I started writing blog posts back in 2009, and for the past six seasons, I have written on worlds near-and-far, adventures that took me to places that I had only seen on a map, and experiences that sometimes can't be defined by words. However, amidst all of that, those hundreds of posts, I have never had to write an obituary for anything. I have always felt that baseball and the adventure that it encompassed was an entity that was somehow immortal. It is through death, perhaps, that we see new perspectives into something we always thought as old and classic.
In 2009, I wrote on the final game at Civic Stadium in Eugene, OR. I wrote my feelings of how the park brought me happiness and exposed me to the most wonderful game in the entire world. I was firmly convinced, those years ago, that the old, wooden ballpark on the corner of 20th and Willamette Streets in Eugene was just as much a part of my life and personality as any family member. I voiced sadness in how the community resorted to the destruction of the landmark by ripping up sod, collecting clods of dirt, and pulling out seats and advertisements on the outfield. It was almost as if heritage was being pulled away from a sacred place.
Earlier this year, I wrote of the outlook for the ballpark as, after sitting vacant for six years, finally had a new lease on life. I expressed hope and optimism at the future. The "Old Girl" was going to be repurposed into a youth athletic venue partnering multiple non-profits and government agencies. After the fits and starts, momentum had been gained and the renovations to the grandstand were slated to begin next month.
Last Monday evening, while in-between umpiring a doubleheader for my local Little League district, my phone began buzzing off the hook from friends and family alerting me that Civic Stadium was currently ablaze in an unrecoverable fire. I had messages pouring in from Facebook and on Twitter from people posting links from national news outlets about how the beloved ballpark was a total loss. My Mother showed me a video of the grandstand burning, and it resembled a bomb that had been detonated. Online, I saw news stories with comments from the Fire Chief about how the wooden structure had contributed to the downfall, with the structure burning to the ground in a matter of minutes. Thankfully, nobody was hurt in the blaze, and the stadium does have a $3 million insurance policy on it.
As the days wore on, it was found that four children, ages 10-12, had allegedly set fire to the structure. They were attempting to light some leaves on fire, and the blaze quickly spread. They ran away from the scene over the pedestrian bridge that had brought hundreds of thousands of fans to games. They were apprehended by police and charged with arson. The justice system will play out, as it were, and there are many in the Eugene area who are wanting the punishment to be swift and severe. I won't comment on that, but I can certainly understand how some people want these boys to feel the full consequences of their actions, however harsh they may be.
I went home for the 4th of July weekend and subsequently made a visit to the stadium. It was a sobering walk up to the burned out structure. It was like looking at a skeleton. Water from sprinklers still poured onto the charred remains to flush out hotspots. The box seat sections had been heated so much by the inferno that they had bent downward into sort of a smile, that was cruelly ironic for the surrounding scene. I took some pictures and stared at the ruins. I didn't say a whole lot, and I couldn't help but have those infinite memories of the park flash through my head. I asked myself, "how can a place that gave so many people happiness die like this?"
I don't believe that there is anybody who went to a game there that hasn't had some nostalgic memory pass through their mind from that place in the past week. I've read so many posts from others about how they "saw their first baseball game there", or how "they got their first job there", or how they "had their first hot dog or beer" from the concession stands. While seeing all of this, I had to smile. It seemed as though the community of people who had been there believed that the stadium was a living, breathing place that was so much more than a riveted structure of steel and wood. People spoke as if they had lost a friend. To see that perception actually made me smile because I knew that what I had experienced at that ballpark was, by no means, unique. Others had shared the same glee that I had felt at catching my first foul ball, hearing the crack of the wooden bats, or gazing on the green-covered hills of South Eugene. Maybe, in this case, community was defined not as a geographic place or as a fan of a game, but rather through the sharing of memories. For its final act, Civic Stadium really did become the "hub" of a community.
In reflection since hearing the news of her downfall, I've looked at the 3-foot x 2-foot white "0" on my wall that was used on the old scoreboard at Civic. I have said that while I may have a material piece of her history, my memories are the most precious. Those memories can't be destroyed by a fire. Furthermore, while the Stadium may be gone, the memories of the community will last forever. I'm a part of that community now. While I may have been to almost sixty different professional ballparks across the country and seen more than three hundred professional games, I'm the same as everybody else that conveyed their grief over the loss of Civic Stadium.
I guess the real question is what to do now? The old manual scoreboard survived the blaze, and I think it would be a very classy move on the part of the Eugene Emeralds and the University of Oregon to move the scoreboard and put it to use at PK Park. I think that in light of the community outpouring, bringing that classic marker and using it a new facility would bring together the past and present in a fashionable way. As for the stadium, it is a total loss and the site needs to be cleaned up. I think that putting youth athletic fields in is still the best idea, but maybe a plaque or interpretive display about the ballpark would be a good idea.
While the last paragraph is important for moving forward, the most important thing of all is that those memories never fade. Whether or not you are a baseball fan or not, people had so many happy experiences and memories at Civic Stadium. Keep those memories alive and well by telling the stories to others and smiling when you do it. If Civic is a living and breathing entity, it would be happy to know that it lived a life where people can easily and often recount happiness.
Always take on a 3-0 pitch ;)
Always take on a 3-0 pitch ;)
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