A visit to Jacobs Field, Cleveland, May 2002
For a whole generation of Cleveland fans, baseball was all pain, no gain. Not
only were the Indians 
perennial losers, but fans had to watch them in the
punishing confines of Municipal Stadium.
Enter Richard Jacobs. As the Indians' CEO, he came up with a winning strategy
and executed it to near-perfection. Jacobs persuaded local officials to share
the cost of new park; and, when the deal was done, assembled a talented young
club and a solid minor-league system. The result: six postseason appearances and
two American League pennants, a run most rivals can only dream of.
The Indians were big winners at the gate, too, selling out 455 consecutive
games, a record that won't fall anytime soon. During that time, tickets
disappeared before Opening Day, which meant out-of-town fans had to take their
chances with scalpers. But after an out-of-the-money finish in 2000, baseball
fever has cooled a bit. Nowadays, you can walk up to the window on game day and
usually get seats.
Even though Jacobs Field is on the edge of downtown, getting in and out is a
snap; I ran into no tie-ups driving into the city, and just a bit of congestion
after the game. There's also plenty of parking in the vicinity; a spot four
blocks from the park cost me $5. My only problem was navigating Cleveland's
streets: most are one-way, and turns are prohibited almost everywhere.
Walking around the exterior, I was struck by how compact Jacobs Field was.
While the park has a capacity of 43,368, it looks cozier, both outside and
inside, because it was built in the shape of a box, not a saucer. Opened in
1994, it's one of the oldest "retro" parks, with irregular dimensions,
off-white paint and brown sandstone, and, of course, green seats.
Outside, there's not much to see, aside from the "Jacobs Field"
logo behind home plate; a statue of Bob Feller at "Indians Square";
and Gund Arena, the home of the Cavaliers, next door. There was little pregame
partying either: no tailgaters in the parking lots, and just a handful of bars
close to the park.
Jacobs Field's "game day staff" are among the nicest in the majors.
At the gates, security was efficient but not overbearing--remarkable for a
weekend better suited for Browns football, with fans wearing heavy coats and
carrying blankets. Ticket takers, ushers, and concession stand workers all went
out of their way to help.
Years of sellouts have had a predictable effect on ticket prices. Infield box
seats, which all but put you in the lineup, carry a $40 price tag. Boxes between
the infield and the foul pole cost $25, but the farther away you sit, the more
you'll have to contort yourself to see home plate. If you're sitting in the back
rows on the first-base side, there's an added problem: the overhang from the
club seats.
Upstairs, what are called "reserved seats" elsewhere are "box
seats" here. And they're priced accordingly--at least five dollars more
than at other parks. Twelve dollars gets you a seat near the foul pole, where
you'll have to sit at an uncomfortable angle; the $7 seats overlooking right
field are a better value. Aside from the Pepsi Home Run Porch beyond left field,
there's little standing room.
In other parks, the cheapest seats are in the bleachers. But not at Jacobs
Field, where the going price is $17. But Indians fans swear by these seats; at
least half a dozen called them "the best seats in the house." They're
so popular, you have to show a ticket to enter the bleacher section.
Sitting on top of left-center field, I had a good view of the game, surrounded
by knowledgeable and hard-core--but courteous--fans. In the last row of the
bleachers, you'll find one of baseball's legendary fans: John Adams, who for
years has been banging a big drum to rally the Tribe.
America's largest freestanding scoreboard is behind left-center field, framed
by Cleveland's skyline. One of its three working boards is an animation matrix
used for announcements, stats, and trivia. Another is a Sony JumboTron that
shows replays and highlights. Between them is the game-in-progress board,
featuring the batting orders, line score, and other essentials. The boards do
only a workmanlike job; they show too many commercials and not enough replays,
and are slow to update out-of-town scores.
Although Jacobs Field is on the small side, a lot of amenities have been
crammed inside. Family-oriented Tribe fans love to picnic, and there are plenty
of places to choose from. The Ford Picnic Pavilion is beyond center field,
underneath the biggest American flag I've seen at a ballpark; there are also two
smaller areas downstairs, as well as rows of tables along the upper concourse.
The park's nooks and crannies are home to gift shops; a children's play area;
and, if you need to settle an argument, a booth run by the Society for American
Baseball Research.
Concession prices are about average for the majors. All the ballpark staples
are here, but if you want something different, explore the first-base side of
the lower concourse, where items include sushi platters and octopus salad;
barbecued chicken and catfish with down-home trimmings like sweet potato pie and
peach cobbler; and cappuccino and biscotti. My favorite was a Hungarian pepper
stuffed with sausage, served on a Fenway Frank bun, and topped with blue cheese.
The Indians do a great job of tending to the details. There are plenty of
concession stands, most of them near a television monitor and within earshot of
the play-by-play. Restrooms are clean and plentiful, and they're heated on
chilly days. Bright colors, banners with pictures of current players, and
mementoes of Tribe history all brighten the ballpark mood.
Although Jacobs Field is only eight years old, it's becoming a victim of
baseball's arms race: each new park has to be better--and more expensive--than
the ones before it. Still, Richard Jacobs was smart to build a new park when he
did. His investment has already paid off handsomely, and he's given a new
generation of fans something to look forward to.
