth a look: the larger than life-size statues of Tiger
greats, with Hall of Fame-style plaques listing their achievements, behind the
center-field wall. There's plenty of standing room, even some space behind home
plate.
Unless you're a kid, Tiger tickets are expensive. On the lower level, the
cheapest boxes are $25; the top-priced seats, at $75, are in the Tiger Den,
where you get to sit in an oversized padded chair after a complimentary buffet.
Even upper-deck seats behind the plate--the best value in many parks--will set
you back $20. The cheapest option: $8 bleachers in right field. If you're
thinking of buying tickets outside the stadium, you'll likely come up empty: a
city ordinance bars the resale of tickets at any price; and, believe it or not,
Detroit's finest actually enforce it.
The concession menu is a far cry from the meager selection at Tiger Stadium.
All the ballpark favorites are available, along with popular snacks like chicken
wings and pizza. The Brushfire Grill serves barbecued chicken and beef, ribs,
and pulled pork sandwiches. Nearby you'll find a beer hall with rows of picnic
tables and free peanuts. There's even a Coney Island restaurant (coneys, which
serve Greek food, are a Detroit institution), and two McDonald's, inside the park.
In contrast to the old ballpark, which had thousands of obstructed-view
seats, there are no bad seats at Comerica: at worst, a small part of the playing
field is cut off from view. Ironically, the worst visibility problem is in the
Tiger Den, where the overhang makes it tough to follow fly balls. Most seats
offer a panoramic view of Detroit's skyline; the buildings make the field look
more intimate, and--here's a nice touch--the playing field is below street
level.
Comerica's playing field echoes Tiger Stadium's quirky design: the flagpole
is in play; and center field is roomy enough to turn long fly balls into outs.
Still, I miss the old park's right-field stands which jutted out over the field,
turning popgun hitters into heroes; and its upper-deck bleachers, where fans
raised heckling to an art form.
Attracting children to the ballpark is a Tiger priority. There's a
50-foot-high Ferris wheel with cars in the shape of baseballs, and a carousel
with hand-painted tigers and chariots. If you're planning to bring the kids, be
on the lookout for family-pack tickets, which include reduced-price admission
and a free soda and hot dog.
Pleasant as it is, Comerica Park earns some demerits. Scoreboards are a
disappointment: the main board is cluttered with advertising, and replay
coverage is spotty; the auxiliary board doesn't have room for all the
out-of-town scores. The public-address system punishes the eardrums. Comerica's
much-touted "liquid fireworks" are a clumsy imitation of Kauffmann
Stadium's dancing fountains. And what's the deal with bottled water? Fans can't
bring it in unless the weather is, as the Tigers put it, "extremely
hot."
The saddest part of a trip to Comerica is the crowd--or, more precisely, the
lack of one. Attendance averages just over half of capacity, and thousands of
fans who have tickets don't bother showing up. More ominously, many fans spend a
large part of the game at the concession stands, and a dwindling few keep score.
Detroit is not an ill-advised expansion town like Tampa Bay, or a hopelessly
small market like Montreal; it's a charter member of the American League. But
there's no getting around the fact that the Tigers are a sick franchise, and a
new ballpark hasn't been the hoped-for cure. Which ought to be worrisome news for the
rest of baseball.
